Tunes! Play no more
Flute! Rest those sounds
and save us from those memories which scare our tribes
Songs we sang in those nights
No foul thoughts occupied our minds
Drums rolled and raised our heart's joy
We, the tribe, drove happiness on tunes of the ringing flute
Palm-wine soaked men's heart
We laughed at the altar—bleating like sheep
together with the masquerades
Sparkles that lit the night young rose to Nana Nyame
He watched without signaling: He watched without a heart
Songs we sing no more
are memories of the enemies behind the mask
hidden in the skin of the gods
the tribe bowed in obeisance, extending their heart's joy
the twins.... the twins!!......the twins!!!: their heads were stolen
bodies without heads; the last of us.
Can't say no more.
Tunes! Rest those sounds
Flute!! Play no more
Save us from those memories which scare our tribes
Our hopes are buried enough. Our tribe welcomes the eternal night
Never shall our songs be sung again.
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A Heart That Ever Cried
PoetryA Heart That Ever Cried knows pain, knows love, knows loss, and knows how to reconcile his emotions. Above all, that heart knows how to inspire through such reality. This is only the beginning of something new and critically informative about the bl...
