Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
......
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
......
These things my spirit bids me
teach the men of Athens:
that Dysnomia
brings countless evils for the city,
but Eunomia brings order
and makes everything proper,
by enfolding the unjust in fetters,
smoothing those things that are rough,
stopping greed,
sentencing hybris to obscurity
......
Still falls the Rain---
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss---
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.
Still falls the Rain
With a sound like the pulse of the heart that is changed to the hammer-beat
In the Potter's Field, and the sound of the impious feet
On the Tomb:
......
Life's course is not an
easy path to traverse,
For some, it is rocky, for
others, worse.
Once started, there is no
visible return,
Albeit a smoother route is there to earn!
Each human has a will ethereally bestowed.
It is the only quality exclusively owned.
......
The night is cold; the world is old,
Time is running out; polluted and cold.
Greed as killed us all! stone cold,
So many People want, Gold! Gold!! Gold!!!
I want More! More!! More!!!
Fill my house till i can`t close the door,
Look at me, i should have more!
I hate those people who CAN`T close THEIR door.
......
Slobber on his shovel; this old man shits nothing.
Naked and shaking; his begging lips crack.
He swallows his honey, swinging his lanterns;
but piercing his darkness: two button eyes –
rimmed golden; reflections of want glazing his jowl.
His shadows birth those dregs swallowed.
Hounding sweet truth, his lanterns in hand.
Shine they do not, but gulp and lick that
waste remaining; unknown, still crunching.
......
Politics, a game of power and might
Where the rules are often bent and slighted
A world of deals and hidden agendas
Where truth is lost and ambition festered
......
In this human cult
There go sprinting rats
Chasing for the glittering bronze
Passing on the baton of grudge to their pups
Bearing on insecurities
With jaundiced eyes
Weeping miseries
Even as we still feel like a feeble pawn in a chess of gluttony, yet, You made us resist the temptation of greed deeply rooted in an aroma of enticing betrayal
Events of recent months affirmed that the scorching of these black skins is an incandescent reflection of the deep dark shades of some souls
Even as Ayi Kwei Armah’s ‘Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’ continues to bolster our disgust with injustice and will ultimately sharpen the ingrained desire for justness
Events of these last hours also affirmed that the cleansing of the malodourous souls are never awashed by an ocean of tears
Eventually, I pray the seeds of forgiveness sprout as Your torrent comes, as I am tired of writing the book of good in this library of evil. He will lead His people as I am indeed lost!
......