Emmanuel Morgan

The Great Ones in a Strange Land

Strange fires burn the Land
Strange voices fill the air
And strange songs are sung
They are served and feared
They call themselves the “Liberators”

Their hands are stained
With the blood of the innocent ones
Their best plans are the corridors
Of extreme hunger, death and bloodshed
Oh yes, they are called the “Liberators”

They are the wisest ones
Babies are happily slaughtered by their hands
Innocent mothers and children are their prey
In the valley of skulls
This is the sign of their might and wisdom
And so the people worship them
The people applaud them in the public places

They are the great ones
Their dogs eat cow meat
Yet the helpless ones
Painfully swallow dry farina

These great ones fly in comfortable jeeps
But walking, the helpless ones
Count uncountable light poles
The great ones live in paradise and mansions
Yet the helpless ones
Share caves with terrible mosquitoes
They scorn the educated ones
And honor is given to killers and criminals
Oh yes, they are the great ones!!

The great ones’ instrument of wealth
Is just the blood of the innocent ones
Who cares?
They plan and wage terrible wars
And like ants
The people then perish in mass graves
Rampant corruption and death are the ends of their plans
Rockets and terrible gun sounds
Are the rhythm of their strange songs
The helpless people dance tirelessly
And then the people make them kings and queens
They are worshiped and revered
What a sign of greatness!!
What incredible wisdom!!
Truly, they are called the great ones!

But are you surprised are you??
Isn’t it a strange land hmm??!
Believe me, you just left Liberia!!

The America Dream

A lone voice penetrates the desert of America
It is a voice from a just soul in a human vessel
He points to the graves of those who struggle
Under those by whom they were slaughtered
Only for the cause of their natural color
Yes it was by the cruel hands of the oppressors
Isn’t it a shame!!
He is restless for he sees
Brothers kill brothers
Brothers hate brothers
For he sees
Humans reduced to the level of the beasts
For he sees
The tearing apart of the human species
On the mere variation of the same species
True, his just soul is restless!

So he endlessly cries in the lone desert
‘How long shall the people’s blood flow from Georgia?
‘And how long shall it flow from the hands of Mississippi oppressor?’
“How long??”
But his soul is quickly awakened by a vision.
A colorful paradise is the image of the vision.
It is a vision of the human species.
Of all human kind living in harmony and peace.
It is a vision in which the wolves and the lions
Play peacefully in Zion.
He called his vision the American Dream
For an exodus of Americans is what he sees
In one accord, holding hands
Like a colorful rainbow of people on the land.
They collectively cry deeply against social injustice
And plead for human unity and dignity.
It is a collective American voice he can’t forget.
True, he has a dream; it is an American dream!
His name is Martin Luther King. Jr.
Soul force is his strength.

Mama Liberia

I wake up this morning
And by reflection I can see you
My memory like a television
Sets you down in your unique African attire

On the last day when I saw you
You were being surrounded by two white roosters
And a black hen
Mama, you told me they were signs

On that day, mama Liberia, you mourned
As you called on your neighbors and friends
For your house was truly on fire
And I remember, mama
How the blood of my brothers and sisters spread like a river
From Greystone to Corter camps
From Duport Road to the Fendell Campus
Your beloved children lamented
Helplessly for help
I remember how they died like ants!

Some of your children ran to the
Home of your friends and neighbors
You told me they were
Being insulted, beaten and dehumanized
On a daily basis!
Mama, how can I ever forget this??
How can I ever forget these terrible scenes?
How can I ever forget those heart-piercing pleas and cries
Of your children in displaced camps, on street corners,
And in broken homes
Hiding from rockets and bloodthirsty men?
Darkness was a sign of terror and death
And the daylight a sign of hunger, disgrace and horrible scenes!!
How can I ever forget??
Mama, how can I !??!
Mama, the fire is off
But the flames still exist
The flame of massive unemployment
The flame of massive poverty
The flame of massive hunger
And the flame of disease and disunity still exists

I know how day and night
Tears fill your palm! - I know!!!
But how long will you
Wait to see those flames go off
As you daily see your war-wearied children
How long, how long, mama Liberia

Lord, You are My Strength

Yahweh, when problems flow
Like a big stream of river
When my enemies crave like angry lions
To tear up my flesh
Lord, you are my only strength

Lord, in their secret, dark places
They long to see disasters
They long to see misfortunes
They long to see calamities
Befall on me, oh Lord
But Jehovah Shalom,
aren’t you my strength?

Copyright © 2008 Emmanuel Morgan