Walking On Coals by Stefn Sylvester Anyantonwu

Walkin On Coals – by Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu (Pengician)

 

This time I am walkin on coals

Crying out against confusion and crime

I scream against sufferings untold.

I’m walking on coals

Yet things stay same way

Same way twas left yesterday.

And I take a trip to dreamland,

I and likeminds together,

hoping the sun will burn less but tan

hoping to uplift my clan…

I have a plan

But no solution…

More confusion.

 

This time I am walking on coals

Seeking secretely salvation for souls

who behind me are crawling on coals

seeking for freedom

freedom from what?

-Unpleasant past.

-Childhood unknown.

-Futile future to unfold…

Will our dreams ever come true?

Will our turn for fortune ever be due?

Must the goodies of life be for the goose?

Will ever the gander get a piece of the pie?

How long shall we munch cakes in dreams alone?

Clime of crimes…

Terrible trying times…

 

We walk still on coals

Burnt to our soles

Burnt even to our souls.

With bare feet on the ground

Walking same rough road round and around.

Always returning to same ground

from whence we took off…

We sit and search and never stop

hoping to find

solution for the confusion in my time.

I want to know when, where and why

Truth traded truth for lies.

But I cannot condone the cries

of the weak and weary with me behind.

Confusion, deperation and frustration

cover our track.

On crimson sands

are our footprints of black.

Suffering and smiling –

Cosmetically smiling in grin white grin.

Sick and tired, no time to turn back.

 

We are walking on coals

Long is the road

The waether cold.

Our future as ugly as a toad.

With myopic microscopes

we view in black and white

the rich in fanthom luxoury,

the poor the in sweet agony.

Wait!

I wish I were karma

I’ll bring forward the Judgement Day.

But here we must wait and wait and wait

loop on until delay

decides to dig the grave

of our opressors.

Stay strong people, stay strong!

 

Days

Weak weeks

Months

Years,

all pass by as they please.

Earth on it’s ancient axis

spinning like our aching heads…

and round and round and around we go still

Three hundred and sixty degrees

Matching on the spot-

A step forward

Three step backwards…

Progressing in retrogression.

My throat is sour

and up again is the sun

to stare yet again at our plight

with an incurable burning delight,

Whilst we run and walk and crawl

on this road that has no start nor end

on this road that has no turn

on this road that has no point

on this road that has to bend…

Straight from the start,

stretching on as we approach its assumed end.

 

I wish I had taken a look

at the little blue book

Mama read at dawn and noon

I wouldn’t have been on this loop

together with this mixed multitude

of North and South and East and West…

My life was almost a waste.

For now I see with eyes so clear

the reason we suffer so drear.

Together we circled this angry flare

round and around in each leap year.

Seeking solution for our confusion.

Now I know…

God bless my sould…!

I discovered the confusion

is not of our nation.

It is the state of our mind.

You hate the Eastern rising son

who sets peaceably on the West.

Disdain for the turban from the North

who left herbs for herds

to hunt for heads.

But love can exist.

Or can it be?

The truth –

it lives in you and me.

The lies can lie forever six feet

if the country that was and is

is left to be…

and all that walk on coals with me

will on their own state trust

and strip the grin white grin

of its sly Brithish sheen.

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