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The unruly singer
uche peter umez
uumezurike@yahoo.com
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
They don’t want me to
sing
my song is taboo
like the cackles of night witch;
They hate me so.
My land loves my
lyrical lips.
I’m the wine
the poor and oppressed sip
and forget
the fits and blows of life,
the burden of suffering;
my people
just love me so!
But They tell me
of a mad man
that laughs at the name of his fathers.
Wielding their
ill-fated power,
I’m chained
in a room of gloom
and shadows;
lips strapped,
pap pushed down my throat;
But I remind Them
of the fabled wind that severs
the hinges of cage,
of the undying echo
that rides above the breast of mountains ––
I cannot be stilled by mortal hands!
See also:
uche peter umez:
We no longer weep
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