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The lucky ones are still unborn

Still they live
in Odomankoma's womb,
and cast pearls
into the ocean
we call the starry sky.

They look down
into his pot,
and ask the old (wo)man

What is that black smoke
and that flashing flame?
Why do they cry
when they know
you do not hear?

Odomankoma,
wisest in all the heavens,
tells them:

That is hell,
with her new gods,
preaching fashion and make up.

Ananse has fooled them,
and taken all knowledge,
so they read a book
and think they are right.
They do not look,
they will not find,
but pray I do not send you there,
you lucky ones!

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Last few words: 
This is a poem that doesn't take a favourable look at the human condition on earth. It takes inspiration from Akan mythology, which has Odomankoma as the Godhead. I make the Godhead male/female, and elevate Kweku Ananse, the trickster on folklore to the level of Loki, as found in Norse mythology. It's easy to see the references to organized religion. Why I enjoy the cynicism, I will never know.
Editing stage: 

Comments

i freakin' love this poem!!!!!!! Bravo and congratulations for telling this story.

~Anna

It came in a short moment of inspiration, and I intended to make it as African as I could.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

http://www.wsgeorge.com/

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