POEM: Revolution



There is too much truth to be spoken/ for us to be takin’ liberties and waxing lyrical/ about the pseudo-spiritual constant evolution/ of a conscious revolution/ that has little to do with the current predisposition of those who’re considered illiterate./ Too much truth which is said to be vulgar and brash — though accurate — for me to be shouting call-and-response slogans when the truth is I too have been called/ but I’m yet to respond coz I’m standing in line/ to “get mine” and cash in/ on my passion for word…/ I heard it’s the fashion here,/ yeah?/ See I fear that if I shout “AMANDLA!”, you might respond; “Ah, Where to? We’re already in parliament!”/ The dismemberment of the black psyche has been too vast/ for me to cast my die/ and believe that I can simply “remember” my way back into/ “Ubuntu”./ I’m soon to discover if the pen could ever be mightier than the sword./ With word as my iron rod,/ I could — when I’m bored — simply fix things/ six things at a time/ in time to appeal/ to you to (*singing*) “Be still and know that I am God”(X2)/ Nod then clap your hands,/ this crap depends on your approval./ Trivial though it may be, I need to feel/ like the “real deal”./ Still, I cannot help but wonder/ what spell I’ve got you under; that you sit/ and watch me repeat — in my finest diction,/ whether fact or fiction — truth that you already know./ So caution,/ I might blow outta proportion/ what you consider my portion/hoping for a contortion of your views./ You’ll choose what you will/ and lose what you feel is gregarious of me./ Hilarious to see just how changeable we are:/ “I’m a star”…/ reciting poetry at a bar!/ hah!/ Are we too dissimilar, you and I?/ Why yes,/ for I am “Daughter of The Universe and you are “Children of the Soil”./ Yet I toil to impress upon you that we are one,/ though I haven’t begun…for there is too much truth to be spoken!/I do hope I’ve taken the first step./ The rest, chap is up to you/ and you;/ and you/ AND you!



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