A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

A BLISSFUL ANTHEM

Here we are for we are whom we are
Sons and daughters of the land we are
Fears and worries are uninvited guests
Like the showers of rain from open space
Smile and bliss are hidden behind space
Opening pages of restless and crucifixions.

For we are born outside illuminations
For we are born in shores of peripheries
We are the radars to let smooth upstairs
For we are stairs to let them ascend
We are the forgotten race of hospitalities
We are born in mangers of public dirties
We are born in dustbins to keep trashes.

Our eyes see nothing but the trivialities
Our bodies wear nothing but parched skins
Our backs hold our empty stomachs
Our lungs respire nothing but stinking
Our peace is found in bloodshed grounds
Our satisfactions are found in cannibals.

Because we are the second class beings
Our bread is rotten and leftovers tatters
They fight like bulls and we die like Jesus
We consume what we don't do produce
We bear, our sweat evaporates to skies
For we are who we are for our noble fate.

Our land is the battle ground to summon
To summon winners and the defeated
Our land is shaved to emptiness like
Like the professional barber playing
Playing in naughty to the poor head
We see tomorrow in our absence
For we are in the not our presence.

I TOO, SING AFRICA.