Songs of Deeda

We have been there

When all the birds caged
And all their rations:
The polished grains been counted
For each to dine on
And all we’ve cried of
To shatter the spells of time
And make him come closer to our beings
Then there will we weigh
Our own rice for the day

That was time and we had that food
The black-eyed bloods
Ravaging under their acne fluids
Those white turbulent faces priding ashore with tufts

But do you know
That they have won:
The brisk tusks of ivories
The undergrowth of the Congo basins
The fervent name sake of the gold coast
The staunch Kintehs of Juffureh
All passed through the serpent waters and into their boughs….

And we, what have we
Our own breads to share into pieces
That’s all we have been toiling for:
And our dead by Biafra
We couldn’t count…
Those naked murders of our own brothers’ bloods
The assegais pruning their stolen breasts
The pregnant gypsies, we battered
Crudely their immaturity
And we, at peace we are?


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