Sunday, November 28, 2010

INFATUATION

I didn't ask for that or bask in it
Just fell in it and now tell a bit
In a crowded room radiated her smile
I saw and sawed in cruel edits of my bile
How could I crave emotion in places strange
And fixed in me feelings that frankly derange

Yet see her face fused in mind I did
Yes my heart pounding beats made a bid
As I told and tried to hold my feelings in check
That I'm my ship captain slouching on deck
That ship may sink if I do, flounder if I didn't
So I looked, liked and loved but still didn't

Loving a stranger is strangest to the stranger
New to the holder but known to be the danger
The danger of free soul in sole solidarity
Solidly reciting an unwritten cordiality
Trusting truthfully that it shall sell to soul
Transcend strange barriers but still be whole

The stranger smiled back as I stared aback
Unbeknown to me was the charm on track
The disbelief that I could expressly impress
In what if wrongly received could depress
Yet I won the heart of the stranger
And my love plane was in safe hangar

Then it all dissipated
Totally unanticipated
It didn't return
I didn't pretend
It was just so gone
Before it was borne

I knew then that loving a stranger
Is loving a miss that spells hunger
A hunger for societal hugs and embraces
That on self x-ray show no firm traces
Best then is to make strangers familiar
Then you can love that which is similar.

By Andrew Sesinyi
November 27, 2010

AFRICA AND THE AFRICANS

I toured the contours of mother Africa cruising on roller skates
I rolled and skated through the deprivations of owed rebates
For Africa, I gave and braved but I'm somewhat still so desolate
I'm disconsolate because my dues are cloned in concepts obsolete
I drank the nectar of culture but got drunk on the fudge of stagnation
I cushioned myself in the wealth of history that hid not my indignation
I savoured the pride of blackness but got lost in the mystery of whys!
Why I ought to like and love, laugh and laud and live in the shifty whiles!
I saw the flora and fauna and floundered in the convolutions of reason
Reason in questions lost in the logic of defending the sanctity of treason
Treason that I was betrayed, derailed and nailed to the faulty defences
That the African fault falls in the ambit of foreign crafted deeds and fences.

I'm weary of denial, wary of drones of justifications for the African mystification
I've travelled the long dusty and pot-holed roads of Africa without satisfaction
Satisfaction that I have facts to demystify the fiction that bonds me to mysticism
The mysticism of enveloping Africa's Africans in the ambience of shifting latitudes
Hearing day in and day out from country to country repeated vocabulary of platitudes
Cliches of why I can't feed me, be me, where I am, without seeking fortune elsewhere.
That when even fortunes of foreign latitudes give me harvest, I remain nowhere.
Nowhere to be someone or to be somewhere except to be perpertually there.
I've heard the mysteries of why I'm part of the diaspora that for most races is temporary.
Why my wants remain needs my gains are no bargains and I'm never a contemporary.
I'm weary of Mother Africa whose shrivelled breasts have no teats to feed me.
For the rape and plunder of Mother Africa is the curse that won't let me be.

Desolate and disconsolate as I am though, deepest in me is the new awakening
The sense that sooner than later new generations will breed the time of reckoning
Time when the pounding problems of a throbbing heart in want shall find recourse
That time comes with honesty to self and candour to the multitudes in discourse
To face up to the fact that Africa Africanised itself into the continental darkness
That if our best see solace in the diaspora, even our sun shall lose its sharpness
I'm confident that mirrored mentors of bloated egos will see terminal oblivion
As surely the youth and its generation determine destiny in their own volition
The tenure of adults of coated cultures feeding their own ambitions shall terminate
New generations shall sprout like petals of roses and new seeds germinate
False prophets of today shall soon sing in discorded tunes and tones shall be dulled
Time will dawn when deliveries are tangible and voices heard instead of just lulled.

Africa hurts because I hate to take to heart that which perpertually produces pain
It so hurts because its problems are probed by protagonists without a truth grain
There is no chapter in the book of Africa that bears objective sights on legitimacy
Fact is pirated by polluted philosophies and logic plundered with sustained obstinacy
When confronted by reasonable fresh sprouts, the African mentor bellows culture
That subdues the loud tunes that would otherwise kill the voracious vulture
Yet I know as I bow to time that the light of the new dawn is filtering through
A ship of time is sailing closer to the harbour commanded by an enlightened crew
Fewer than before are Africans that still lap up the slop of the fake demagogue
False prophets and akin agitators shall soon face the real masters of rousing dialogue
When that happens the truth shall point with clinical accuracy to actual realities
Pretext shall dissolve, denial will recede and evaporate to make room for actualities.

By Andrew Sesinyi
27th November, 2010.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

POVERTY ERADICATION

I heard warm words worming into my ear
Words I long feared I might never hear
Pronouncing the divorce and marriage of poverty
Alleviation goes and eradication gets gravity
For once I cheered and not sneered
Alleviation is frivolity, eradication revered
For once my mind mined real carats of gold
For words like written works are best when in bold
Why lessen poverty when it's  invented evil
For good war is waged on the puganacious devil

I distrust my raved nerves wrecked by past noughts
Will it be that actions shall merrily marry thoughts
That the cult of embracing poverty shall face peril
That eradication shall put poverty to base zero level.
Words that rear misty fortunes curse the victims
So I pray and hope that the poor shall reap pickings
That politics shall not be prolific downpours of despair
For it's rare but feasible for politics to do, undo and repair
Should such fortune visit our weary wants of true equity
It would be a first for fast darkening days of real equality

I urge the makers of the dreams and architects of such hope
To build titanics of bricks that build and not melt into soap
I caution the artists that drew these noble maps of pious promise!
Failure to deliver would be cesspits of precious dreams in demise
I pray that in these salubrious pledges and sermons of quality life
That the ships of war against poverty dont carry arsenals of strife
For if in promises of killing poverty,  porous expectations are built
Rains shall fall not to quench but to flood life itself closest to final halt!
Still, my words of hope are prayers for the sayers and the doers for all.
That hold firmly the hilt of chivalrous swords and lead us not to fall.


By Andrew O. Sesinyi
November 27, 2010

Saturday, November 13, 2010

RAINING MISSES

I miss the rain that wets my brain
I have the brain that rains in vain
But sane is the brain that reminisces
For time steals the best of life misses
Like thinking of rain in a leaky hut
Feeling seething emotions in the heart
Remembering a path you tread no more
Reminiscing about the joys now sore
Nostalgic!
Apologetic!
Regretful!
Remorseful!

I miss the rain that made me jump
Collected memories now in a dump
I miss the rain that wets only the body
Somethings gone that dampen me moody.
Where in the silence of time is my rain
The summer green that brought crop gain
I miss the plough and the spanned beasts
The innocence now lost in shrunken breasts
I miss the crack of nuts and the chewing chatter
I miss the greenery of harvested worms
The hissing fires that roasted the worms.
Sunrises missed!
Sunsets missed!
Smells lost!
Tastes lost!

I miss the cow trail and the ubiquitous dung
I miss the breeze and wild fruits that hung
The hills that echoed and bushes that fed
I miss the guardians that mentored and led
I curse the now that colours pretext gold
The present that spells greed in deep bold
I hate the now that speaks in forked tongues
The hand shakers that wish they had tongs
Bounty abandoned!
Greed now adorned!
Loves discarded!
Hatreds regarded!

By Andrew Onalenna Sesinyi
Novemver 13, 2010