Whose wages these are I think I know.
Their job is dancing rumba in parliament though
They will not see me stopping here
To watch their wages filling up banks.
My little eyes must think it queer
To look at their wages without permission
Between the honourable and senseless workers
Who make the loudest noise of the year dancing rumba in parliament
Their wages are lovely, plenty and great to be envious
But I have a job to keep before I confront them,
And children to raise before I shout,
And a rent to pay before I scream and get sacked by vultures
Saturday 15 November 2008
Thursday 6 November 2008
A Friend To Remember
Am thankful for losing my memory
Of those days when my friends became my enemies
Am thankful to remember
When a friendship was first made
Am thankful for not remembering
Of the days our friendship was on fire
I am thankful for remembering
Of those days we shared a smile
A smile that was common but rare to be real
Am thankful for losing my memory
When hatred took over what you are
I am thankful to remember
Of the great moments we shared
The fruit of our joy to be joyous
Am thankful for losing my memory
About the arguements and fights we had
I am thankful to remember
The moments we shared together
A thing called life of my life with you
Of our sweet childhood moments
Playing with sand alongside the river banks
In that great Henga valley never to forget
Of those days when my friends became my enemies
Am thankful to remember
When a friendship was first made
Am thankful for not remembering
Of the days our friendship was on fire
I am thankful for remembering
Of those days we shared a smile
A smile that was common but rare to be real
Am thankful for losing my memory
When hatred took over what you are
I am thankful to remember
Of the great moments we shared
The fruit of our joy to be joyous
Am thankful for losing my memory
About the arguements and fights we had
I am thankful to remember
The moments we shared together
A thing called life of my life with you
Of our sweet childhood moments
Playing with sand alongside the river banks
In that great Henga valley never to forget
Monday 3 November 2008
The Cry of Little Children in Nyasaland
O brothers,mothers, fathers and sisters,
Do you hear the cry of little children?
Leaning their young heads against empty stomachs
And they cannot stop their tears flooding Lake Malawi.
And the young souls are glued to bitter sadness
And young tears are gasping for your help
And the young smiles are silently asking for help
And the young saints hope you now have a solution
A solution to stop the tears flowing past Mount Mulanje
A solution to stop young children weeping bitterly
Weeping bitterly when its time to sing and play !
O brothers and sisters , why the little children are tearful?
Why the old man may weep but tears never flood lake malawi?
Why the old man is weeping for his fortunes tomorow not today?
Why little children continue praying for the old man's help?
Why the old man is pleasurily sweeming in the lake with a young wife
Without knowing the lake is incubating the little children tears?
The little children tears that have now flooded the whole lake malawi
I can now understand why tears for the little children have populated Kamuzu Highway
For the old man has hardened his heart like a leafless tree in the forest,
For the old man has become greedy like the old wound becoming sorest
For the old man has swallowed the old hope that is hardest to be digested
To be digested for the young children to eat the gift of the old man's old hope but new
Oh brothers, I will walk over and ask little children stand in the market weeping with empty hands
While the old man is pushing a trolley full of dogs food to please the young wife
The young wife that told him not to mind the little weeping children along the streets
Alas, alas, the weeping children are seeking death than life
Death as best to have than starve and stagger
Like a withered tree, they are burning their hearts away from the world
From the world towards the graveyard where dad is in search of answers.
Answers as to why death means end to that good life and friendship they miss
As they sing out on the graveyard with flowers to get answers
And the litte children go back to roam the streets in tears
When fine answers turn bitter and sour to stop tears flowing in Nyasaland
As I walked over towards the little children in Limbe market,
They looked up to me with their smile tearful and their face sunken in tears
And their hands open waiting for some help like mana from above.
As I stood there, their looks told a story need not tell
For their anguish over the loss of their father presses more questions
Questions as why we seemed to care only when their dad was alive?
Questions as to why the earth loves its own than its neighbours
Questions as to why the grave take the good the giver and leave the greedy, the meaner ?
Questions as to why churches are full but streets populated with oprhans are empty?
Questions like is life outside the earth better and warmer ?
If so I will fly away with these weeping children far away from greedy earth
The earth that minds its own business than the tears of little weeping children
And I will fly away to where they can be accepted and be restfully tearless.
In a land called mercy and joy that the greedy earth had never known
Oh Brothers ! But do we have to fly our little children away
While your feet are still young and your hands long enough
To reach that pocket and open that door wide for the litle children
Oh Open that door even if that hand or door disobeys your heart
The heart that delights seeing Lake Malawi pregnant
With the tears of little children ,helpless weeping on your corridor
If so, we will give grave a rest to save our little children from shedding tears
By the help that never says 'this is for me and my kids only'.
Please go on and disobey that heart that cripples your giving
To wipe off the tears of our little weeping children!!!!
Do you hear the cry of little children?
Leaning their young heads against empty stomachs
And they cannot stop their tears flooding Lake Malawi.
And the young souls are glued to bitter sadness
And young tears are gasping for your help
And the young smiles are silently asking for help
And the young saints hope you now have a solution
A solution to stop the tears flowing past Mount Mulanje
A solution to stop young children weeping bitterly
Weeping bitterly when its time to sing and play !
O brothers and sisters , why the little children are tearful?
Why the old man may weep but tears never flood lake malawi?
Why the old man is weeping for his fortunes tomorow not today?
Why little children continue praying for the old man's help?
Why the old man is pleasurily sweeming in the lake with a young wife
Without knowing the lake is incubating the little children tears?
The little children tears that have now flooded the whole lake malawi
I can now understand why tears for the little children have populated Kamuzu Highway
For the old man has hardened his heart like a leafless tree in the forest,
For the old man has become greedy like the old wound becoming sorest
For the old man has swallowed the old hope that is hardest to be digested
To be digested for the young children to eat the gift of the old man's old hope but new
Oh brothers, I will walk over and ask little children stand in the market weeping with empty hands
While the old man is pushing a trolley full of dogs food to please the young wife
The young wife that told him not to mind the little weeping children along the streets
Alas, alas, the weeping children are seeking death than life
Death as best to have than starve and stagger
Like a withered tree, they are burning their hearts away from the world
From the world towards the graveyard where dad is in search of answers.
Answers as to why death means end to that good life and friendship they miss
As they sing out on the graveyard with flowers to get answers
And the litte children go back to roam the streets in tears
When fine answers turn bitter and sour to stop tears flowing in Nyasaland
As I walked over towards the little children in Limbe market,
They looked up to me with their smile tearful and their face sunken in tears
And their hands open waiting for some help like mana from above.
As I stood there, their looks told a story need not tell
For their anguish over the loss of their father presses more questions
Questions as why we seemed to care only when their dad was alive?
Questions as to why the earth loves its own than its neighbours
Questions as to why the grave take the good the giver and leave the greedy, the meaner ?
Questions as to why churches are full but streets populated with oprhans are empty?
Questions like is life outside the earth better and warmer ?
If so I will fly away with these weeping children far away from greedy earth
The earth that minds its own business than the tears of little weeping children
And I will fly away to where they can be accepted and be restfully tearless.
In a land called mercy and joy that the greedy earth had never known
Oh Brothers ! But do we have to fly our little children away
While your feet are still young and your hands long enough
To reach that pocket and open that door wide for the litle children
Oh Open that door even if that hand or door disobeys your heart
The heart that delights seeing Lake Malawi pregnant
With the tears of little children ,helpless weeping on your corridor
If so, we will give grave a rest to save our little children from shedding tears
By the help that never says 'this is for me and my kids only'.
Please go on and disobey that heart that cripples your giving
To wipe off the tears of our little weeping children!!!!
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