I cry very hard every night
For the land of my forefathers.
Once called Africa's golden child
Woe unto them that hurt you.
Like a child gunned down,
Somebody shot you in your prime
Your soul cries out for help
Purging the nectar of hate
Joggling the sack of opportunity
Looted out by pseudo politicians
And devoured by corrupt wolves
Who talks as revolutionaries
Paid with very huge salaries.
Hungry kids with sad eyes
Eyes stained with tears line
tears lines that know no tears.
Dried lips and Weak bodies
That can't stand neither walk.
Even if the did, where will they walk?
For the roads are now no more,
Washed away by corrupt erosion.
Ills of yesterday, void of compassion.
Look beyond everything, see the poor
Stuck in the black muddy ponds.
Those real victims of poverty, poverty
Tattooed on the souls of the poor.
Poor people who went en-mass
To the ballot boxes and voted,
For a change that's yet to come.
Waiting From the mangrove swamps
Squinting from the shines of the elite,
Dwarfed by brand new mansions
Gift from the country giant to himself. I'll pray every day for the masses,
Wishing the real Massiah would come.


IB-Poetry©
26/11/2018

How many poems have we written,
How many more will we write?
How many matches have we stricken,
How many more will we strike?

How many candles have we burned
In search of knowledge and wisdom?
How much in total have we learned
Do accused poets deserve freedom?

How many words have we really used
How many letters have we composed
How many plagiarists have been sued
How many of us have been accused

From other poets and other writers,
How many lines have we ever stolen?
Why are poets such horrible liars,
When last was this secret rule broken?

©IvanBrooksPoetry
15/10/2018

When the land is arid
and the ponds are dried up,
Dying frogs find moisture.
They hop from place to place.
Cocooned in comfort,
We wine and dine.
Indifferent to the pains
And the suffering of the poor frogs.
Fun times for human!
One day mother nature strikes,
The opposite happens
and humans are drowning...
Humans begin to struggle and clamore
Dying by the thousands.
Frogs watch us floating bye
Fun times for frogs!

©IvanBrooksPoetry
15/10/3918

You can't silence the church's bell,
So, a poet can't be silenced, never!
He was born with deep stories to tell.
Even after life, his words are forever!

You can stop the flow of the Nile
Therefore you can't alter its direction.
Like tempering with Monalisa's smile,
call it an affront and abomination!

You can't tell the tales of the pyramid
Therefore you can't decipher Egypt.
Like the ocean and the mermaid,
It's a wildcard and mysterious script!

You can't see the end of the universe
Therefore you can't fully fathom it.
It's infinite, deep and immense,
That's why there's always a star to spit.

IB-poetry©
10/10/2018