Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!


Who are ye the face I see, be you good or evil. Alas come forth and stand.
Take not the time to point thy finger, throw no stone and hide thy hand.
Bring not excuses reasoning or blame, lend not credit to the world's blight.
Yearn not for eyes of pity; leave thy fears as the daytime yields for the night.

Go not into tomorrow while today is incomplete; linger in thy winsome abyss.
Gather thy regrets in the harvest; cast them out in time like the oceans mist.
Embrace thy moments and dance with thy shadow on the plateau of memories.
Say not that ye tire, let thy sweat flow like the rivers to the seas.

Claim thy fate; let thy tears dry swiftly in the desert of thoughts of what once mattered.
Least ye forget the ruins of the hopes and dreams once treasured now shattered.
Search thy past for a time of innocence, when prayers were answered as you believed.
Will thy strength's presence from deep spaces where might is conceived.

Place thy faith in cauldrons of promise; bite thy tongue if falsehood is a bitter taste.
Bellow for the howling harness of restraint; leave thy envy and arrogance to waste.
Swallow true lies; consume ye rumors, unleash thy jackal heart with game hunting.
Measure thy hopeless existence that ye now know needs confronting.

Forsake thy desired dogmatic ideals; reveal thy hungry thirst while blossoms whether.
Return while thy exit calls, choose not to tread yonder or thither.
Summon thy fading resolve; bleed thy lamb that's fit for sacrificial trade.
Offer thy heart felt contempt through thy murderous and emotional parade.

Conquer countless captive realms, as laughing faces of horror beckons thy silent pulse.
Thy redeemer seals thy doom, eager the reaper smiles, as judgment is ever close.
Raise cup in celebrated victory that's weakened by telltale signs that leads to crossroads.
The face thy see is thee; now eat the fruit grown for the seeds that ye sowed.

Written by John A. Smith


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge