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North African English teachers
Are so rare in Peru;
However, I was sent right there
By the Erasmus - EU.

My adventures didn't even start
When I felt strong unease;
As if I was followed by some,
Some dark and unseen breeze.

My first day was ruined by a bite
Happened in the toilet;
I saw a shade in the mirror,
Then, some tooth and eyelet.


On my first day I got injured
That was badly enough;
However, the first day kept me
A night just alike tough.

Knock-knock-knock I heard on my door,
The darkness was shallow;
Knock-knock without answer,
My guest was Diablo.

I'd been never superstitious,
Though, I believed in Jinns;
Just as I was a believer
Of many other things.


Knock-knock-knock - for a hundred times,
As if my head was' door;
My fear' fulfilled with angriness,
I faced the corridor.

I got the door slowly ajar,
A black claw might me seize;
I snapped its hand and bring Quran,
"It's time to Exorcise!"

The demon tore the door crying,
Of Quranic verses;
The North African welcoming
Has no demon versus.
Seema Sep 2017
Creeping vines tangle on my legs
Dragging me away in the thorn bushes
I scream, I shout for help I beg
No one to hear, as my head rushes
****** and twigs patch up the cracks on my body
The place I am breathing, I see nobody
A craft art of black magic I sense strong
My path was blurring, then everything went wrong
What I do now, to overcome this dread
Already damaged body, I feel I am dead
Lord of light, the true one help me guide
Losen these vines, to your righteous word, I abide
A struggle of little, I'm off the vines
Trying to run, where the light shines
Taken back to the same path, where it all started
How my friends and I got parted
A dream of such is hard to forget
A friend I've lost...that was my only regret...

John-Chris Ward Dec 2016
Page after page,
Decade through decade
Of knowledge;
Bred into me braid after braid.
Bought and paid through the slave trade;
Taught to me by Kings and Queens,
Overworked and under praised,
My God given name.
I would be insane to be ashamed
Of the gift they gave,
Generations of inspiration,
Weak in the knees I breathe admiration;
I didn't have to beg or plead,
Given to me for free
Sweet salvation.
This is to me what it means to be black. I haven't always been so proud of my african roots. Some people made me feel if I were not apart of the culture; but it is strong in my blood. I've found new pride in my lineage. I am who I am, because they are. I'm so thankful and overwhelmed with massive gratitude. The songster, poet, preformer, personality all that I am is because of those before me; my friends and family.

— The End —