We are happier, under the Tropics,
In a smaller cargo ship,
Who goes towards Mozambique,
Happier than rue de la république ;
We are happier under the Tropics,
How old is the captain then?
He could be your stepfather,
He saw the Philippines
Did he read, Jean Giono?
In his cozy small cabin?
In a smaller cargo ship,
Who goes towards Mozambique,
We are happier, under the Tropics
NB inspired by the commercial port
As long as the wind still blows
His words will still reecho
In the dreams we forget when we wake
In the thoughts that dip and surface.
"Africa must unite
We have the resources
We have the manpower
Only unity remains"
These words will fly with the Monsoon
Across the plains of South Sudan, Cameroon
Climb the hills of DR Congo, walk the lonely deserts of Libya
Drift through the woods of Mozambique, through Ethiopia’s.
They will reecho in Somalia’s savannah
Breathe through the Sahel, Nigeria’s deep oil fields
Flow with the Yenge River of Sierra Leone
Until we hold them close, and call them our own.
And maybe then, in silent knowing
We’ll find the meaning we kept postponing.
There once was a man from Mozambique
Who went canoeing most every week
A white water battle
Cost him vest and paddle
Now he's really up the freakin' creek
Know your roots
Sometime when you hear
about the big population of Wayao
in Eastern and Southern Africa
with many kind chiefs
and one king.
You will say
They are so wise ,
With a strong leadership.
When you read the history of the yao people
And find out about the creation of their language.
How they could mix Ndendeule, Nindi
Matengo, and Kiswahili
to make Kiyao
"or Chiyao "
You can think of the wisdom of those ancestors?
Don't forget about the coalition of Matengo, Nindi
and Ndendeule people who made the current Yao people who are in Tanzania , Mozambique,
Malawi , Zambia , South Africa and Zimbabwe.
Yao people are among african peaceful , sociable
and powerful nations who can tolerate
attacks of the weak nations
for a long period while preparing to silence
the attackers systematically.
When you provoke Yao people many times
You will regret one time
and learn a good lesson.
Don't forget some group of yao people
who left Mozambique to South Africa
In 1870 after the war against the coalition of makua,
Lomwe and mwenyemaliya people on the Yao mountain
now they are among the Zulu nation.
The stud kicked sand in the face of the geek
Shook his golden curls: "You're so very weak."
The geek worked out every day
New muscles proudly displayed
Kicked 'golden curls' halfway to Mozambique
Lived a sly lady of Mozambique
who seductivly offered a peek.
Men paid her a buck
but were out of luck.
What they saw was totally oblique.
That chilly night in Bucharest
As I lay down in my bed to rest
Torrents of thoughts assailed me
Avalanche of questions tore my heart apart
As I reminisced over the events of previous days
I felt the world moving in collective dementia
As disasters and heinous crimes of every shade
Broke minutely to confound the troubled world
Scores of souls roasted in the belly of Ethiopian whale
Worshipers pulverized on the altar of extremism in New Zealand
Furious flash floods kill and displace in Indonesia Papua
Cyclone Idai hitting hard in Zimbabwe and Mozambique
Man is endangered in his natural domain
By his daily contrivances for gain
His garden must be cultivated with better care
To produce trees where every bird can perch freely.
Nature's roaring wrath:
Environment's call for help
Man on flooded ground!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 March 2019
5-7-5
* Australia, New Zealand, USA, Iran, Mozambique and many more countries around the globe have been devastated lately by extreme natural phenomena. When are we going to take seriously nature's warnings?
I walked pass the glorious work of Prinsloo and Vuuren
that great and tall statue of Rolihlahla Mandela
Embodying conciliation with a smile
Embracing unity with open arms
I turned around to satisfy myself in honoring the mighty hero
Closely I looked, carefully I observed, narrowly I meditated
Woe the horror I perceived, the truth I realized, the loneliness I sensed
the agony of confusion I perceived with eagles vision penetrating beyond the smile
I heard with ears of wisdom the still whispering voice in the dark mumbling
“After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb”
Turning around with a troubled heart at the lesson I heard with ears of wisdom
I heard a voice from distant lands with great power crossing the colonial borders
It sounded like the voice of that great hero of Mozambique saying
“Aluta Continua”
It is the origin and hope of a thousand children, the love that transforms young seedlings to plants.
Its breath canvasses the woods of the Zaire o'er the hills of Zimbabwe down to the lowlands of the Mozambique.
It is the great tide that accompanies the Nile to kiss our cheeks at first light, the stars that glitter when the sun slumbers in celestial furlough.
Tis the bravery that enveloped the hearts of our forbearers, the burning lamp at the towerwatch of the Zanzibar.
It is the courage to walk the dark places in mythical lore. the strength that flows in Simba's pride.
It is the tongue of the Phoenix; the screams at slaver's bay. Tis the blistered feet of enslaved athletes at the diamond mines of sierra Leone.
Tis the very thread that weaves us in the roots of originality. It is the bowl that feeds all with kindness, the souls of a million bound in Porter's fellowship. Tis the spirits of my black martyrs
At a place where life is tested by things out of our control.
where human life depends largely on a pill and faith.
To see the looks on the children's faces.
Hope for the briefest of moments.
Pay it forward we preach.
But how?
What do you do
or what do you say to a hungry child,
A child with a devastating life-threatening disease?
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for
and the evidence of things unseen.
We can quote, sure enough,
but what is faith really?
Surely faith is hope in the love of a God we can not see,
and for that matter, can not understand.
Now faith helps me believe He has a purpose and reason
for all things that happens.
These children that stole my heart at the very second of arrival.
These children that suffers on a daily basis.
They have taught me
that hope, faith and love is always near.
Hope of a better life.
Faith in an unseen God
and love for the small things in life.
I stand here in front of the fire,
reflecting back on the day,
realizing that these children has life in abundance.
To them the kingdom of heaven awaits
with special rewards.
FOR THE BOYS TO MEN OF MOZAMBIQUE
(APROPOS CONDOMS FOR PEACE)
PRESCRIPT:
The tinted thin twisted twine
hued with the colors of sunshine
wraps around the cold blown latex
creating full balls to kick away the pain.
Happiness is a child’s game
chasing away the pangs of hunger
lingering in the abdominal gas chambers.
Forced smiles starve off reality. The weavers weave.
Hope hangs in woven webs of nightmares blowing
in the dusty winds of barren fields of dreams.
PRELUDE:
The mirage of food fades; the skies crack;
parachuting condoms blanket the parched fields:
POSTSCRIPT:
Today the world cup overflows;
Perpetual balls of blue fly everywhere;
But food is disqualified and is denied entrance.
New balls.
Same old game.
Wars and pain remain.
O Lord my God!
Is there no shame!
Having decided to move on he trekked onwards down to Lake Malawi pausing overnight
on its lush banks. Watching the animals and birds coming to drink in the fading light,
lions roaring nearby. Nearly time for them to hunt, an awesome display of their might.
Yet seldom messing with the elephants, little chance against their towering height.
Moving on come morning following the coast through Mozambique the ocean a pretty sight
murmuring waves lapping the coral white sands and forming pools an eel giving him a fright
Steadily heading south destination Durham. There to catch a clipper finding its berth tight.
Avoiding the bows where caught fast is a ray stinking worse than potato blight.
Blown off course, he sees Table mountain towering cast in tropical golden light
Impatient now to make up lost time the captain orders full sail and the ship takes flight
over the Indian Ocean watching the dolphins cavorting , they arrive at Port Hedland a welcome sight
The Famous Footballer
There is a great sorrow over Portugal a dark cloud
of tears, the great footballer Eusebio has died.
All the great and mighty in the Portuguese society
tell of their friendship with him, even the president
came out of his shell and declared three days wake.
When the great Nobel prize winner of literature
Jose Saramago died his departure hardly registered in
the papers...ok. So he wrote novels, big deal.
Eusebio da Silva born in Mozambique son of a railway
worker, was a friendly man, just the type of black man
white people like to patronize. Sadly there is a political
angle in this out pouring of grief, Mozambique is rich
and Portuguese industry needs their minerals and oil.
Spilling of tears can be advantageous
Had a dream I was a Freak
From the Outer Limits of Mozambique
While I was prancing around, people would shriek
At the plates in my lips making it look more like a beak
Then the dream skips like more than a week
I'm sitting on a Throne as the King that they seek
All in all
Guess nothing's wrong with being
Unique
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