For whom the bullet races

 

For whom the bullet races

 I.               childhood dreams

When I was little, like a child I thought

Of palaces and kings and no evil.

A beetle or a kite that I got

Would amaze me - daze me out.

Or a tail-less wriggling lizard that I'd caught

Would sadden me with its distress.

I laughed and cried and soothed

And fought and told mama none of it.

I jumped and fell and, well, all a kid ought

To do.

I did too.

 

Now that 'am grown of stature and nature,

Think of state houses sold to the devil

And am amazed not by official looting

Only gravely saddened, oh, by thieves

Stole from the child his dream, and I scream

and wriggle in the economic grip,

Of a deaf governor with ears only for wealth.

The chaos beg for tears.

 

But I cry not.

I see the night-thief look up at the sun

Unafraid of the sun or day or me

Steal again.

I couldn't laugh.

I see the strangler of childhood dreams

Snatch the dream and waste it

Could I cry?

He begins to steal the future,

Stow it away for his child,

Crumple it into a paper ball

So I don't notice,

But I see.

 

But I am grown of mind and might

And I think of a long barreled gun

And I think of good aim

And I think of old thieves

Of young thieves-to-be.

 

II.             lonely experience

Though my suffering is emminent,

The tenor and tune of it evident,

Do not choke or spill your food-

Or waste a tear, (as if you could).

Never by you have my troubles been eased,

My tenacity's been born and raised

On the fertile garden of your indifference.

Keep your care, I've been taught,

Mark my word and keep reference.

 

I refuse to fit into this fixture

These terms to terminologise my plight.

Am I bound to victimhood by nature?

Which moral judge bars me from this fight?

Is this my brand, my fate ?

Would the world end if I bared my teeth -

Dispatched heavenwards my tormentors forthwith?

Even when I have been taught?

 

I shall not be victimised-

By my sword shall fall him

Whose turn it is to be victim.

I shall not be traumatised-

When I get to direct this gory drama

I will cast another for this trauma.

For I've been taught.

 

III.           Resolve

Verily know thee:

Death shall be served

In a filthy calabash

- you will be a backyard ritual-

Ruined in mid-ceremony.

Before breath is held.

Before time.

 

The sky shall not tear in two

The heat shall not relent

The world will not pause

But you

will pass.

 

Verily know thee-

That yours comes yet,

a date with a bullet:

On an unlikely evening,

an unsuspicious morning;

When impatience snaps like lightening

And, itching with gangrene,

from dark jungle the howls

of injured souls!

 

Verily know thee-

A poisoned tip in revenge steeped!

Fired

Most certainly at the time you pose

in quiet sitting disarmed by family,

in vanity reposed cozily,

besieged by foe:

Death you shall know!

        

So, bar your doors and windows

When you turn in for… who knows!

Turn low that TV set and listen out

In time, I'll be about.

 

IV.           The Promise

Till the day of the bullet

I will be the trouble in your tummy,

this morning the migraine in your mind,

the pain when you pee.

 

I will be the prickly thorn in the hedge

The draught causing your sneeze

the rotten bean baking your wind

the terrible dream ruining your sleep.

Till the day of the bullet.