POETRY FOR U Gh

Mild was his temperament : Like a lion and its prey, Learning the art of the bow In the mist of his foe. His heart was forged By the gods As a blue whale's bone. Cooked was his mental being By the ancestral bond, And in reason lies his wealthy Speeches from the wisdom of old. In his eyes saw I the ferocity Of a wounded snake, Readying a calamitous sting. And in planning, saw I Ananse Weaving his cunning web, For a wholesome catch... "strike them hard With 'e shock of 'em lives " Was his mindset in display Yet, a silent command. But finally he spoke " give me my land, hey! Mr stranger " " give me back my birth right ". Jokarth Agubiya

Once a time in Paint    Came in the saints       Singing songs        Of holiness For the red cup        In Paint. Pomp was word    Of the day   In sermons.    Sages, lay,        Danced    To their tune, Anticipating      Manner.          But  Wolfs in sheep Clothing they    Were. And       O Paint! What a plight?      O mine!   No sooner was the         crowning Than, they  Joining the train  Of whopping thieves.

Behold Ta meri! Behold Ta seti! Now in dire need Now in servitude For loosing her pride... Behold Ta meri! Behold Ta seti! On whose plight I speak ; Lured to the kill For loosing her Kings... Behold Ta seti! Behold Ta meri! The mother whose Doors are closed To her children... Behold Ta meri Behold Ta seti The mother whose dreams are Shuttered shedding geniality, Now at the gallows... But I dream of the future When her Kings Will assume their stature, When her home will be rid Of its bonds from its wooers. I dream of the future When her children Will price the bounty Of their harvest without The invisible hand - The future when her children Will walk across borders, To share a cup of pito Over their decision for A better tomorrow. I look to the future When in want her soul Will feel no despair. I look to the future When in penury Her soul will feel no vial But joy and glory . Glory in its peak of glow, Glory for her and her home, Glor

Tribal mark is the name you're called You serrate your victims dimples, Forehead and cheeks with scars. Denoting the identity intended At first sight with your bearer. Yes, your purpose is fulfilled Yet deform is your victim, With the scars to reform. In this age of Aquarius, Familiarity and a name Is identity disclosed.

Mama tell him seh war a nuh fun ting Mama tell him seh put dung di gun ting Mama tell him seh gwaan go look a work Do likkle farmin her Someting Mama tell him war a nuh di ansa Cause it nah have nuttin to have fah Only a bullbox and ?? There is no happy ever after Gangster life ain't no joke I best advice you stay out Once you’re in, death is the only way out. We need to put our shoulders to the wheel, Lift our heads above the water and wake from slumber. We don't need no gun(Price) to ra ta ta ta. We can make it with just the priceless LOVE!!!! By Collins Achuliba

What kind of a teacher are you Mr. Teacher ? What kind of a teacher are you madam teacher ? Do you mind teaching the children their past ? Teach them not to believe the fictitious books teacher ! Give them knowledge of the conscious heroes Mr Teacher ! Teach them of the conscious self. Tell 'em to such for the facts teacher... So... So  they won't become like me... So... So they won't forfeit truth when it's stares at them. So ... So they won't shun their ancestors. So... So they won't shun their ways Mr Teacher ! What kind of a teacher are you Mr Teacher ? What kind of a teacher are you madam teacher ? What kind of teacher are you father ? What kind of teacher are you mother ? That you teach your children to get lost... That you teach your children to travel far away... That you teach your children to look not for you. What kind of teacher are you Mr. Teacher ? What kind of teacher are you madam teacher ? What kind of a teacher are you ?