I call it Afrika

On a hot sunny Sunday, I sat down and wrote

I wrote about the injustices and ills of society

I cried, wailed and weeped, screamed and shouted

Yet nobody heard me; nobody could hear me

The world was too caught up in its own world

It had no time to sit and listen to my wails and worries

This then got me wondering, wondering about a lot of things

Like this business of constantly being busy

Too busy to care or notice

I wanted to tell the world

That while it was busy being busily buzzing  about

While it was in a hushed hurry to rush and get somewhere

Somewhere was really nowhere at all

It did not exist

It was all an idea, a propaganda

Someone else putting forward their own agenda

I wanted to say that while it was busy

Sucking the sweet taste of jam on its lips

There was a loaf of bread on the table

With all the spreads that would it delite

It could feed until no more would it hunger

That while its children lay there dying

They could live again easily

If only they brake free from mental slavery

Emancipate yourself world!

Remember the good days of Word!

Free yourself from these shackles!

Emancipate yourself, go back to your roots

Where you will find your true self

What you have is not it at all

Your richness, oh you have no idea at all

What you have is not it world, what you have is not it

So I cried, I screamed my lungs out

But nobody heard me; nobody could hear me

*copyrights reserved*

Miss Understood-2011

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2 comments

  1. greatgodpan · March 30, 2011

    open your eyes world…and you will see that you are indeed the garden of eden.

    Like

  2. futuresoul · March 30, 2011

    @greatgodpan- Word right there my man!!! More power! More fire!!

    Like

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