Jim Row Said that success is not an End,
But the means to an end,
It is the calculated pile after pile,
Sweat after sweat,
That at the end tastes sweet..
Some, like the bedroom sweat..
This albeit can be sour, sawa..
Jim Row Said that success is not an End,
But the means to an end,
It is the calculated pile after pile,
Sweat after sweat,
That at the end tastes sweet..
Some, like the bedroom sweat..
This albeit can be sour, sawa..
I saw that, with mine eyes,
in Zaire,
With Mubutu Seseseko,
And Mzee Kulubya Ssenseko..
I hear Medicine Nsereko,
Or Medi, nsaleko?
You may be Bad and not Black
But life, will treat you the same,
Without second chance,
We all have same time,
As Day follows Night..
In life, there is no second chance..
That is why, when i tried once,
To be a Priestly man of God,
So early,
And heard there was no dance,
I ran and hide at once,
To stay in touch with romance.
I planned to marry my village Nkwanzi,
The girl whose waist-beads,
Made me crave for beards,
As we imitated the Nyonza bird,
Down in Kanyonza valley…
Roasting picked and not stolen
Maize and cassava,
While it rained, beneath Musisa trunk..
This hound, Wolfie, like a Wolf,
Enjoys the flying and hopping stuff,
Crunching and licking its tongue,
While demanding for more,
Boundaries are no more.
I miss hunting for grasshoppers,
In blasoming maize and millet gardens,
While the dew, is doing its do,
Like Kafiti,
The Village Wag!
