The Streets Are Red Poem by Kingsley Egbukole

My black brother
The son of mother Africa
How come the twisted mind
Of hatred and murder
Alien to mother Africa

Few year back in captivity
Your brothers fought in anger
Pulled scarce resources in unity
To save a brother in need
The whole Africa rejoiced
In the hard won freedom

What has thou done with thy freedom?
Oh my black brother
See the streets of Durban
See the streets of Johannesburg
See the streets of Pretoria
All painted blood red
The blood of your brothers

You rejoice at the sight
You sing the war song
You dance the war dance
You eat and drink in joy
On the blood of your brothers

How do you sing your war song?
How do you dance your war dance?
How do you eat and drink?
How do you rest in peace?
How do you sleep in peace?
On the blood of your brothers

Where is your pride?
Where is your honour?
Where is your conscience?
Where is your gratitude?
In the brothers that suffered for you

The streets of Durban is still flowing blood red
The streets of Johannesburg still shining blood red
The streets of Pretoria still glowing blood red
The red of your brothers' blood

Your hands are stained blood red
Your body is stained blood red
Your soul is stained blood red
Your land is stained blood red
The red of your brothers' blood
Yet you rejoice in blood red

Nigeria is weeping
Ghana is weeping
Kenya is weeping
Zimbabwe is weeping
Africa is weeping
Where then is your victory?
In the blood of your brothers

I weep for the rainbow nation
My brother whom I love
The red of the rainbow
Is now the blood of your brothers
Slaughtered without conscience
By you her black brother

(Saturday 7th September,2019,5.44 pm)