with your marriage,
To a tune that sings.
Sing a song of sixpence,
’Cause you have got more,
Jumped right over the fence
And landed on the poor.
You and all your grandeur,
And all your stately charm,
Got to a stately figure,
By bloodshed, death and harm.
Sing a song of sixpence,
’Cause you have got more,
Jumped right over the fence
And fell for ever more.
Sing a song of sixpence,
’Cause now you’re sixpence less.
Jumped right over the fence
And now you’re in a mess.
The Black Writers’ Workshop
We are like cement, soft and protected,
Set hard and projected, the image
Of the mould of four hundred years,
We, the ever flowing
Tears of laughter and pain
Sprinkle our stories
Like light warm rain
On eyes that search for truth.
We, like cement, are weather proof.
We, the singers of dreams,
The echoes of screams,
The rivers of crying eyes,
Inject our words of truth, of love
Into the heart of life-living lies.
We are like cement, soft and protected,
To set hard and projected as the image.
Understanding Difference
I am the snake
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