Paint me happiness on the canvas of illusion so I know it’s real.
Write to me a hate-mail in the ink of your blood so I know it’s love.
Fly me to the peak of Everest and there let my pride kneel.
Shoot me with knives and stab me with guns then I’ll know you want peace.
I look through impossibilty’s bottle with both eyes of disbelief but it breaks not.
My priest and my cobbler work the same job but one drives and one walks.
Death has died and yet salvation grieves…
Amin had a fridge
San Fransisco has a bridge
Kwaku grows cocoa
Lizzy eats chocolate
But they who need not, work more
And they who have not beg on
Was it not Abrewatia who said
“It is he who has that eats not he who hungers”?
Bake me a loaf with your propaganda so I can call you chef.
You are like that crusader of freedom who keeps his own slave;Jeff.
So tell me a joke with your sorrow and your tears so I know you are just.
Kill me with your broken promises so I can say In You I Trust
Break my back with your feather-weight burdens then nail my dreams to your cross.
Call my dentist and tell him my eyes are decaying with dirt so I need me a floss.
They bath with mud, our paragons of cleanliness.
They kiss our hopes into the grave with their ebola-stained policies.
They rape our voices with their impotent concerns.
We starve our mothers to grease their palms.
We bleed our energies to cure their allergies.
My trotro is their allergy and their V8 is mine. Your Nima is their allergy and their Trasacco is yours.
Our gari is their allergy and their salad is ours.
Wash them with fire so they know it is purity we seek.
They call me future leader and write me off with an exam…they thrive on my naivety…
I know nothing so call me Jon Snow…But at
least my conscience is as white as my surname.
One more time, paint me happiness on the canvas of illusion!