Biography of Eric Lungai
Am a modern wage labourer who having no means of production of my own, am forced to sell my labour power in order to live.
Eric Lungai Poems
When I Will Sing My Own Song
A time may come when i'll sing my own song, And that time is coming fast. I'll sing my own song, Perhaps a lyrical song coloured with joy,
End Of An Error?
It's end of an error, Err...end of an era: An era of confusion, In an aura of
Thank You Mama
You gave birth to me in kindness Brought me up with happiness And taught me righteousness This is my appreciation Mama,
They Killed A Dream
There was a healthy foetus That yearned to be born. Its life was terminated And a dream was killed
Do I Deserve To Die?
You come to my house at night juddering And lurch onto my door swearing blight With your bilious anger on flight Roaring and ready to rip me apart
Letter To The Unborn
Do not feel the haste to come Oh you, the unborn, the unsinned. Why would you want To come and fight for survival
Song Of A Bored Man
Oh thee living dead who can’t agree to disagree who content with ugly beauty do you never give in hope?
I Wish I Was Born Earlier
I wish I was born earlier, When people were still savages And there was no wave of civilisation. When men were manly,
Forgive Me Love
It's dusk again, And the hearth gone cold; Lifelessness is all round With no cough, even of love
Will I Miss You?
When you say you’re leaving Lying prostrate on your deathbed Do you think I will miss you? When you have scampered me,
Teach me again How to sleep facing the wall, How to put on again, Burdening pyjamas at night;
I'M Always A Friend
Sometimes we've quarrels And seem we never were to meet. We drill and roll in turmoil like baffled barrels, And tear at each other like wild game meat.
I Kissed A Frog
In the night, at the stage, When the daughters of men And the sons of women Paraded their nudity and smashed bottles,
Song Of A Bored Man
Oh thee living dead
who can’t agree to disagree
who content with ugly beauty
do you never give in hope?
oh you despised lovers
children of vipers that bite not
yet inflicts painless pain of slow death
is it time to engage in serene wars?