City of Legends

We interrupt the sex and sorrow to release the new lyrics for Kitabu, jointly here and on the Amomancer blog. I sat down with my original lyrics, and threw them out, as they were woven into a tapestry of the other lyrics. Not the first time or the worst reason I’ve had to throw out lyrics, but annoying. I will probably get shot at for the "legacies of pride" line, but pride cuts both ways, those who have something to be proud of (Mandela, Tutu) and those who do not (Amin and Mugabe) but would puff out their chests anyway and take pride in their sickness.

I wanted something that captured the texture of Africa, as well as the turmoil and the complicity of silence, of indifference (no, I am not being metaphoric here) of the West. For better or for worse, this is what came.

Kitabu

land of dark and green and gold
where diamonds rise and weapons sold
become the arch for hot hearts cold
to the pain of a sullen midwife.
Africa! Mandela! Amin! Mugabe! Tutu!
legacies of pride and those who died
fighting for something more, inside.
where both fates and hates collide
in challenge to all new life.
Africa! from the Sudan to the Cape!
from the grass where rose our species
to the killing fields of the disease
of human greed and human need, please
let us not turn our backs on this strife.
Africa! Hadeda! Zebra! Elephants! Lions!
Jesus weeps for the slaughter and the pain
that falls in a dehumanizing rain,
and for our indifference, we wear the stain
as surely as the madman with the knife.
Africa! land of passion and hope and dreams.
land of passion and hope and dreams.
land of passion and hope and dreams.
a book as timeless as it is enigmatic.
but as beautiful as it is bloody.
and as worthy as any grace under heaven.

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
special thanks to Aubergine, for the inspirations.

 Within hours after successfully winning a rigged election that included the kidnapping and murder of supporters for this opponent and forced voting, Robert Mugabe has declared himself the winner in Zimbabwe and sent out the inaugural invitations (I bet they were pre-printed).

The world retches and, except for our concern for those who are directly and indirectly impacted by this thug and his pathetic regime, laughs at a comical figure of twisted and perverse evil, trying so hard to be a third-rate Hitler or Idi Amin.

He’s more sad, like a mad dog who you know is going to die soon, swallowing its own bile, but you still are concerned for the damage it may do to innocents around it.