Mosaic Memory
Frightend children under the baobab
Of elders discourse playing
At the deep edge of rites
Of passages
With no Atlantic dream.
There is a beauty here
Before the other world began
Forgetting its origin
And taste
Of white milk in black breast
Beautifully caressing
The tongue
Outside the jaws of greed.
The time of pyramids
Lolling
On the golden sands
Full with the jewels of history
Civilizations gone
And dead sphinx to come
To Alexandria dreaming
Far from the distant
Wonders of Timbuctu.
And after all that gain
Suddenly a flood
Of nothingness
Carrying totems
Of laughed animism
On children's head
Like weed.
Stale rum sizzling
In the heat
Of deception
Crackle lies
The missionary and prelates of doom
Smile when the boom
Behind us burst
Crankling chains
Move to the shackle of the feet
The heart coffled
To the suddeness of defeat
Stared at the deception
That could not win
Without the foul
Practices bred in smoke filled bars
Of cold desolate
places making a wave.
We come
From banks of river
Surety to insurance companies
For new ships
That carry us promisary notes
Of golds to cotton and cane
Replacing the earth hidden
Treasures
In a mother's bowels
We come
Dying
To change the mosaic to come
Into a place
Where you know may know
I am
The father of the race.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
