Belly of the Beast

African tales painted into motion canvasses
Black, red and bleak
Poverty, war and famine: usual suspects
all compacted into one long stretched out scene
Though,
I must yarn these swing reels
all ring out: hollow vessels

When surrounding a table,
under moonlit nights,
crime acts commenced
greedy monkeys and neck stretching ostriches sit and devise: revising.
Plans; schemes of
dividing the people’s wealth
hiding the people’s future
wringing puppets for decorated leaders
deep pockets, devil smiles:
going far beyond yonder
Their eyes full and brim with deceit
All staged, perfectly primed for a proper western lens
Though, somehow always missed by the Favreau’s

Yes, I gats yarn
Man must yarn
The world has moved, the jungle too
Black suited, the lions still roam and rule: white teeth glaring, baring
The world has picked up pace, the jungle also
Yet, we of the Africa lands are trapped,
held hostage to only show side-face: our death first

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