Mother Eden's Tales

Mother Eden's Tales
These incessant unwanted hisses that dot my lips with spittles;
The involuntary blinks of lids: a result of heart aches;
And the jecks of these dropped shoulders;
Hmmm; I cracked smile my agony face: a cover up for tumbling mind;
Atleast I should be brave for the mines- I taught.
I am a land- west of the Alkabulan,
Home for larges of black race.

My hunger is not of wants,
Milks flow deep in my breasts;
My wants is not of lack,
Meadows green-beds nest my Courtyards;
But of the fore-privilege of my offspring,
That pummeled their blood-relates to selfless esteem,
Even invited strangers to eat their flesh!
T's agony of motherhood.

Sometimes I wish I can flush them
down the drain of cold hands;
As they bath in the tears of my depriviledged children;
Sometimes I wish, I can close on them;
the doors of entrants to my domains to stop these sucking of blood: children livelihood.
These strangers, my milk they suck for growth;
depriving them of their birth-right.
These entrants, my urine they scoop;
to burn their technologies to bum.
Sometimes I wish I can cease my urine;
Maybe they will leave me be;
Just for a time: a detour;
My water ways dry: maybe they will go back;
They are the termite: eaten the juice and pumping the dust;
they are the odour: polluting my elite children;
Oh my children, my children, my children are now cannibals too;
Eating the flesh of blood-relates: there skins fall off their backs;
My children.

They are like their father: ho Alkabulan!
If you were here; the labour of these heros past;
Shalt not be in vain.
I was your bride; 'My Eden'! You would call;
Adorned with trees of different fruits; you tended;
You danced around me in valour and defiance;
This moistured eyes are not for you my lord Alkabulan;
But of my children: working as slave in their father's house;
The strength of great warriors withered in battle;
They beg to be given bread amidst plenty;
Their brothers cheering them on: endure! Just for a time!
What should I do, my lord?
These fore-privileged have gone sore,
They even dress like them that renamed you; Africa
The greediness of the 'cifer has taken hold of them.
They gather what they do not need;
They have gone the ways of agilinti.

I know you still remember;
YO is still here luscious and wise;
HA is till vast as the seashore;
IB is creative and relentless;
They are strong and capable of a kingdom of own each;
But they are tied together at the waist;
Can't even move, nor fend for selves;
Only to fight for crumbs;
I weep for our Children,
What should I do, my lord?!

The royalty in their blood,
Even same inherited from you;
Claw for dominance.
They are lions that cannot be armour bear for tigers.
The eagles that will not eat carcass like vultures;
Their strength is in rulership,
Having territory of own but still blood relates;
What should I do my lord?!

Here I sit, as He had commanded,
As loyal to you as ever;
That's what we were taught;
Here I sit, weeping in despair;
Hoping our children will turn dear;
That's what would be joyous;
But these YOHAIB have gone gaga;
As there tongues differ;
So their minds and dreams;
What should I do; my lord;
I seat still here hoping.