Disenchantment Flourishing in an Era

Digital Shadows and Light

In a world now wrapped in screens so bright,
The pulse of life flows through digital light.
From mobile phones that fit in a hand,
To social networks that stretch across the land.
The mobile hums with a ceaseless call,
Connecting voices, great and small.
A tap, a swipe, and worlds collide,
In the virtual space where lives reside.

Facebook's realm, a gallery vast,
Where memories and moments are cast.
With photos shared and stories told,
We find connections, both young and old.

WhatsApp's whisper, quick and clear,
Keeps friendships close, though far they're near.
Messages and images blend,
Bridging distances, helping hearts mend.

Twitter's chirps in a constant stream,
Where thoughts are shared and news redeems.
In a burst of characters, voices rise,
A global chorus under endless skies.

Yet in this weave of social thread,
Lurk shadows where the light has bled.
For every save and inspired creed,
There's a loss where falsehoods feed.

In the quest for likes and fleeting praise,
True connections can be lost in the maze.
The screens may shine with vibrant hues,
Yet they can obscure the deeper views.

In moments where the world is seen,
Through filters bright and digital sheen,
We may forget the touch of hand,
The warmth of heart, the voice unplanned.

For every friendship forged in code,
There's a truth that may erode.
The bonds that grow through glowing screens
Can sometimes lose their human means.

In the realm of endless share and scroll,
We seek to fill a deeper hole.
Yet, in the frenzy of the web's embrace,
We might miss the warmth of a face.

So as we navigate this digital sea,
With all its wonders and its plea,
Let us remember to cherish the real,
To feel the touch, the love, the zeal.

For in the balance of our screen-lit days,
We must find the light in old ways.
To bridge the gap of virtual might,
With the touch and truth of human light.

The Market's Silence

In dreams, I wandered far and wide,
A symbol of his quiet stride.
Taught to sing a song of none,
Without a chorus, melody, or run.
I learned to mime a poem, bittersweet,
Waking early, eager to greet
My father with a dance anew,
But mother said, "He's gone from view."

To the neighbors' post-mortem fair,
Absent from the family's care.
At school, the syllabus was swift,
Extra-curriculars, a shifting gift.
They gave me lies as lessons taught,
That the earth's not round, but caught
In spherical realms, they spoke of greats,
Marx and Newton, history's fates.

In classes of diverse thought,
Historiography, philosophy sought,
My heart grew heavy, swine-like in weight,
A proud ghost, white and late.
Home I went, to care and share,
But mother said, "He's not there."
Father's at the market, once again,
To shake the earth, and bear the blame.

In church, the minister held my hand,
Singing songs of love, unplanned.
At crossroads, devotion's light shone,
Kindness, and I stood alone.
Looking back, with radiation's gaze,
I felt bound in neon's blaze.
Father danced without a sound,
To markets where melodies abound.

Mother said, "He's at it again,"
While I sought devotion, met with vain.
I asked for beauty, found only dust,
Honour given, yet lies and lust.
Where legality begged for grace,
Illegality in a darkened place.
A spark in my eye, a thunder's might,
For father's dance in morning light.

I longed to dance in sunshine's beams,
Through quiet breezes and tender dreams.
His steps I heard, so vibrant and true,
Rhythms and melodies of every hue.
We smiled, laughed, and stole a glance,
Wishing for that eternal dance.
But when I asked, "Where is father?"
Mother said, "He's gone to barter."

Perhaps to dance with rhythms and drums,
Or to weave proverbs where palm oil runs.
I wept and wailed, walked straight,
To the market, at church's gate.
Kneeling, I prayed in tongues for grace,
Missing father's light and his face.
In seeking him, I found my plight,
Myself in double shadows of the night.

The Treasure of Empty Promises

In the heart of Africa's land so grand,
Riches lie deep beneath the sand.
Oil flows like a river of gold,
Nature's bounty, untold, unfold.
Forests dense and minerals bright,
A wealth that glimmers in the night.

Yet amidst this splendor, shadows creep,
Corruption's grip runs deep and steep.
Leaders feast on riches vast,
While the people's fortunes slip past.
They send their wealth to distant shores,
And leave the land with empty stores.

With every promise left unkept,
The riches lie where shadows slept.
In foreign lands, their fortunes thrive,
While here, the people barely survive.
Their children learn in schools afar,
While we are left with scars so marred.

When they return, it's but a shroud,
A final journey, solemn and proud.
To be buried in the soil they've drained,
A mark of greed, where hope is strained.
Their coffins, lined with foreign gold,
While the people's plight remains untold.

The oil wells shine with empty dreams,
As corruption's shadow weaves its schemes.
Forests fall, and rivers dry,
Under the weight of leaders' lies.
The land of promise, rich and grand,
Is left to wither, scorned and banned.

So here we stand, with hearts so torn,
In a land where hope is worn.
The riches lie, but we are poor,
Struggling on a distant shore.
For in their greed, the leaders' plight
Has left our land bereft of light.

In graves they lie, their wealth intact,
While we mourn a future cracked.
The legacy of dust and gold,
In every story left untold.
Africa's riches, buried deep,
By those who left and never keep.