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+  Africa Speaks Reasoning Forum
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| |-+  Poetry (Moderators: Tyehimba, leslie)
| | |-+  Whip
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Eja
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Posts: 41

Roots


« on: February 15, 2007, 10:23:11 AM »

In the blink of an eye
while the rest of creation
rested the collective Eye
In the time it took
to momentarily shade
the light of that primal  I
Mankind emerged

Was all the vainglory inherent?
(the instinct to despoil
devour and declaim privilege)
I ask
Were those proclivities born
within that moment
while the light rested?
Tell me
Did one
from the unseen impulses
that hold dominion
in times like this
create this being?
(as a means of enfleshment)
Or were these instincts developed
(like stone turning to sand)
along the way?

What expression of nature
is the cannibal soul
of this creature?
The shark we use
to speak of bottomless hungers
The wind to speak
of uncompromising freedom
And after that self-delusion
(civilization)
is discarded
What is this mankind?
(what are you?)

We recoil in horror
at relics of monstrous
histories
Yet even now
within these civilized bowels
viral elements
of future barbarism
are eating thier weight
in restraint
And awaiting the day 
when thier appetites will dictate
what is in good taste

This foolish teacher they call
'civilization'
rests his power
on the assumption
that a higher morality
is inherent in the society
born from his manufactured
womb

The truth our Father
Time will reveal
is how it is
the collective memory
of past practices
(yesterday's barbarisms)
and thier consequences
(those long starless nights
when moon hid
her face covered
her eye)
Those rememberances
make a resumption
of certain activities
repugnant

But knowledge without overstanding
is like rain on desert sands
So the children speak
of how grandfather lost an eye
even as they play
with the same sharp object
that was taken from
the ancient's ruined
eye socket

Slavery oh you who love
cannibalism
mountains of skulls
gardens of bone
I wish it were true
that eyes will never see
such as you again

But I know better

I too have heard the crack
of the whip
that drives mankind
backwards
and downwards
even as they speak
of 'progress'

That delight given you
at the moment of birth
That which gave you
an unfulfillably sweet tooth
That bliss
which turned into a vengeful
yearning for paradise
A force within
that turns some into hunters
of the obscure
The voice that grips
like a vice but sweetly
like male clapsed
by female
promising heaven

Paradise
through technology
religion heaven
by virtue of conquest
sanctified by supremacy
of culture

Is it real?

This hunger
for the paradise we left
behind which is not lost
(we are told)
but only obscured
Voices
speak to our hearts
in deep sleep
and to all our senses
at all times

Here are bridges
we are surrounded
by bridges
From here
across the chasm
of opaque memories
to what we need

But remove the mind's eye
from butterflies, from trees
and the cool steady breeze
that transports thier essence
Then you might see
the vultures circling above
You might sense
The sharks in the wind
thier nature obscured
by the twilight
You might see monkeys
ripping meat chunks
off each other
"Brother!"
you heard
the one scream
just before the flesh
was ripped from his throat

And laughter.

Then I remember
innocence is
another word
for easily erased
memories
Innocence
a thing we see best
in the newly made
and on the dead
This last I remember
is also paradise
which is why
we left paradise

Because we desired mercy
and there was none
in Heaven
No second chances
no other destination
In Heaven we knew
if you slipped
it was a long fall
and if you fell
you broke your neck

We desired mercy
but there was none
in Heaven

So we left
we followed one ndombe
Him
Far ahead of us
so far that all we saw
of his light
was a little flicker
but his voice
spoke loud and clear
to all our senses
at all times

Yet
had we been close enough
we would have noticed
how this light
had no heat
and how the only thing
illuminated was
this ndombe himself

We would have noticed
that the only destination
was wherever
this ndombe himself
stood
at a given moment

We would have realised
that this journey
has no other destination
than wherever
this ndombe himself
stands
at any given moment

Then we may have looked around
and recognised
the hungry darkness
around this cold light
and we may have realised
what manner of Day we gave up
for this endless night.
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