there’s nothing of mine they haven’t attacked,
They call themselves family,
yet they’ve stayed up at night, to feed me on boiled meat, goat testicles and faeces.
I woke up in ’14,
surrounded by garbage, the lone star my companion on the horizon, shining dim,
I had trudged in murk faintly oblivious of their roadblocks, guided by the stubborn human spirit
A resolve to live no matter what.
Suicidal thoughts were behind me,
Mum was dead a decade then,
There’s was no reason to torment me with longing
Of soft shoulders and cold biceps
hard, painful limbs asking why,
I had accepted the fate of the one who bore me.
Strangled at night,
Strangers in my houses,
I accepted their battle, entered the field of war,
Then strangers changed.
They were now dressed in robes
Golden, purples and white,
Frightening me out of my bewitched persona,
A new path, full of light and calm.
I embrace and shed off the old haggard dog,
Carcass taken over by vultures,
while the sun calmly shines
on the shores of what looked like Lake Victoria
I move fast, but stopped again.
The witches and wizards are at it again.
Asking for my help, i refuse, they sabotage!
“T’is your star, they want”, shouted the preacher
Instead of polishing, there’s, it’s my money they need most,
To find muscle to reach more witches,
I abode for a time. Then cut off.
I became enemy very fast,
Hounded out of jobs,
Made to suffer with kids under me,
Am a stranger to the land of the cowardly gods,
Save for African Spiritualism.
I would’ve been a gone case.
There’s nothing of mine they haven’t touched.
They’ve chased her away during the day,
Tempted her at night.
They’ve struggled with the Ethiopian lady, for the most part of her complete life,
They are now on the handsome Japanese,
Fighting a fighter,
A fallen angel, discovered at death
A reincarnation of a warrior king,
A quiet, courageous man
Only they are cheated,
They don’t know what they are up against.