By
Bismark Amoah
Fall of Mumbai
hail the great Mumbai
the country’s chronic tree
the only breath of all people
mumbai was the greatest among
among all other cities
that only existed in our psyche
but never lasted for long.
Mumbai was the perfect epitome of peace
Mumbai was every envious enemy’s desire
But Mumbai once stood fortified
fortified within a fortnight
once came a chronologically profound prophesy
that sprung from the ores
of the deepest depth.
watch, be thou warned
you souls of of the great Mumbai
lest you sublime.
You shall rise and fall.
Fall within thy prime
and never to rise again.
But the great Mumbai trust too much
and Mumbai trusted all friends
out of her trust
her many friends destroyed her.
Who are the friends of the great Mumbai?
They are those refugees we saved,
the allies we loved before time,
the fragile families we fed,
the non-entities we protected.
where are the friends of the great Mumbai?
The friends of the great Mumbai
crawled to the city
and left us on wheel.
they conspired their secret scheme
behind the scene and stabbed
the great Mumbai in her hollow heart.
where is the great Mumbai?
the memories of the great Mumbai
were the debris the wind
blew slowly and far away.
the great Mumbai had no good friend
to vouch for survival.
my poem your poem
this is my poem
this is also your poem
it’s about us
it tells our story
it reveals our legacy
and condemns our fallacy.
this poem was meaningless
but meaningful in my mind.
it’s like the tale
that never fades.
this poem never fails
to reveal our fates
this poem is about mother Africa
it concerns our continent
this poem is a satire
burnt in the ores of fire
this poem was told
to yesterday, today and tomorrows generation
this poem is like the black ship
I saw yesterday
sailing shabbily across the sea
with a deteriorating smile
this poem shall reveal yesterday’s struggle
the struggle by our forefathers
those priced out of their conscience.
considering their wrinkles
they were alive from ancient time
who never did a single smuggle.
this poem is not meant for me
it’s not meant for you only.
it’s not meant to be read
it’s not meant to be sung
it was not written for this age
the age of corrupt men
this poem reveals
the love of Africa
that goes beyond
the Africa horizon.
this poem shall create rage
that can never be tamed
in my condemn cage
this poem is you and I
and all black people
who love Africa.
Africa is none but you.
The black lyrics
I am the mother Africa.
I possess every wealth
but I lack all things.
I am called the wealthiest slave.
For little do I reason
little did I know my exploits
this was the alpha of thy pain.
My son;
heed to my call
for thy enemy dwells with thee.
Slowly it signaled
like the sounds at the stream.
They crawled to me
with message of bliss
preaching peace like pagans
that soothe thee to sleep
and drained me of my dream.
Africa dropped all her wares
into that white basket
the perfect epitome of diabolism
that promised paradigm
in reverse order of priority.
Catastrophe wrapped her arm
over the land I inherited
and left thee to nothingness.
Mother Africa wept
like never before.
The spirit of Africa
faints to the grave
when I blindly traded all
my precious pride for pleasure.
I cried for help
but the gods answered not.
My kings and queens,
princes and princesses,
dignitaries in a foreign land
with no sense of dignity.
A place, where time ceases,
a place of no return,
a place where my kings become
a mere slave to commoners.
where Negroes are tortured
and tormented like termites.
They call it “home”
Negroes call it “lion’s den”.
where the black man struggled
to become emaciated and primarily
drenched to a state of hopelessness.
There, where we were kept abase
and bound in chains,
yet we were responsible slaves
who toiled all day
for thy cruel Machiavellian master.
and here I am;
an empty and dirty being
with filthy and lengthy speech.
Till we fought for freedom
from our feeble foes
until we voiced out
and said “yes we can”.
Extraordinary words from a beautiful soul who has most likely been here before. So inspiring. I so enjoyed reading your poetry Bismarck...
Extraordinary words from a beautiful soul who has most likely been here before.