Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
He used to smile delusive smile
Teaming with fictive socialism Spreaded on either sides of his Piece of rotted bread
He worried not about capitalists and Their capitalistic modes,
Ladened with human exploitation.
It was the way it was
That black and white lived a Leechlike life
Like the cattle egret on the back of A maimed black bull.
Father smiled but with mediety Smile
His feelings trapped in great silence And suffered most from this Pandemic
Of being lulled to scrap his own kind,
To forget of songs of self freedom,
He plied hard of cause,
And took Home a staggering Reward
Though slim but only favourable to The market.
Unlike this extremely new and lnexperienced capitalistic epoch,
Father has never smiled or become Socialistic,
He invariably takes a meaningless Walk uphill
And clumbers until he gets aloft the Mountain to moderate,
There with an eagle eye
Skims everywhere for a political snoop
Before he could open to laugh and Remonstrate
Then he sings freedom songs in the Absence of other men,
He could laugh at the baseless Doctrines
That lie suspended in the vaccum Of stupid progress.
I remember his deplorable stories when a race used to sing,
Songs of Black man redemption,
Of rise Africa from the bottommost Pit of age old human thralldom,
And said that was buried
Many many Years back.
He never cease to tear and remorse, But inside himself as he descent Limping in his thoughts–
Now father continues to beat the Tom Tom beseeching for black Emancipation,
In this neo black capitalism and Exploitation,
Where black swayers shamelessly Furt In the innocent face of the Blameless Landmass!
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