Mother Africa,
For how long will you carry this burden?
Your pried tongue ate the venom of foreigners
And you battle the pain privately
Oh Mother Africa,
The best way to keep non-violence in America
Is to keep a gun and use it
Man has no honor as his gun
Sadly Mother Africa,
The memory of your dark ages
Are more elegance than the grave we dig
Grave of joy or sadness
Take note, Mother Africa,
This fire burns to re-create
The rhythm of your slavery times
Blessed are those that are violence
For they have nothing to loose than their patience
Oh no Mother Africa,
Your children forget, each of your wing
Has its ways of running its affairs
But they run after the flagging garment
Like an ocean wave, running after a barren wind
Tell me what it could hold?
PART II
Sincerely Mother Africa,
Your hidden secret is your poetry
That your children hide in the cupboard of cobwebs
And steal the lines of romance, love, hate…
And thumbprint their livelihood
Before they own their women
I cry Mother Africa,
Knowing poetry is revolution, as to your concerned
But your children cannot feel the pains
Of this ongoing gunshots on their streets
Their ancestors weep from the sky
Even in the sun, and they call it rain
But in each rain
I feel the hotness of their tears
Hear this Mother Africa,
You carry the first pregnancy of this earth
And your husband is the first man
The world begins on you and so shall it ends
You are created to lead the world
But your glory had been traded
Will you heed this Mother Africa?
Tell your children not to accept Christ
For His offspring stole your cowries and gold
And lock you in psychological inferiority
I mean tell them not to go to Mecca
For Its Soldiers betrayed Afonja
And imprisoned your heart in dark dungeon of faith
Sorry Mother Africa,
Your death is in the hands of your children
They fraud violence and greediness
And slowly poison you with hatred and deceit
Let me not die in your children’s hands
But let me die a fair death
Like the death of Awolowo
