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FREEDOM WILL BE MINE

Darkness in light that is all I see. A shadow Hidden in between, Silence, a voice waiting to free. The air pregnant with intensity A breath of fresh air, Freedom free in the air. The eyes in my mind blinded Darkness, the only thing visible. Perhaps it’s the suppression Or even the oppression. Days of cold anxiety engulf Seated close to the fire But shivering like its already winter Death looms the air Blood choking the ground Gunshots startling ancestors Smoke clouding the skies Cries of innocence infinite Songs barely incoherent To Freedom we are bound Behind bars of scars,bleeding wounds Oozing years of desperation, Torture, pain and submission You alone can deliver From a world of torment A world paralyzed by hunger, anger and selfish quest The dead awake to bury the dying Those alive living only for the battle front. they fall in numbers, Overwhelming the battle field. Freedom, to you we’re bound If not, then death be it No more shall we be slaves. ...
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Africa is a beauty if only everyone would see the same. She has been made barren by negative ; publicity; corruption , poverty, crime e.t.c It is about time that we learnt, to mind our own business and look the other way.
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I BORROWED

All i did was borrow. Borrowed without the owners consent. The sun rose and has now set. I have not made a cent To feed my hungry child, To tend to my sick son. Lying unconsciously probably even dead. I have failed as a man and father. But I die, not for myself, but for that child struggling to breathe Even as you drain all your energy on me Ask yourself this; are you better than me? Then you will understand. That I die for others but myself. I can stomach having nothing, In my stomach for one week. But the pain would be too much. For my three year old son. huddled somewhere in the cold. The only thing on, his skinny frame. And now you beat up his only hope. All because I borrowed a packet of milk. To save my only lifeless child. My life is in your hands and so is my son's. I cry these tears not for the pain I feel. But I cry for that little child. Cuddled up in the cold Perhaps waiting for me with hope of something to eat. God look after him for me ...
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