Henry Akuete: My Poems and some

              THE TRUTH IN THE LIE What begot the demon of change? that dost cause man to molt? and shed skin as time does pass Why do we say today "i love" and on tomorrow's day say "i hate" how does it go to become in time that two fall into each other with love so fiery, gods fall to envy to share the passing wisp of a kiss as it does spark between full lips share the warm embrace between two whose souls will not see parting to know the meaning of a clock's tick For in that instance does love share and send words from blinks of the eye Alas, the sun sets and yet does rise with a new day and new hearts what was becomes no more lovers cry, and yell fire and bile those who loved now turn to hate with torn hair and shattered pottery oiling scars of a victim of loyalty drinking tears, confessed by long songs None is fair in love and so is war All that was, was none but lies Lies of hope and lies of love but in the lies reside an aged truth We are not men; we a

  In past now cloudy to mind's recall ere the swarm of pale faces unbeknownst ere the vile deflowering of alkebulan's rivers ere the rape and pillage of sacred forests children of afruika split four winds with songs storied of a thousand ages maidens of aithiopia undelifed with faces shades akin to tanned ivory would sway to the distant rumblings of ancient drums deep within the stone walls of zimbabwe from the wide shores of the sea of sand to the narrowing of shaka's resting place the sons of nubia would sing from within tales of the hunt; the conjuring of Niger hands of kindred flames, the straight circle of our fathers We were full with veined crimson, in the eyes, soul slept in same womb, same black milk at the pinnacle of the moon's pride did we dance with the cub of the grey lion hayenas laughed, so laughed the children to comic fables from retired breasts In our stomachs, peace; in our hair, pride; the sun crept below to die yet again Lo did they come riding th

From this silent Symphony of violence to wit the beauty of becoming did sprout this chaos did birth the best of man For life did steady play a two-toned tune In dying do we be born yet again And in bleeding do we let life become We may cry and hate all the hatred But man never was a peaceful critter what else do the drunken gods crave If not the crimson music from war's fields the hail and grinding of chariot wheels breaking of bones and knitting of guts In this symphony of grit and strife Dost man make name and eat bread So cry havoc and open the pits of hell For long live death, long live war. - - Henry Akuete