Read at radio universe, university of Ghana, 25th February, 2007.
So i came with my ten fingers
As destiny of tattered penury would have me
Between my mother's legs i saw light
I saw my Africa in deserted silence
I cried
Being born among stupid blacks
Hunger first
Then dry thirst
Poverty which hit me like death in the face
I cried
Being born among stupid blacks
But now i see a new light
My heart-splittered Africa
Was not stupid
My people misled me, not the white man
To think my woes was of the white man
The black man beamed with freedom
Yet he yelled at that white man
That white man.
I cried
Being born among stupid blacks
No more
I leave my tears
With yesteryears
Free from the thoughts of evil fears
Oppression, depression, suppression
But my regression
Blame the black man for the black man
Not the white man for my black land
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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