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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