Poetry

September 15, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Avel Chuklanov photo

 

By

Amara Sesay

 

 

Our Civilized Ones

 

 

Our civilized ones are those

Are those who eat and throw

While mankind twists in violent hunger

 

Our civilized ones are those

Who wear silk and gold

And recommend naked fashion for the wretched of this world

 

Our civilized ones are those

Who live in a certain regions of the earth

In bricks and glass competing for the sky’s attention

Appreciating the beauty of mud-and-thatch culture

 

Our civilized ones are those who

Give loan to buy nightfall

And they dread daylight in the billion regions of the earth

 

Our civilized one are those who

Explain the purpose of technology

Yet refuse to use the knowledge of science

To prove me wrong that I was created for a purpose

 

Our civilized ones are those

Who worship the sun and

Adhere to the revelation of the eyes

 

Our civilized ones are those with tongues harvesting tons of

Gossip and slander and cheap lies about faraway civilizations

While they reside in plantations of evil

Plantations watered by hands whose cold lives no longer matter

 

Our civilized ones are those

Who nourish the market with blood

And cry lies to the sweat of mankind

Buying their blood and flesh at the stock exchange

And think that money is the antidote for death

 

Our civilized ones are those who distract

Us with a noisy education

In schools on air and online and every pore of technology

Turning our bodies into graveyards of

Denied Creativity and Identity

 

Our civilized ones are those who

Entertain us with music and wine

And give us kudos for being sluts and studs

 

Civilized masters are very proud of us

The take pride in our status quo

And they strive to preserve rosy civilization

With accusations that suit them most

And weapons that they have made

Unlawful for others….

…Weapons they sold, refugees they drove…

 

All hail our leaders!!!!

They are the leaders

They are the teachers

They are our civilized ones!

 

 

 

 

The Narrative

 

 

the narrative began as a boy

who could pierce through this

fierce darkness to catch

the deeming rainbow

 

the narrative became a hurricane

exposing a boy to the thighs of lack

smashing the brain of joy

against the iron wall of vulnerability…

 

The narrative was you

When you forgot your name

And bandaged the wounded courage

Gifted by the womb of failure

 

The narrative turned

I….me…myself

When the cold hands of

Fear…Then I died.

That was the death

Of might etched within

The rocky wells of prestige

 

 

 

 

 

Amara Sesay

Amara Sesay is a Sierra Leonean writer, journalist and consultant. He is basically a non fiction writer on loan to Poetry. Outside the world of writing, he is an education activist an innovator whose works earned him a place in the shortlist of United Nations Development Programme (Sierra Leone) shortlist of Youth Innovation Award 2016. He is currently a Fellow at Ebedi International Writers Residency in Nigeria.

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