Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
★★★★★ (4)
Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #1681340

A poem telling how tired we're of political slavery!

                                        Pains of my blood

My blood
His shell,
Spell of witches
Jeered by impotent calabash
Sniggering at the suns
Scorching his lips...
The excrets of the pregnant masters
Choke our lungs!

Like an escaped bondman
From the wrath of the colonial rifles
In a bamboo forest
With raw assignments
On his crouching back...

He's lost on a baked soil
With his baked ass
Leaning against the naked suns
Smelling his ancestors' bones...

His ribs wave at the revolving suns
In shameless shame
Of the ear-deafening covoy
My sickened blood
Blood of my reddest veins!

I know your  curse
From the Ass Rock
Where condors gather and mutter
The jargons of the dead...

© Copyright 2010 Chukwuezue Nnabuike (nnabuike at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.