OCEAN OF CONFUSION

Gzogzo-Khalinda gathered me asunder.

My heart apart,

my soul avert

like a river that departs its source. 

In my letter

to the Queen of furnished flower.

I was the custodian, 

a postman on the bicycle 

riding on the Atlantic ocean

which reflects the memory

of my wasted ancestors.

Suddenly, my motive

balloons into the evaporation of forgetiveness.

I looked back and 

all i remember is Gzogzo-Khalinda

;

the man of crossed gun

that defeated our ancient alcoholic sakabula

with a mere bow of hat.

If in the afterlife

the prejudice still separate black from white

let me not be guilty to die

on this ocean of confusion.

S I A.