Pain and Gain

Posted: February 28, 2014 in poetry


Sacred seats of diplomats I sit

Head to head we discuss issues

This is no dream take your seat

Great eight meeting pressing issues

The sky is a small container

Sweet sweat notes to be kept

This success can no one alter

Even when life goes it is left

Oh! I can remember those days

The fight between the soil and my hoe

Barefooted boy since the great conversion days

Talk about class I am low

Days under the great glowing sun

Bank of water falling from my body

Heat hitting no respect even to burn

This is neither tragedy nor comedy

This round black part of me Negro

Empty for days without solid substance

Rare resolution it is up I go

I know I’ll stand a chance

My wars of yesterday am  done with

The fallen enemies shall stay dead

Hunger and poverty out of breath

Now in peace I lie on my bed


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