Promise Land


Rumbles from the sea, the birth of your presense.
Seeking peace with the hearts of lion.
Ye spoke of language percieved to be the god’s.
Bombarding us with salvation
Like we live on pollution.
Funding the trains of brainwashing,
Ye won the hearts of traitors.
Poking us in the eye with civilisation;
As though we lived on non-ethical criuses.
We feared your presence not as savages.
But as children of untainted culture.

Ye called us doomed and ill-brained.
Yet we waved to all ages.
Claiming to be geniouses but have no cure.
The hand of God hails from our land.
Injecting us with curroption, your pledge.
Calling us monkeys, your pleasure.
Yes monkeys we are and a pleasure.
Saddens yet enlightens us
For ye gambles for the monkey’s food.
Garnishing it with lectures.
I ask ye, “who is the monkey”?

Proclaiming treasures and inventions,
Why run from nature?
We never live to see the rise of tides.
But it clothes ye each day.
Our dangers stems from your crafts.
Killing us with your modernity.
As Savages, we taught you civilisation.
As barbarians, we cleansed your naivity.
As monkeys, we made your cities.
As poor, you steal from our cursed lands.
Reeling over our shores.
We are the promised ones.
Africa is the promised land.

The Haymaker © 2014