Kh Of Ophir Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

I had since,
Stick around this passage,
Through which history and racism voyage,
By horses and camels,
Carrying sacks satiated
With grains of termiteous words,
Sown on the soil of our lowly ears,
They millipedely grew taller
And trimmed down our sidney-bluegumy shoulder,
Off the great deeds of our extinct brothers.

I had since,
Stick around this passage,
To see new coons evolved from extant apes;
But the chimpanzees, the gorillas,
Hosted in an aphotic menagerie
Do live and live, long and die
Ephphatha! Ephphatha! eyes of ours
Be ye washed off the blinder
Ephphatha! Ephphatha! ears of ours
Be ye pulled off the padding lies
Which had you hypnotized
Blacks were apes what a lie,
Am bold to say a white lie
What a lie, what a lie,
Please pass it not to a black child.

Dwellers of an aphotic plot
Free from snow and horror
Whose sons and daughters
Niece, nephews and kinfolks
Long ago across the shore were sold
Still cede to the white mayhem,
Eroding our yet to be healed head.
Move now your lips and tell me
When with the wind's beak
Did your ears meet,
An old chestnut of a gray-hair woman,
Whose eyes agape on your palm map,
And affirmed there is no route to value?
Yet you sap air when your eyes plunge,
At the tokens of your past on gods
But you say; a black craft a mediocre,
And so, cold wedded our widowed art,
'Fore she went 'way with the scimitar cat.

But touch now your murky palm, and remember,
How it gladdens your tongue with abacha,
Touch now your murky palm, and remember,
How it massages your throat with Amala
Can a white palm prepare owho
Can a white palm prepare edikankor
Can a white palm prepare Isiewu
Or can a white palm prepare fufu

Touch now your murky palm and remember,
The grandeur of nok culture;
The Nok terracotta, Nok sculpture
The statue of queen Idia,
Touch now your murky palm and remember
The hand weavings, and the babbanriga
Antique baskets, beads and jewellery
To somber textiles and ceramics.

Touch now your murky palm, and remember,
The gone David of Africa,
Who put the Goliathic apartheid to slumber,
Touch now your murky palm, and remember,
The black bare hands,
That rescued our freedom,
From the paws of white hawks and beers,

O Spirits of Africa,
You sons of Africa
O souls of Africa
You daughters of Africa

Is time you looked
Deep into your palm once more,
And assert you can see the magic.
You are the rising sun
Rise! Rise! Rise Africa
Rise from your blackness
Up to a new day
Where history can open a new page
To tattoo your glorious age.