My Country; My Identity.


My country lies thin on muddled grounds,
Erratic sounds roam wild like hounds in this berserk town
Strong enough to repel the albino foreigners and lost seekers
Dressed in rust and gold, vainly searching for a home away from home

My people, programmed puppets for our display and amusement
Seamlessly talk-that-talk of others like morning news behind closed doors
Suffering in silence between the imported wall prints
Nothing but a valise of little hope, pessimism, regret and shame

Past acts of injustice and slavery, foolishly blamed for our backwards society
The “kini big deal” mentality, a paradox to our devastating reality
Where the mornings are loud with clamor, afternoons barren and nights nothing
But the wide-stretched dissonance between street behaviour and youthful misbehavior

Hatred of the blood that flows through their dilated veins
Despise the hustle-and-bustle we endure through in bitter vain
Endless news of serial killers, political losses and medical fatalities reign throughout the bittersweet days
One more step out the barbed-wire gate, a quick-long route to a fixed escape

As life, encircling with akoba-adaba, where evil must be done and repaid to get to the apex of hierarchy
Daily connections with uneducated kings and queens keep us moving on our trodden feet
Allowing us appreciate the rural aesthetics of the city cruising backseat in our Land Rover 3
Watching the rising pandemonium we call home, tear, punch, kick and rip themselves to a death unknown, a death inhumane

My country raises its fallen glory high
Cutting corners and borders into the sapphire blue sky
The vibrant colors of the flag speak boldly, lucid to us
Of how independence is just a title, nothing more and less to show for it.

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