precious memories
oh! how they linger toughing my soul...

let me show you my darker side.
Not in a creepy way...

I am another kind of drum, beat me.
Floating about the back waters of this mind...

In a private corner of my garden
Stands a feeding tray...

“ME”//\\ “I”
Call me names if you will...

Un- plugged but totally connected, that is me
Midnight on my clock...

Wrapped up in a white skin!
I am, we are African...

my heart may not have eyes and ears
but that is where I am at...

crestal ball on my table
show me the future in my past...

POVERTY
Sheets of corrugated iron...

There are many powerful men in our land
But they are worthless...

The perverse complexity surrounding Christianity
Turns out to have simple root implications...