“You got the goldfish interview, as asked?”
“I did, sir, but he lacked the wherewithal
to answer me coherently, I fear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The fishing section
is looking pretty thin. You showed up masked?”
“Of course I did. That goldfish flu’s no joke.
He said he’s scared of casual infection.”
“Your killer question, then? Your master stroke?”
“What is the capital of Senegal?
My curver, that one: it’s my knuckle-ball.”
“You got a cogent answer?” “Nowhere near.
He knew, he said, but couldn’t now recall.”
“His love life? Did you ask?” “He yelled, objection!
He said, that’s why he hates newspaper folk.”
“But that’s the very thing with which you’re tasked –
to get the sexy stuff! You think he’s *****?”
“He said he’d tell me after taking coke.
It seemed to me a little circumspection
might do the trick.” “Unmitigated gall
is what I call it. What I want to hear
is, if he’s in that witness thing – protection.”
“I got the feeling he was trying to stall –
I probed him, but he had no recollection.”
If Senegal were a sailing boat
With masts new and strong
Ready to part the seas of Casamance
Gliding through waves in a trance.
It would set its course eastwards
Through the deep waters of Sandougou
Riding on a history so vibrant
Full of potent dreams and a future so bold.
If Senegal were a sailing boat
With the heart of a brave pirate
It would always sail to the shores of peace
Where hope greets and dreams meet.
Just climb onto the back of my Harley
And we shall ride to the songs of Bob Marley,
In no time at all
We'll be in Senegal,
Though I might stop for lunch in Kigali.
" Living love is better than prophecying love "
Quote by poet
Why loving them?
loving them more
comfort them
As they have generational fear.
Always think about the revenge
Of the good people they ill-treated for centuries.
President Cyril Ramaphosa once said in Senegal,"
We are here today because of our goodhearts
and respect that we showed majority westerners."
South African President spoke the truth
in front of thousands of senegalese youths.
It is difficult for majority Africans
to oppose their Ubuntu spirituality
( which is standing on true love )
because of some strangers
who invaded African territories.
Continue Loving some ( racists ) discriminators,
They will change one day.
September 01/2023
God no go shame us
I no fit shout
But all I can say is
Thank you God
It you no dey faithful
I no know as this world
For ugly for son of Man
I no fit Hala pass myself
Cos your Goodness
And mercy sweet pass
Mama ngozi jellof rice
Even Senegal own
No fit try you blessings
Upon my soul
I no fit shout
I no fit Hala
Cos I know last last Baba
God no go shame us
JOY & SUNSHINE
It was the music of Joy
by the AKA Trio,
three men from Senegal, Italy
and Brazil whose lilting play
was the gracious gift, through
kora, guitar and the softest
percussion, of the exhilarating
sound of sunshine
“Does it sound like springtime?”
she asked, “No way”, I said
“Like summer?” she asked, looking
at me with a face that suggested a
simple inquiry, speaking in a voice
sounding like a morning that would
last all day
I sat for a moment listening to the
music and looking at her and then:
“Honey”, I said, “It sounds more like
the way that I feel every day that I’m
living with you, not simply like the
spring or the summer or any season,
but like the enchanted, elusive essence
of grace that even sunshine, given a
chance to decide, would love
to become!
The AKA Trio is Antonio Forcione (guitar),
Seckou Keita (22-string kora) and
Adriano Adewale (percussion). Joy is their
debut album.
An African Queen
Senegal what do I know of that country
But I have sailed past her coast, alas, she
Is married to Dakar nothing I can do.
She spoke French the tall lady and sounded
Sex, my language seems like a bulldozer
Flattening a Palestinian home so I smiled and
Said little dismayed over my lack of speech
When it imperative to make injustice heard.
Tall she was walked like a gazelle she worked
At a place where she didn`t had to be up
At seven in the morning and anyway she was
Not from Senegal, it was Senegal I loved
My ship doesn`t sail her way, but I whisper her
Name Senegal, Senegal into the African breeze
I'm stuck on a voodoo doll
she's pinned me, she's sinned me
stuck on steal within me
may be alike soul that's akin me
don't matta none, she's jus' in me
I thought she might be from Senegal,
or Haiti maybe - someplace that's all
but said she's from Timbuktu - who knew?
she's here in me now, that's all
it may be unseemly
to be stuck by this voodoo queen
yet she's all I think
she's all I want
at the mystic brink
her wiles she flaunts
I can't catch a wink o' sleep
can't eat a g-damn thing,
I only hunger for her
with her gris-gris talisman
she might be my punishment
or she might be my nourishment
maybe my African that's heaven sent
no matta - she's my voodoo who do
what I need to do - no matta want to be
I'm stuck on this voodoo doll - that's all
© Goode Guy 2013-12-11
for Aromas for January 2014 challenge:
"poem about a voodoo doll"
The Carpet Seller and Dali Lama
The carpet seller in Cascais is tall wears kaftan and his ebony
face looks as a relief of an Egyptian Farao…. Carries his carpets
on his forearm (like an offering) and show to tourists who sit
drinking cold beer at pavement cafes. When they ask how much
he quotes a price impossible high for his worn rugs, to be sure
no one buys because he doesn´t want to sell them. He just like to
walk around, it is his ways, when tired he sits on a bench folds
the rugs on his lap dreamily stroke them and smiles.
Where he goes when it rains I don´t know, perhaps he has got
a room somewhere, a bed, a book shelf and a postcard from
Senegal pinned on the wall. I noticed he wears solid boots as
Dali Lama does when flying around the world meeting famous
people, giggles and says simple things about life and freedom.
The carpet seller is not going home he has become a colourful
part of the townscape, and Dali Lama will not see Tibet again
There was a man from Nepal
Who loved to play football
He kicked it one day
It flew far away
Scoring a goal in Senegal
When Meeting Beauty
I read the menu at the restaurant looked up and saw
a pair of brown leg stretching up to heaven and thought
this waitress is from Senegal, as all beautiful women are
born there, a poor country which God compensated by
given the people physical exquisiteness.
In my old man’s confusion I ordered goat chops which
was quite apt for my unbecoming thoughts.
When she served the food I looked demurely down
but did see her white teasing smile and saw her walk away
moving like a schooner on the high seas.
No, I’m not an improper dirty old man and didn’t make any
leering remarks, but it was a moment when I wished to
be young and be able to admire beauty openly and my
admiration would have been met with a smile....and perhaps
a chance of a warm embrace.
It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor
He was sitting at the bar, right next to me
He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean
But I listened when he spoke about the sea
There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales
When his leg was bitten off below the knee
How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall
He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree
Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew
Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew
So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast
Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew
After that there came the beast and the native king and priest
It was really getting far too much to bear
As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched
I decided that I really didn’t care
So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come”
That I needed to go out, to use the loo
So he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last,
Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru
Water, water everywhere! What a spectacular view!
The Master's Hand steers our course as we sail the ocean blue!
Though the billowing waves may toss our man o' war about,
The Master Pilot will keep us safe, of that I have no doubt!
I like to think that the playful dolphins leaping about our bow,
Were trained by The Master Navigator to guide our course somehow!
We've sailed the ocean blue seven months visiting mysterious ports of call,
Savoring The Master Creator's handiwork from Trinidad to Senegal!
Our rigging has been rent in battle midst furious shot and shell,
But our Master Captain's leadership has led us through so very well!
When standing midnight watch on moonlit nights upon the ocean blue,
I'm comforted knowing that The Master Guardian is watching over you!
My supplication to The Master of the Cosmos who directs all from above,
Is that one joyful day I'll hold you in my arms forever more, my love!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Blue on blue on blue" Contest - Jul 2011
A fly on Oprah's wall.
I think I'll build an Oprah mall.
All of this money
And still no honey.
I'm bored, I think I'll buy Senegal.
Please, hear my declaration, Africa,
your deserts and your plains call out to me.
Now hear my condemnation, Africa,
the killing of your people cannot be.
You are a land of plenty, Africa,
and yet this sacrifice you do embrace --
your people die each day, no food to eat.
Do you not see this is a vile disgrace?
You are a land of contrast, Africa,
from Mozambique across to Senegal.
Your nations’ apathy is cast in stone,
no ears to hear the pleas from great and small.
You’re now my inspiration, Africa,
to make my voice be heard across the land.
Create a new foundation, Africa,
your nations must unite and take a stand.
Africa, all your nations, hear my call.
Africa, Great Mother of us all.
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