Beat the drum

Beat the drum
this time round real hard
until the knuckles sore,
swollen goes the arms.

Hard beat receive, Oh! African drum
so what if the there is a bit of knuckles harm
if only to wake up the mind that had gone num.

Yes, beat the drum
Let the children out they come
in trance and flanged arms
dance to the tune and hum
to the seductive call of death in
defence of battered Mum.

Let their voice rise to a thunderous roar
their face blazed in anger
rupturing the passive outer cover
to release the indomitable magma -
that is buried under
unremittingly meander
like a gentle turned deadly river.

Let the guns roar
and drench the covetous ghoul
with lead and sulphur
cauterised the skin,
in pain running the last run
in search of a shatter
that can be found no where.

Shake the feet of the aggressor in tremor
inflict his heart with terror.
Once again
for failing to learn
that there is nothing to gain
when the sleeping giant awakes
just to discover vultures
pecking the scab of his wound
he had rather long left to heal.

Copyright haileselassie Giramy
8/6/98