mercredi 14 avril 2010


By Tikum Mbah Azonga

What a privilege it is
To behold the floating wreckage of the Ancient Mariner
Looking askance as I go in quest of the Golden Fleece
Tears welling up in my tainted eyes like American terror
I see the distant gates of heaven’s uniformism
The loving mum who meant so much to my filament
Now I know I have held sway
I also know I may not be your type of star
But at one point or another, I’ll break the bars
Like the famous bird from Corinth
I’ll in God’s name and mum’s book on the shelf
Cry out: “Lord, in deed you’re God!”

Copyright 2010

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