Canny Amah Poet I do not know?

Haba! Aids – Iv

Then if you are real
Like mother’s kitchen broom 
Wipe out my Africa 
Like a clan of cockroaches –

Rumour eats my Africa 
She trades itself 
For the meagre funds 
Gathered like firewood 
By those new big-bellied men 
Who buy & sell men’s hearts
With a piece of white paper 
Or barter them 
Through a cake of seminars
Chaired by the gun! 

Then if you are real
Wipe my Africa 
Wipe a whole continent 
Out of existence ... 

But whoever goes to UN 
Help us 
Tell our story to WHO
For Africa shall spring anew 
Together with other Third & Fourth globes!

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