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These were letters written in tablets of blood
We wrote the pains of yesterday today wittily 
On this seaside of swaying embargo of tablets

She was the song swept in pity and cruelty 
Daring the concubines that surround mother earth
She shared piles of honest sorrows in the street

When smoke of lies corrupted our honesty
We became captives of earthly idols to rule
Slaying bundles of watery hopes in our hands

For flesh was the demon that deceived
Our blood, the host empire sagging evil
Folly of today harbored crime of tomorrow
 
In sand of time have we seen this flesh 
Where water occupied the trinity of our being
Rays of light paddled off boats that guide lives

She cooked for all to eat and dance
They ended up slaying her into the pot
Exit the tortoise from its shell and cooked another lie


For her testimonies of the saints roared 
Armed and naked, cruelled and shallowed
they made honey through their sinful mouth
	
Till this very end, we’ll have this palm frond
Till another ash Wednesday to mourn her
For these tablets are full of deceitful truth
		
When she was younger and tender at heart
She showered her pink happiness to lips
Dressing emptiness to renew the wind

We are windows of thought to her soul
Dreams of new breeds, damaged in a
Satirical veracity that makes spirit ponders


For her flesh covered us in dusk and nightfall
Her blood, a sacrificial substance to the believers
Like the peacock, she spread her feather to protect

Africa is the genesis of mankind and evolution
She came yesterday with a song in her throat 
Here was the photography of our dreams she held
When she told of a neighbor who killed with mouth

For this diamond called home and house
Would not exit us through shadows and ashes
Through visible weightless wind among trees

Dust became grains in our eyes when she fell
People made others virgin of an oily wanderers 
Ronin and roving like dark armless sinister

When she looks at her children, time looses 
Concentration; staked and unbalanced to her
The flower may have lost a home to the wind
Depictions of bones, broken in families of lovers

Finding her children in a broken home of the past
Skulls scattered like grains of millets in the forest
Spirits wore bodies of new traveler to invade into
The emptiness that generated fouled originality

For flesh and blood, we would match forward
The rivers flowing out from our eyes would ceased
Africa is a green plant in the eyes of children 
Who killed her? Who damaged her fleshy thought?
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