Kongi

Kongi

Wired mortal from the English Art Banished from his home, spotted from a distanceNoble amongst scrawling African inscriptionsFirst veneration of mystical mindsTake a bow, take a bow.Obliterating deliberate disregard From interrupters of our histories, With trophies, allays a regret and lossSo little for so great a heart, Take a bow, take a bow.Liberal lord of limpid looksGrand philosophy too many for little minds, Art of African artsImpenetrable obscurity to the impatient, Take a bow, take a bow.Entangled genus in the darkest harbor, Found in a waste howling wilderness, Left to die in the gaols like their many kills, And death too weak, spewed him in his flowersTake a bow, take a bow.Scrupulous dexterity of the bearded laurel Multitudinous nobility and countless soothing saccharineA restoration of our dignity not celebrated, and un-sung.Tyrannous candor engulfed intelligentialTake a bow, take a bow.Obdurate at the palaces of murderersSmiling at military cavalcades, the terror of comrades.Where barrels pacify the wrangling of children men.A beholding bluff like Ogun’s iron garbTake a bow, take a bow.Yea, the snow-like signature in scraggy formImpresses nature’s validity on his authority, Corroding flesh lacerate aptness from his brow Gyrating orbits of unmatched intelligenceTake a bow, take a bow.Invisible man from the “kongi” kingdom Imposing trepidation on pharaohs in the jungle, Brawny penchant where others retire, On Lagos streets and London’s courtyardTake a bow, take a bow.Nibble in niggle, stripping rogues of honorLoathing unsavory milk unlike sycophantsDiscarding opulence to mediate for the poorWith no reward or crown in intentionTake a bow, take a bow.Knack for wars with imperious monstersA constant blustery of unrepentant “Vagabonds”Dusk till dawn, yearning for Justice.Crying still, for murdered motherlandTake a bow, take a bow.And if he dies tomorrow, As death to all must come, His posture, a statue for ever, On our minds and in those rulers of the jungle.Take a bow, take a bow. Dedicated to Prof. Wole SoyinkaNobel Laurate 1986

Ode to our Negritude

Ode to our Negritude


Luminous light from far away France lit the path of self-knowledge
Lending insight to the bruising of our natural coats by pale minds
Precocious volcanic lyrics erupted from captives and bond brothers
Harmless writs on hardened backs break now in pieces, a philosophy
For Africa reminiscing our untold indignities and countless opprobrium.

Eager, yet confined; in their labors dying in installments in heated hatred
Edicts of antagonism borne in a spree of speechless mocking of taskmasters:
Obtuse commanders scrutinizing with guns and rifles
Ready to waste fellow fragile fitted frame in fanatical frenzy
And shattered carcasses shoveled as dirt into unready graves

Odours of death in every dawning of their morning masked with Vodka
Offensive Hide the cause of the increasing throes of sojourners
Timorously invaded by nightmares and befuddled by stolen night winks
As fish out of water, gasping for unfriendly breaths of survival
Necks twisted from constant back watching of invading vampires.

Pretentious humility to thaw their fierce feelings and daily kill intentions
Propitious hopes of liberty from enforced tyrants and steal masters of colony
Waiting, and waiting still for bigots’ new knowledge that same blood runs in all
For the rancorous raging of unspoken hate to cease in our world
But “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”

Ostracized yet conscripted to run intricate errands for their ends
Obnoxious demands vex the soul yet never a word of phobia in mannerism,
Rock breakings, imposed horticultures and nameless chores of shame.
Hoary, worn, frail, with empty stomachs or aspirin infested bones:
Bond of scribbling sufferers melting the heated point of liberty

League learners of law carved on stones roadmaps and log
Littering walls with profundity and reckoning reason for the flight
While royal lords obscured in these brogue and deep jargons
Slept on in their drunken stupor of willing ills and accord
Until the shame of tyranny was espoused through lenses and goggles

Dogmatic canting as illusory bliss in covered faces once made bold
Dumb drums mutate into apathy from border to borders.
Slaves are freed by truth and Masters take the place of ignoramuses
By all wickedness in their nature and bestial hating of color
Burned in anger with damaged health of the bearer of the burden


Skeptics, though pained, mock at the pens of forerunners of freedom
Stimulating tired feet of loving lovers of nature’s honored color into action
Who built others’ walls having none but etched civility on their minds
Erected the schools from Ethiopia to Greece, Rome and Britain,
Yet, our humble start flowed from France from the painless pen of a few.

Eccentrics from humble beginnings in a cavalcade stir up dormant brethren
Egregious rabble-rousers oppressed with water canisters and rubber bullets
Offspring of choristers of cramp cathedral on Wall Street as sturdy icons
Yesterday Misgivings morphed into glittering stars of Hollywood skyline
Though some still harbour ampoules for needles of hatred and bigotry

Duress herald diplomatic dialogues in treaties for gains from motherland
Diamonds and precious stones, gold excavated heaped on dromedaries
Hauled to Zurich as treasures; loot of brigandage awaiting fiery judgment
Evangelized uncommon wealth made common by the amity of deception
Enriching “Her Majesty’s” coffers and pamper Princes and Presidents

Anesthetizing our wounds with priestly bells of Sabbath’s confessions
Appalling injustices and perfidy executed on African borders
Occidental museums shamelessly exhibit black crafts
Were they bought, borrowed, or stolen?
You that read know better than I do. Trust me.

Roars of deprivation thunder again as boundaries are zipped
Ridicules of chauvinism as Imposed Masters require a Visa
English from their colonies and France from their states
Where lie the privileges of subjugation?
Hypocrites. Keep the answers; we shall keep paying your due$ for entry.

Surprised? Even they, beggarly request hundred-dollar bills from voyagers
Squandered fees of “Refused” tourists while foolishly allowing feigning Terrorists
“We are rich”. How? With the widow’s mite of black brothers as Vi$a fees.
One million applicants yet one unworthy choice at random in diplomatic continuance
They are pitifully poor without this fraud. Trust me.

Evince my truth false, bring reasons to disprove my lies, I ‘d love to be stupid
Employed leading lords of our jungles are their pets, we know well.
Our criminals are well tutored to vandalize at their instructions
And are hailed and fooled with flattery words and accolades
Lording us in unfinished ruin by Mr. Presidents and Her Royal Majesty


Negritude is new never dead as they think it did in France, “I am Black and Proud”
Never was He killed like they do today
Like Damilola Taylor, or the innocent unknown secret murders of scores of settlers
We are fools and remain so as long as serenity overcomes arrogance
Our weapon is peace, Love is key. Trust me.

Groveling in crust under sponsored supervision of state to launder
Grit of groaning heaved on homeland searching out the goods amid deprivations
Castles of gold and jeweled stones but smidgens as reward for abhorred skin brothers
Lacuna of hate on these minds cloaked in invisible supercilious attires
The scorn appearing in Britain, America, Russia, France, Japan and Germany

Hearty acrimony, rancorous disdain for inveterate shades of difference
Humiliating ours, like Jews to the Gentiles, though from same loin twisted.
“Are we better than they? ” Are they not all slaves to one master unregenerate?
Cease; bury arrogance, same sky, rain, cloud and sure same judgment soon
Welcome brother again, love is the key. Trust me.

Organize the fractured system; the hue does not determine the soul of Man
Objects are covered with particles; the value is invisible, same with all men
Seek meaning. Dig deeper into reasons, visible jewels rot and mutate.
Who is Man? The colour or the stature?
No. The Soul. What canst thou know?

Recognize with reverence His wisdom. Stop the snow if you can
Relent from odium; abate the rain, in your wisdom.
Restore the dignity with humility,
Repair the broken bridge
Regard not my hurting letter; still very humble but not a slave.


Dedicated to Late Leopold Sédar Sénghor