The Village Mad Man Poem by Kiberenge Collins

I am the village madman,
This title I won,
When men refused to be men,
And betrayal,
Bartered souls with honesty!

I am the village madman,
With neither relatives nor friends,
But,
With a life to live,
A life far below the dollar,
For I was once a scholar,
Burnt always by the solar,
Didn't I have a torn color?

If you are wise,
You would'nt throw dice,
If your heart is ice,
Why then should my anger suffice?

You call me village madman,
Yet it's your wife who's grasshoppered,
You call me village madman,
Yet you are four men in one house,
Who then is mad?

You call me madman,
Yet everyday I see your children picked,
To the adulterous lodges they're taken,
Until dawn they sing merrily,
While I listen, I see everything,
And I can't tell you,
For I am a village madman!

Call me not mad,
When your children grace the streets,
Advertising themselves,
Call me not mad,
When you salivate for your brothers wife,
If what you do qualifies,
Why then do you call me mad?

My eyes are on my head,
My ears are listening, And I warn you,
Anytime I'll hear you call me, VILLAGE MADMAN,
I'll tell the world everything I see and hear,
In the heart of the night!