Philosopher's Pen

Dad is the darkness in my skin sin Is this blackness a curse on me or a blessing Dad will black men be in heaven, will our fore fathers who could call the rain be somewhere in the sky Or will they die with the prophecy of metal snake and butterflies We're black men corrupt, was this imported or is this a capitalistic disease Is poverty the real nature of Africa or we forgot our God and His teachings Were orphans in Africa poor and homeless or was this a monogamous disease Were black children father and mother less or is this a modernization disease Were black people foolish to organize their society in a way every elder was a minister We're black people stupid to say that there is a God and he blesses with the morning sun Were black men backward to preserve their race with herbs Were black men without God or did God make a mistake me black Was Jesus important because of the color of his skin or depth of his teaching For sure God is not a racist or heaven would be sc

Lost within and to my self How does one find the way to her purpose How does she get to be sure that it is her reason for being alive For sure being alive is not enough Having it all is not enough either What suffices her soul is altogether a mystery Whatever the path to self-identity something always seems to be missing There is always a longing that seems far from being sate This longing that somehow makes humans feel alive This emptiness that satisfies the pleasure and pain principle

All life that matters is lived on earth, The rest, even afterlife, is a consequence of how well you lived All life that matter is lived today Tomorrow is a ghost of this day All that matters is not how good or bad you are The matter is that you are in terms with your action and your being The music of your soul and the dong of your knell are in harmony  And that you live not regretting a choice

The light burns black or white Whatever it is that makes you see But one day the night shall come It is always an abitrary time Before 3pm comes and to God you commit your soul Remember the greatest responsibility you have is to live the way you wish the world would Shine your own light and let be

He sat in silence Holding his knees terrified Terrified of nothing more than his mind Restless amid cute smiles Looking at the brink wondering how deep six feet is If one day a slip or a little push would make him tip He wished he could let people know but he was fearful they would laugh He wanted the world to know that if he dived and took the final fall It was not the fault of anyone That he was unwell and the day came The day he finally swang with his chariot home Chariots that were always too close for his liking

Love is perfect It can never sin It can never hold sin

One day I may die for no reason, nothing in particular My little one don't judge me when I no longer feel strong enough to hold a brave face When no one can see it but the weight I carry breaks me down Little one don't be embarrassed when what I could let go swallows me up And I sink to the bottom of lifelessness  My little one I want you to be proud of me When this cancer takes me home and I can no longer sing you a song Baby I love you don't think I loved to abandon you It is only that I am sick and no one should know So when my sickness overwhelms me and I choose to dive into afterlife head first Love me like you loved me yesterday, tell Mama to sing to you the songs I sung When I fall off the tree of life, do not cut me off the family tree  Remember that I brought you forth to shine brighter I pray you be kept away from all my illness by Sana Let life protect you and keep you shining like pure light Let love and life reflect on you the true meaning of humani

Unless Father himself rolls the scroll We will survive to survive another disaster We will be ready but never ready enough We will survive because that is how Father made us To survive We will live beyond the plague We will care deeply until we seem not to care We will strive to survive until we survive Unless Father himself rolls the scroll Whether our Kings are bought to sell us And our chiefs enslave and become Kings and chiefs without men, we will live to live our lives out We may have forgotten how we called God But our creator did not forget how and why we are called For a reason he made the Earth look least important in the eyes of men And gold, diamond and all sorts of stones to be called precious Yet what people called dirt held their feet, fed them and their children What seems of least value will always prove to have the greatest value My son do not forget that the many stories we write is a single story The many biographies consolidate to one tale of human survival and deat