Once upon a time
A pencil was to the Griot
As a sword was to the soldier
As he scribbled truth in patterns of petals
To stab the jackboot like a thousand daggers
How can you be so treacherous?
And make us forget the roots and rules
Of what we have come to know as poetry.
All of a sudden, our art became a mime
For scruffy spoilt kids with words that riot
Compositions worthy to be charged of murder
The pencil made way to things made from alloys of metals
We listened because we had no choice like beggars
To incoherent literature that would have made Milton leprous
The jackboot has turned you and your people into tools
To shatter poetry like a piece of pottery.
Blaqknyght's 