The waves pull at the lugs of the wind-smiling boat Where jokes are thrown, and hope of home stays afloat. But beneath the wood, in dark damp despair The souls piled in bodies in chains gasp for air. Captured in fields of butterfly-filled chanting grass Where children's smiles once lit love in these paths, Now wishing death, escape, drowning, as the waves tossed Their past away, carrying them to the land of the lost. Finally off the cramped hell of human faeces and decay, On a dais where bids are called, and theyget whisked away To serve the farm. This was freedom from seaborne pain Just to be enslaved, and cut and hurt once again. Their brothers off to Arabia, or further to the same fate Had warned of this predicament, and now they're in their state Hoping for a day when a heart is changed and the impossible Becomes blood on this continent to unhinge their shackles. *********** What's freedom? The shackles have fallen off the scars That held back my breath. Opportunity smiles the seduction of the 14th of February And I say yes, reach out, looking to a future, looking Beyond to joy, beyond death. The eagle soars to survey and seek its prey, as I ride Peacefully building a future where my kids will be eagles To pray the prayers that freed my heart, to dream the dream That Washington, Lincoln and Martin Luther King dream, and Put the whip back into its sheath. *********** But my brothers are still stuck. I watch as I soar how the nest of worms appeals to them. The chain is gone. They seek a new master to shelter them from the Predators of the world; They call to this master to take their cross, and bear It, and give them some cotton to feed their fears. Melanin comes to the table. He builds a bull of gold, and they bow. "Oh Melanin, you brought us out of the slavery in Egypt Out of the Slavery in Libya, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait Out of the bowels of the slave ships on the Atlantic, You brought us out of slavery, Now enslave us to your will. Make us wholly thine. Where you command we will go" So he did. And beautifully decorated by their bull, Now, their lives matter. (c) nyonglema
There it lay lazily in a sea of others like itself;
Well, in most things like itself,
For they all had that haggard carelessly drawn spherical shape,
Showered with burning brown, red and yellow,
And the dark hats, a vestige of parenthood,
Made them look like brothers.
But it just didn’t look the same!
The paleness plaguing its pelt,
The gayness around seemed to stay off it,
Though the concentration of joy and beauty around
Should have diffused directly through
The fibrous coat, to hit the core;
It just didn’t fit!
Could it be a fall-out of the prejudicial lighting,
Which threw shades through each kernel’s space
From the dim candle lighting up the room’s face,
Giving the weird spheres flickering weirder airs?
No. It was just that this horrid sight
Was wrought by warms eating right through its coat
Causing decay: poor thing.