So dickheaded be my people
That we praise our suffering
On the heavens
What equals?
And we Africans
Pretend our problems
When we breathe flames
And indelibly trudge with shame
Even with our lot and gem
We eat of the crumbs of Europeans
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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