The horrid wheels of devastation
I will let tradition lead and be its passenger
Till time tilts and becomes still.
For I had broken much of its hollow bones
Yes! Tradition must ride, I pledge in truth.
When stabbed with the saber of the corrupt
I promise to stitch my lips with the needle of silence.
O, they can swipe as much monies
Its surely traditional rites!
Shall it ride on crippled wheels?
Silence must be my judgment and revolt.
For now my throat is parched.
Walk into house of Aso. See what it holds,
Take your cut. I’m definitely with sliced tongue.
My strength is gone and my tongue is dumb.
So must tradition rides on skeleton tires?
I shall no more be the bump in this path.
Cruise, O cruise! We await a dead end,
With broken and impoverished hearts,
When this nation’s heart crashes!
meet the poet: Stephen Crøwn Gyet
I have always been a lover of history. Recently, I was reading about the history of slavery in my country. I learned that the kidnapped slaves were often times trained warriors. In the 1600 and 1700’s the slave population outnumbered the whites by staggering percentages. Slaves had access to weapons and horses. They were even left alone by their masters. Given these circumstances, I often wondered why the slaves didn’t revolt or leave. The only reason I came up with was that their will was destroyed and a psychological prison was put in place. They were stripped of their dignity, names, religion, people and culture. I think we can all look at what makes us so obediant.
Its more of a psychological than physical prison in which they found themselves. Again, their captors were ruthless with their guns which fascinated the primitive slaves…they say the guns as magic and could not defy them…
Imagine being sold by your own chief, or father
It is unimaginable for me, but I can try to empathize. Speaking as a mentally ill person (I’m bipolar) , I know how an injured mind can control a person. Everything must be done to combat this living hell.