Souls born precious as gold
Undoubtedly trusted
Growing nagging young and rusted
Forgetting they once were old
Think even advise will soon be sold.
We are all somewhat gone
Past virtuous innocence
In the name of renaissance
To being like abandoned carcass
Stuck in the quag of raucous
In the tombs of the dead
Where our conviction's never fed.
Like an extinct bird's inspirational song
Magnanimity hasn't visited for quite so long
We're lured to believe we are different
And that's what makes us the same
In one hell of a game
Yet not all our rules are the same
A Universe of Basilicans
Without a single-hearted preacher
A willing class of sophomores
Sadly in search of a Teacher  
Do we need to embrace even the strange
In the ****** name of change?
Or just follow prints of our forefathers
And soar with the old ostrich feathers?
Ain't no vanquisher without intentions
They say but some intentions are good
I might sound a little shroud or rude
Talk of my thoughts and questions
But from the look of every nation
Reflects a birth in a wrong generation
Remember when the world was "world"
Without boundaries of first or third?
Does thinking about it make you this sad?

I want to trend
Not in modern but in the good ancient my friend
I want a candle; candles up an earthen chandelier
I'm tired of the tick tack of the modern switch
I want the moon and stars like life was earlier
I'm done with bulbs which when old start to twitch
I want a type writer to capture what I write in my book
I'm tired of computers where all I do's Facebook
I want to revert to the quiet life of my ancestors
I want the warmth of watching the stars
I want to eat beef steamed in Earthenware
Beef with the touch of smoke and of love and care
I'm tired of the modern meat whose source is never clear
I want a meal served hot on her knees complemented by millet beer
I want a home, a real home with an artful grass thatched house
A traditional home with a hound for me and a cat in case of any Mouse
I'm fed up of the modern roofs which roast as if we're pork
I want an affair that's free of silly social media talk
I want a place she and I can have peaceful evening walks
And her eyes not having to watch out for cars
I want someone simple enough to pride in her scars
Open and proud of her weaknesses,one laughter sincerely chokes
I want someone whose thighs will be warm hidden
Someone who won't dare do the forbidden
Not one who'll go at dusk and return at dawn
I want not a queen for that will make me her pawn
Someone who'll give me a massage,not send me to the parlors
One who's content and natural, not painted in colors
Who’ll together with me do laundry, not a laundry machine
I want someone who'll be contented with the little beard on my chin
I want a life like that of my grand father
Small family, moderate success, a wife who isn't a bother
I want a simple life that will give even my enemies peace
I want Africa; I want a bit of my heritage, just a piece
I want that life frozen in sphinx and sculpture
I want to busk in the glory of African culture

"It's not proper poetry if it doesn't rhyme"
*******.