Poet-Today ~ Femi Morgan ~ The Arts-Muse Fair
There are no 53 Suns There are 53 landmarks that breach Our brotherhood Stretches of tongues that collude against us We bear the brunt of justified rape jalloping through the desert We whiplash the whips cramming us at the docks We are told that things have changed With the handshake of schools, mosques, odd men Who have displaced our kings. We are baptised new names that bear the signature of Greco-roman tales and Mesopotamian corruption so The world can be one 'civil' whole. A child that loses his name, his language and the Ways of his ancestors is lost Kidnapped to return to rule without a heart Looking down at his minions with a brutal eye Hearing the truth as the voice of dissent. Prisons are filled to the brim, we are trying to salvage Like buckets, Waging war against the flood. As long as men dream They can look at the tropical sun and dance Into the night As long as women tell tales Children will ask those questions that take us b