The Mandated African

From the time of my awaited arrival
Into the shores columbus claims
Into lucy’s palace, I flew
Built by foreigner’s red tears now calcified deep into hardened soil
Her land once resident to flowing milk and honey
Now full of flying paper-debts and glory billboards
Her rules quickly stamped on my skin, chipped and tracked inside tendons,
so I may never forget her emerald ways
Her scripted orders scrictly to follow
Blindly follow and you will never know
the underground makings of this gold-plated city spoon fed by
those in white tees submerged in brown border-crossed sweat
Follow blindly and your sold-out ignorance will temporarily save you from the fire that rages within these walls.

From the time of my arrival
Into lucy’s southern parts, I strolled
Then times: a lesson, for an unseasoned traveler
With my survival skills now tuned just right
Every loop hole, I must actively find
For lucy’s mandates were never meant
for the poor ones,
what more, a continental adventurer from
the so-called Ebola ridden lands
Here, even my buffalo’s siblings roll eyes when our souls jam
See I must find a way out, for me and others
Those others without a kobo to hold near
Those others who refuse to break bread with the judge himself
Those others who refuse to lay in bed with the devil’s bride

From the time of my arrival
to my survival revival, throughout my living, toiling, beneath lucy’s always glittering palace
I have found ways to keep my sanity;
methods that hold my faith of a united sahara
In these ways, I always seek courage on days when my spirit bar goes low
From my family’s strength filled by God’s light, or
good flowing rhythms that strike and fill soul
To a pen and spread out canvass
From these ways, I write out my own rules
Orders of a new way of surviving in lucy’s lands
Mandates meant for any African lost in the sea

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