Sunflowers

I love sunflowers.

They have beautiful

Daisylike faces.

But if I can’t get those

Yellow petals or if the

Petals resist any attempt

At plucking, I move on.

I settle for pink ice plants.

They’re all flowers.

They all have nectar.

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In the Talons of Neocolonialism

We are bleeding 

Our mothers are bleeding

And so are our fathers

And with every struggle the talons 

Enter deeper into our flesh

There is really nothing we can do

The youth are wayward and we

Can’t blame them

The leaders are bickering over 

A bowl of banku and soup

The people cry famine

Nkrumah, Lumumba, Sankara and 

Others warned us but we heeded not

They said he became a dictator

But at least we know he loved Africa.

Now Africa is just a shipwreck 

– An extension of Europe

We cannot rise unless we begin

To learn and act together

We cannot rise unless we unite

Our people are being exploited

They will continue to suffer

They will continue to die

Unless we unite

We are bleeding

Africa is bleeding in the talons

of the bald eagle.

An Apotheosis

O Mother Nature,

We extol your name.

Us, “the earthborn”

Give you thanks and praise.

You have fed, healed and

Protected us (those who obey you) 

From evil every day and all day.

You’re indeed the greatest O Mother!

Men have invented time for themselves.

Yet you do things in accordance 

With your own seasons.

You send down rain and make the 

Trees grow and bear fruits for

All living things to consume

(Even though they mistreat you)

You’re indeed the greatest.

Thank you Mother Nature.

A Dream

Last night I dreamt about the sea. 

Its waves so strong, it roared like a mob.

The sea overstepped its shores

And landed on a rocky Island.

I saw a lot of people including kids.

They were having fun in the water.

It looked like a vacation or something.

But some people also seemed like workers.

The water entered a glass building nearby

But nobody seemed alarmed, least of all me.

The strong waves was rather fun to watch.

I was fully dressed but when I looked down

I saw that my feet were buried in blue foamy water.

It felt very cold, then everything receded and

Lo, I’m awake.

Africa, my Africa

We want to go and
See what’s happening
In the underworld.
Perhaps the gods and
Ancestors know why.
We ran and ran and
When our feet refused to
Go, we saw that we were
Back in whitey’s chains –
In the oppressor’s talons.
Africa cries for a liberator.
How can her children go
Hungry when she has
Fertile land? How can she
Be poor when she has gold?
Nkrumah said revolutionary
Path will bring freedom but
Who will fight for us?
No one wanted to fight.
Whitey’s dollar is working.
Lumumba is gone.
Sankara is gone.
Madiba is gone.
Nyerere is gone.
Kenyatta is also gone.
And so is great Nkrumah.
Heroes die soon and
The clowns live long.
But Africa, my Africa is not
What is shown the world.
My Africa will rise…again.

Go Where They Need You (2)

If you build houses

Go where there is homelessness.

If you are a healer

Go where there is illness.

If you can teach

Go where there is ignorance.

If you can preach

Go where there is immorality.

If you can lead

Go where there is indiscipline.

If you can sing

Go where there is despair.

If you are rich

Go where people are weak.

If you build bridges

Go where the rivers are.

If you write

Go where there is no truth.

 

(a repost from 2013)

A Letter To The Nihilists

I pray brethren.

Do not be conformed to this fallen world.

But be ye transformed by the renewal of your minds.

Wherefore many years ago there was a great spark.

Which brought forth life from the non-living.

This spark, the burning flame, we call life –

It belongs to an owner.

Tortoises and snails from stones, and serpents from reeds.

And from leaves, came flying creatures.

 

Unless one sees oneself as an integral part of the whole

One can never find meaning.

Despair in something is better than belief in nothing.

For with the former, there is always a destination and

Something from which the conscious self can seek repose.

Be ye, therefore, submissive brethren, to your inner selves –

To your owner – one who is and knows all but cannot be known.

What is in oneself, indeed, is greater than what is in this world.

 

(Originally written in 2014.)