Crying in Hiccoughs

The Monument

9 From the carnage emerge the elected Skulls of hornbills empty; Wielding tanks, bombs and bayonets, For brains, charisma and fortitude. In a continent prone to death. The Monument The Emperor built a monument In his image and glory, And gilded it from toe to crest, And at its feet we laid palm fronds. Guards stood watch by day and night, In sunshine and rain alike, And it, in a circle backed, To face the external foe. On each nativity, ‘sages’ the world over, Paid homage to emperor and monument, And the world went round in glory, For the animate and the inanimate. Then after three scores the Emperor, In the way of all flesh went, And the circle of guards turned inward, And with raised guns faced the enemy. With a click the boom went up And a mighty cloud of dust rose, And where the monument and some Die-heart guards stood, Lo! An empty space became. 10 Beware then of monuments self-erected, Be they in print or in stone, For only posterity real monuments erects, And those, for eternity last. The Unknown Soldier When brave men die and cowards live, And cowards live to write history, They proclaim themselves brave men, And the brave, the Unknown Soldier. We know the brave, they fought for us, The mosquito is one, the tse-tse fly the other, Their skeletons litter the marshy jungles, They never knew the microphone. This monument we raise in their honour, The sources of Republics and Empires, Tread softly, thou visiting head, Honour the dead, and not thy host. To The Youth of Africa Third World is a euphemism, Underdeveloped, an insult, Developing, a challenge, And developed the goal. Place then yourself in this, And your attitude x-ray, ...