Come, Lets Beat The Ancestral Drums...

Sitting here flowing

through the meters of time

like a smooth spring stream

meandering through forest greens,

I peruse the convolutions

of the caverns of this mind

of mind---searching for words

in the precincts of ancestral souls

to tell the stories of our dreams

visions and realities---married

to our creation as supreme

manifestation of the reflections

of the Giver of all that is

and the spirits there of.

 

Life can sometimes be seemingly void,

emotionless and somewhat stoic;

but such cannot be the confused condition

nor position, of the darker hued poet---

we are chosen to tell our stories

of then and there; of here and now; and

the coming of what must be.

 

So let us rise up like the griots---

vocal libraries---and like the parchment

writers of old---weaving our stories

of great queens and kings---

young fertile minds need to know.

 

Come brethren, let us word the fighting spirits

of our new beginnings here---landing

like sardines in a can---we have survived;

what a legacy of the freedom spirit struggle

our fore parents have bequeathed  us.

 

And now here we stand; rooted in this strange land

no longer shrouded by the veil of fear---

body and soul---we are still here---here to stay.

 

Come brethren, let us beat the ancestral drums:

Ba Doom!  Ba Doom!  Ba Doom!  Doom! Dum!

A new day has dawned and we’ve arrived again.

Come children, beat the ancestral drums!:

Ba Doom!  Ba Doom!  Ba Doom!  Doom! Dum!

It’s jubilee time!  Liberation time!

Beat the ancestral drums!

Redemption time!

Ba Doom!  Dum Doom!  De Doom!  Doom Dum!

Ba Doom!  Doom!  Doom!

De Dum!   De Dum Doom Dum! 

Doom!  Doom!  Doom!  Doom!  Doom!   Dum!