By Efe Tokunbo Download
To all wounded wombs and kidnapped princesses,
to all blue princes, either asleep or punk ass bitches,
to all the walking metaphors for the lost,
the living papermen and talking masks,
to all the straw-dogs of shadow-cast gods,
balking at the thought of waking the fuck up,
ask your true self this:
Can you tear your gaze from that most mesmerising of illusions?
Can you live in discordant ecstasy, beyond the staleness of preconceptions?
Our leaders believe themselves smarter than the average bear,
tearing out any throat that stands between themselves and the master’s crumbs,
(don’t feed the animals! They get along better without your help!)
balancing The Man’s books while he poisons the world for profit,
distorting for nefarious purposes the words of prophets,
converting the masses from living beings into puppets,
glorifying and worshiping the ego; bunch of willing muppets.
We have migrated from our souls to our hearts to our brains to our machines
and now we stand at the crossroads, gambling with the very devil.
Who stole our archetypes and replaced them with stereotypes?
Who murdered our ancestors and zombified our descendants?
Who fooled us into believing the hype was the shit?
Who schooled us into the life-style of a damned hypocrite?
The hypocrite is you when you believe yourself apart,
The hypocrite is me when I forget my heart,
The hypocrite dies or humanity dies,
It’s simple mathematics – just ask a herbal healer.
It’s simple mathematics – just ask a herbal healer.
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Efe Tokunbo is a poet lost in Maya. If you see him in the dream, please point him in the direction of the nearest portal. Read more of his words at efeokogu.com
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Special Section: BN Poetry Awards