Africa bleeds,
through my skin,
like a veil onto my face,
placing features,
in their place.
Briton spits,
through thick lips,
rolling tongue,
thick accent.
Ghana cries,
through dark eyes,
the lack of light,
does it reside inside?
Nigeria, alone,
sits upright on her throne,
watches me silently,
as I come into my own.
London ignores,
thoughts, a bore,
shut the door,
complete your chores.
Accra speaks Twi,
I stare blankly,
I don’t understand you,
you don’t understand me.
Walthamstow yells,
many houses on sale,
I can’t afford,
nothing to sell.
Lagos eats,
screams “Have a seat!
Enjoy the city,
the, busy streets!”
Kumasi sleeps,
inside she weeps,
tears track her cheeks,
like tears through sheets.
Leytonstone drools,
she wants me, all,
to be myself,
and act the fool.
Ada stays shy,
surveillance, standby,
watching every move,
a chime in her eye.
Leyton sits sweet,
we rarely meet,
she’s my passage to Newham,
her presence brings peace.
Fante hangs head,
a head full of lead,
never to look up,
so bows shamefully instead.
Stratford stands cool,
it’s residents cruel,
you take it in, all,
it’s fascinating, an enthral.
Ashanti sits tight,
she’s got you through these nights,
hopes to get you much further,
bringing you gold, bringing you light.
Now Norwich is a test,
the bird has fled the nest,
so keep your faith in God,
and hope for the very best.
