The nation without a soul II: The lions rule the grassland
The lions kingdom only grows grass
Yea
And the lions leave their kingdom
Yea
The lambs got eaten before they could herd
Yea
The grass is lush and inviting
Yea
Only the unlettered are deceived
Yea
The lions rule this kingdom
Yea
The lions don’t eat grass
Yea
And the deer can’t run fast enough
Yea
And the lions must have their meal
Yea
So the herds get eaten young
Yea
And the lion is the king of the grasslands
and then i left the room
it has grown dark in here
amidst the voices raised
and the claims laid out in print
so i stood up and walked
round this table
from behind the man without a face
covered head to toe with red slips
around the man with the briefcase
that landed with force
and a weary face
I walked round the vultures silently
waiting for the carcass
and the hyenas baring their fangs
I took note of the executioner
standing in a corner with a long ax
and a darker cloak
I walked round the table
and wrote the debts out on the wall
one stroke for money in bags
one line for a life
and a dot for a frown or a smile
The walls filled up
with strokes and lines and dots
and the darkness grew in here
and then I left
through the door that remained open
to look at the lone pigeon
standing in the ledge
together we sat on the ledge
pecking away at the scales on our feet
as the sun came out to dry our wings
i grew wings as the dew fled
and filled my lungs with the throbbing rays
and i left with the pigeon
away from the strokes and lines and dots
and the claimants waiting in the dark room.
I left the room
With the pigeon calling his friends from nearby trees
We all saluting the sun
And gulping the fresh air
Free from the debts and claims
In the dark room getting darker.
Tufia !!
What will the diviner say
As the beads he flung on the mat
Slowly climbed over each other
Settling in pattern of foreboding
The black arrayed against the white
The trained eye seeing the evil
Coiled and waiting to spring
What would the elders scream
When the diviner relays his divination
Of the pattern on his mat
And the portents from the gods
The propitiation that has been asked
A head for a head, a soul for a soul?
What would the young shout
When asked for their portion of the sacrifice
A head for a head, a soul for a soul
A sacrifice to propitiate the gods
For the sins of the elders
Who have invited the diviner
Who cast the divination beans?
What would the earth say
When told of the sacrifice
To come from generation to generation
A head for a head, blood left on the tarmac
A soul for a soul, conscience left in the vaults
The diviner afraid of the truth
Elders afraid of their sins?
Tufia !!
the sad old man
Sits by the dying embers
Sadly he inspects the flickers
For clues but finds none
He stirs up the ash
Trying to divine
From the patterns of dust
clues but finds none.
The young man
Slowly grows old
But his corn field
Is barely enough to
Pay for his sweat
And little is left over for his donkey
Though his effort has been
Strung out from day to day
The rich man is dying
On his water bed
But his gold won’t follow him
And the rats and skulls
Now no longer afraid
Are nibbling at his toes
And fitting out his robes
As the night comes to
The eyes that flashed green
The sad old man
Can read how the pebbles fall
And he can see the long queue
Of ghouls demanding settlement
Of blood covered by the rich man’s robe
The spirit of young men denied rest
Some day he will call the young man
And tell him his father was rich
But his oath was bloody.
revenge will come
but not yet.
you would have forgotten
the sin and the fury,
the impunity and the arrogance.
you would have forgotten
the songs we sang,
the songs of liberation,
but we will remind you
revenge will surely come
but not yet.
you know heaven won’t send plagues
to make your skin rot in public
nor impalers in white horses
to flay your flesh on the tarmac
but we will remind you.
revenge will definitely come
but not yet
you will not remember
the bullets you sent us
that pierced the lungs
and spattered the brains.
we will find out
where they came from
before we melt them and hand
to the avengers coming after
but we will remind you.
revenge will meet you
but not yet
enjoy your blood meal today
enjoy your power, today.
you should know
we will dig up your grave
and feed your bones to your children
this revenge will come
but not yet.
bury us today
by the toll gate
or wherever we fell
to the bullets fired into our backs.
don’t leave our entrails
splattered on the tarmac.
bury us today
below the pavement
where we can continue
to sing our songs of hope
and feel the vibration
of a thousand tyres
reminding us you are still there.
bury us today
by the toll gates
beside where the tellers sit
so we can touch
each note and each receipt
and transmit to you
the reason for our death.
bury us today
by the toll gates
where you pass everyday
we too will pay
our ghostly tolls
to the hands that murdered us
and hear the cries that mourned us.
to shoot
to kill
who.gave.the.order
to seize
the breadth
who.gave.the.order
to maim
to murder
who.gave.the.order
to sacrifice
to plunder
who.gave.the.order
to rob
to rape
who.gave.the.order
to stoke
this anger
who.gave.the.order
