Africa Me

Here's a penny.

Here, take what's mine and all I own.

Here, take this diamond,

Here, you take this gold.

Strip my people of everything.

Fuck them right!

They don't deserve to be happy,

sheltered or given opportunity to elevate.

Africa is the land I come from.

It is the land of my people.

Every time you take from her, you steal from me.

Anytime you voluntarily spread disease, you infect me. 

When you pretend she does not exist, you dismiss, me.

The All-seeing Blind

Disturb me not.
I am busy.
Busy with life and the endlesss pursuit of love.
Too busy to see you.
Do not call me by my name. I no longer respond to it.
Nor do I you.
Understand me friend,
Busy is what I am.
Busy maintaining my composure.
Busy yourself while I cover  my pain.


Art of life

...sadness you own me.
sweet melancholy needs be.
some things seem to have no meaning until they begin to get you down.
being alive is poetic.

The Color of Colour

A blanket that covers the day,
Shadow going my way, dark and warm, my protection against all.
A captured, enduring whips and chains,
withstanding the pain, the burn; making a place for itself in a colorless world?
This colour never goes away, it never fades.
Solid, dominant, and forever.
Not persuaded, it never blends in, it cannot go away.
Color is a deep, and much set in stain.
Evolution has rendered it great.
Time will/may not ease its pain.
But never, never again will it
stock the basements of your ships.
Forward, forward and back to greatness.