K'cracy, Trees in the Storm and other Poems

Our House

76 Our House The House we build at polls In, meet uncle’s comrades To prattle on our lot, But their empty upstairs The claques’ nodding perform. Ours must not be uncle’s. Grandee’s script them divide, Dividing his parlour From our House depending For subsistence on his. Now, our House should stand, On its pillars standing. Our House, the builders gilded. Father’s father being lamb Accepted the grave grange But, let fall his bread crumbs Our House with ease enjoyed…. In grandee’s, seating today Our uncle, grandee’s first And would not drop down any But tiger-like preying. Nor father nor any Uncle’s action embrace; The compound deserts him; Abandoning our House, not erecting another Nor sending us back home Creating flowery gardens In which we shall stand home But like a dumb he escaped…. For father’s father dumb-like escape Beguiled we stand agape, Sinking in swamps’ forest. Our fertile village land Needs a hitch and courage And there we’ll bask ourselves Like playing eagles at dawn ’planing across the sky in the morning sun. With backs on walls, we must To the last wan, wailing, fight. A stand our House will have 77 Our fields we’ll enclose Not in this slump gilded house! Sheepish were father and four uncles Giving theirs and ours: voices, Not to this swamps’ forest, To two: grandee’s home north And uncle Ernest’s sunset. Parents were, children, no! With celerity stand Them facing their village Ready for abrogation Of the oneness unsigned Nor will it ever be. Father soloist departs Not unveiling the mind Nor with us chanting, Dreading he becomes one; Slave to unveiled secret. The baggage on our head, Challenge, unburden it Stand airy in our House, A House he’d never lease! ...