Wednesday, March 04, 2015

THIS WAS NOT WRITTEN ON 24TH FEBRUARY

Wherever the lessons of liberation bleed
Lion-hearts loyal line their tears with me
The struggle has been fought, 
But butchers branded in bulk
Bundle buoyantly and beam their bluff
Wherever the oozing, the blues of cold chop with
E. K. Kotoka on the string threads
Minds boozed red-faced under the blood shed
Millions of scalps merge, more than one louse
Spread above heads, 

Hands dust Hanoi huts, heaving hell 
Nkrumah, your own brothers left you with a lonely sail 
Even perforated like the post-independence dreams
And buried the books of shit-story
Burning the post-Goldcoast mood, bursting from brooks
Of embezzled banks of the mental leaving bitter buffoons,
Beckoning helluva imperialistic hunger and
Public orgies of intellectualism
About a hundred hierarchies, hacked heads bathed in anarchy, 
Rock-less ranks and file base, 

About brief mysteries mingling in every lie case
Carved in the naivete of superstructures borrowed from burrowed wounds
Enclosed in sandwich of colonialist bourgeois swoons
By the fireside fencing narcissistic monologues
A. A. Afrifa danced in circles too
Dictates via Rawlings' camo creeds displayed dirges of diktats

Tat for tits, sugar calls the ants
Gong gong stuck in armpits, drums dig the stunts
Wherever the lessons of liberation bleed
Lion-hearts loyal line their tears with me
Every pan African owns a pan for this tear breach
These raw years of eternal lies implanted in youthful minds
As the new phase invites lice to bald ears

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