UNTOLD PASSIONS OF AN AFRICAN CHILD II

He Said:Come, come my Mother’s daughter
Let my sword return to your sheet so that we can birth peace
Lets take the home back to our houses
Lets take back the crowns to our kings
Lets make a speech out of our talks
And a voice out of our words
If only every finger will become a hand
If only we can make a rain out of every drop
Then we can tell tales by moonlight
Fetch oil and wine from every palm
The dusk will flee for the dawn
And the roaster will announce the Morn
These I cried as a prospect from the bar
Now a suspect wailing behind bars

I hear their rantings and chantings:
Africa could be potent but lacks potency
Any Dick could have sons
But not all will be Dickson
Anaan, Obama and Mandela they cheered
That one, this one and that other one they jeered
They said: Africa rules America
Yet Africa can never rule Africa
That we no longer can curdle
The civilization we once cradled
But here I am a humble scribbler
Telling the untold passions of an African Child
Vulnerable to all sorts
Deprived of hope and Comforts