Ivory horn of Africa From which wine is served To young and old, has become a commoner In the city of her ancestors She has deserted the land of her birth Enroute a path, unknown to her folks Destructive, o route, misleading. Listen!!! O people of the world, of Africa Children sit helplessly till sun sets and moon emerges Children, living within tired bodies Who shall overturn this curse? Africa must not die like the hero who dies in battle. Africa is the epitome of Beauty beauty with a name, nature exemplified The place of peace and freedom, Freedom to explore possibilities, Possibilities so divine. Let the weak arise! Let the strong hold them up!! Let every piece be picked up; every worn heart!!! Every man his own Let us rise again Our flag must not go down.
Araba! Days come and nights go, I roam the streets in search Of whom to greet and shower my love upon My face now wretched, I hide in regret More engulfed in this dilemma than Ananse in his web In the shallows of your heart. News travel of me – they say ‘your lover is mad’ and you bother not. Instead of paying for your hairdo, I am the poor fellow carrying that weird look Torn skirts my roofless shelter amidst the tease Spending and straining their muscles to call; them passers-by and your friends ‘The wild pet’, as wages I receive mockery. Araba, to you my all gave and you left me to fall... Araba, to you my time gave and you left me no dime... Araba, to you my love gave and you returned me a hard shove... Araba, I need an answer... What excuse shall I give God for this decision to depart the face of living mortals? Till then Your love, Kofi. (##ontopofSilverStarTowerBuilding##)
I see hope in that street child, a young lad To whom all seems bad Whose life devoid of hope Without a future, to gain To him, life seem but a restraint Nothing but white and black, good and evil But, I see in him that glimmer of hope. Once beautiful eyes, now tortured by poverty and his broken home clothes tattered, bare legs kiss the earth all-day Walking on weak limbs, I see his day ahead bright A brighter morning, a new day When the sun will greet his burned face and The breeze will blow anew his skin This hope greater than despair, I see. I see him walk past the limits of his predecessors Past the regions of hopelessness Into a new future, we hold- Blazing torch of opportunities Today, the street child makes his mansion under a bridge Tomorrow, he leads the team that constructs bridges- And all these would have been simply history. Copyright (C) 2012
