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When this tinsel is broken again
and time is measured from now, 
the tide shall vanish in sorrow, 
Yesterday shall be remembered
in a whitish memorandum of hurt, 
I will ask Mandela for freedom again. 

When this time reflected anti clock wise, 
the xenophobia comes at work in minds, 
Our spirits shall bottle grudges of hates
chameleon in the corner of captivity manly, 
this shall betray our instances of insured lives
I will ask Mandela for freedom again. 

When this song is captured by strangers, 
Our voices become helpless to redeem it, 
we will match to the field and talk to the birds, 
images shall tame our innocence to the sky. 
With the rumble of the lonely cloud here and there, 
I will ask Mandela for freedom again.

When homosexualism and lesbianism
becomes the issues of the hearts to men, 
we will make a tattered and rough protest,
we will stand at the city gate of the sincity
brave, courageous and incomparably smart,
We will ask Mandela  for freedom again. 

I will ask Mandela of freedom of the press, 
I will ask Mandela freedom of expression, 
Angelou  shall write from the grave in flagging
eloquency of the African rightivity and nativity. 
Chimamada shall be the song of women colour, 
Habila Halon shall recreate men from measures. 





We will wait patiently for an angel to come, 
an Angel of hate and love because we are hate 
and love coupled diligently with the sunrise. 
Our soup shall boil to it brime  of intelligence,
this should be our crush of African cultures,
I will ask Mandela  again for freedom. 


What is freedom at the door of captivity?
What is freedom in eyes of a mother in labour? 
What is freedom in the promise of freedom? 
From this slippery end of enticement of hope
We will sit at the seat of strength and keep
asking Mandela for Freedom again and again. 

©John chizoba Vincent 
         Cam'god
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