Oh my dead Africa!
How I still seek you like
The lion seeks the Zebra.
I feel like I would die
And no, I can't lie;
If you ever totally disappear
I swear these villages will surely get dry.
I miss the fireplace rhymes;
Barbaric tales of our ancient times,
As we sat and listened,
Imagining and creating with our minds
Vivid beasts, warriors and lands
Enjoying each primitive episode,
With genuine chills and smiles.
I recall the trips to the well;
Oh, beautiful girls without dress,
Donning pots and moving with grace;
Firm breasts, gorgeous curves and natural hair
Oh, we've since bid them farewell.
I miss the terror
Of trekking in jungles full of error,
In pursuit of adventure like the storyteller.
Now I only sit before these screens
My bones growing limp from disuse
And the abuse of cheap food
That robs me of life,
In this concrete jail I call home
And where even the beasts can not survive.
Oh, how we used to scream
Over mountaintops and from across the stream
Sometimes beating those echoing drums
To communicate with the unseen.
Now all we have is these keys
And insipid dreams of things we've already seen.
I miss the thrill of coming of age
Earning my place besides the sage;
By experiencing mystery and pain
As we hunted for the food we ate,
Learning to relate to,
The living sunshine and rain.
Yes, we still do try to impress
And win the hearts of the women we crave
But how we've lost the drama and art
And instead fallen prey
To useless materialistic craze.
We used to have to fight,
Hunt immense beasts in the wake of night.
We used to jump over cattle heads,
Get circumcised without a tear in the eyes.
We used to yell or
Compose and sing compelling tales.
We used to wait, under scorching sun or in the rain,
For when we could grab the woman we crave,
And declare our manly victory gained.
When we would age
We'd celebrate and retell our grueling tales;
Share wisdom, evidenced by our scars,
Balding heads and hair gone gray.
The young dames,
Would get instructed about useful shame,
How to feed and nurture their fragile babes,
And prospering with each passing season of grain.
They would master the secrets of their bed,
Learning to mesmerize and keep
The rib that chose to dwell in their crib.
They would sing songs that entrap the soul,
Serve food while it still was warm,
And controlling the pace of that rhythmic flow,
Would baptize with love,
Any lion they dominated below.
We protected our own,
Even from enemies unknown;
Using spears, shields and stones,
And sometimes getting real bold,
And using that potent, primitive magick we rolled.
We were truly invincible.
The warriors would bathe in blood,
The girls did have their herbs.
We would drink of arcane trees,
And eat of powerful beasts.
The heart would grow hard,
And over foreign lands, our spirit would be heard.
We slept in caves,
After days of endless shamanic raves.
We knew we weren't slaves,
But partakers in that mystic wave
That sweeps through plants, animals, hills and lakes.
And when time came for that eternal sleep?
We would not be enraged,
For we knew, there was another side to the grave.
We sung to the ancient ones
And never took for granted
Any moons or suns.
We would gaze to the heavens at night,
And submit our fears and desires
To those distant, but great celestial knights.
But now we've lost the light,
And sulk, at having lost the fight.
To the shrubs and trees
We turned when we were troubled by disease.
We protected each other's dreams;
The tree feeding and healing each man,
As we protected and preserved
Each species and shades we had.
There were morals and laws
Enforced by nature's own claws;
If a man killed his own,
He'd be weakened and would soon have to fall.
If a man yielded to sloth
He'd soon be weeded for being so,
In a jungle where speed and skill mattered most
And where beasts and savages always brawled.
Fear did have its place,
But to live and last long?
Courage and endurance,
One had to embrace.
Nature taught her laws
To any who would listen and watch.
There were no blackboards and no walls,
But from the day you stepped out of that womb,
Your ability to observe and learn,
Ensured you could adapt like any had.
You would learn to walk and talk,
Differentiate between the fox and dog,
Love your sister, but avoid her loins,
Know when to cry, and when to laugh.
You would learn;
To Eat the yellowish fruit, but avoid the blackening one,
Know when to sit, and know when to run,
Learn about valuing life, by encountering death,
And developing the use one's faith, for
There was always the greater unknown.
Oh how I miss those days now gone,
I can only dream, and live it like a song;
That ancient, majestic Africa that I mourn;
Whose flesh and soul have since gone,
And upon whose weathered bones I now walk
Since the coming of this enslaving new dawn.
Surely I shall conjurer;
I shall summon by those greatest arts,
Awaken and animate the light;
The spirit and life once gone,
To one day here return.
For that's how my ancient eternal African heart,
Was taught to live and survive,
All its future incarnations and vicious paths.
And so my children, women and men,
Strike your hearts to the rhythm of this song,
And awaken deep in your hearts,
Of that Great Africa, that we once were.
This is your song,
Is for all Mankind.