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Home of bondage
Behind docks for yonks,
am a born refugee
of the home of bondage.
Within the rite's prisons
am entangled in this inherited
conviction;
deep in our conscience.
Centuries founded walls
stand stiffly as board
inscribed by queer letters
letters that sum up to words of crime.
In 'their' presence we
make a jazz
our evil instrictive desires in a
sweet jargon.
We don't mean, 'cut down the mango
tree'
we mean, 'chop off their heads'
on exuberance of revenge;
vengeance to our ancestors,
we gang
against our brothers whom we differ
by the language of the tongues,
by the colours of the skin.
These selfish futile battles,
when shall they end?
The rites of vengeance
when shall we refrain from their
adoration?
My kids won't be such slaves
for this is my treason
my exodus from the home of
bondage.
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