The Drums

Can you hear them?
I hear the drums
I hear the drums
The beat
The tempo
The rhythm
The vibrations
I hear the drums
As they serenade my soul
And a silhouette they perform in my consciousness
I hear the drums
The tap
The knock
The swish
The swap
I hear the drums
Through them the voice of the ancestors speaks
As running feet carry the message from this corner to the next
I hear the drums
As I see the perplexed looks on your faces
You don’t hear what I hear
I hear the drums
If you listen more attentively you too will hear
The melodious connotations of the drums.

Footprints

I was told to put my best foot forward,
I did the opposite.
In order to do as i was told,
I had to reevaluate the past like the Sankofa bird.
The solution to the future lies there,
Though harsh.
Imagine not having clothes on our backs,
And by the crack of the whip,
We had to work from dawn till dusk,
Little to eat just enough to keep our stomachs warm.
Scars decorating our bodies,
Each exquisitely carved like fine art,
Polished and shined in blood.
With all the odds against them,
They proudly and boldly smile,
Giving praises all the time.
They,
My,
Our ancestors endured so much for us,
To be free,
To be independent,
To be emancipated from mental slavery.
Instead materialism as gotten us going crazy,
Greed as taken its toll,
Having us purchasing our shackles and chains at the stores.
Blind sighted by the lies,
Like a crack fiend,
We want more.
This generation is lost,
Not even a sign of promise that we will find our way.
We line up for a few measly pairs of Jordans and iPhones,
Plugged into the matrix that’s eating our souls.
Undernourished brains,
Stimulated by fabricated nourishment.
Addicted to taking selfies,
Being Facebook famous is our only goal,
Still we can’t organise to take back our thrones,
Kings and queens we were back home.
And still some wonder why I reminisce,
Filled with nostalgia for our humble beginnings,
While surrounded by earthly riches
And all the silver & gold,
That can be found in Rome.