He Comes To Me Every Night

by The Protest Poet

"My son you will be great man	
work hard like a slave to live like a King"
He whispered one night as I slept
I have never seen Princes labor
It is slaves who build palaces.
"My son never hurt anyone for money
all wealth from violence vanishes in the morning"
He whispered the other night.
All the rich managing the country kill
Our young cousins who are soldiers are better
They kill for a living
This has gone on and on as your voice
When will their wealth disappear?

"My son, listen to me
I went through those roads"
He whispered again yesterday
I wonder why he never got rich
Evil is the new good
Politics is now a profession
Killing is investment

"My son, shun politics
it is a dirty game"
He whispered
As I walked to the party offices
To get my joining card
Amandla !!!
I shouted raising my fist high
A sign of defiance against his invisible voice

(Amandla means Power, and it is used 
as a political slogan by many political 
parties in Southern Africa)

He Comes To Me Every Night by The Protest Poet

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