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African drums, African drums Something 'bout your culture hums.
Must be your people, must be your time. Must be the rhythm of your
feet beating rhyme. Yet, would you believe the truth of this fact
That some wish to send your ancestors back.
They think that somehow this world's better
bred If ebony and ivory is divided instead. Just a thought there
away, past the oceans blue line; Separated and solitary, its division
so fine, That the echo of color is lost in its sea. Each singular
shade left alone then to be. As each is remembered in the print of
some page Crumpled and yellow and fading with age. Left empty and
dying in one's memory As the ocean waves on in tranquility.
African drums, African drums Something 'bout
your culture hums Must be your jungles, must be your rain Must be
your wildlife, your forests and plains.
Certainly citizens you all must agree that
there's both good and bad in the fruit of a tree, that a baby is born
and a man comes to be and his mind and his heart is his own, can't
you see? And neither belongs to a color or creed, both good and
bad in humanity's seed. For all people, all colors, all faiths, yes,
all men - have their light and their wisdom, their darkness and then.
They fumble and stumble, rise, fall and sing. It's their own souls,
which are tolling, the bells that we ring.
The art of
Jennifer Baird
click on her name to visit her website
African drums, African drums something 'bout
your culture numbs. Must be the fact, that we'll cease to be. Must
be the split in humanity, with a nation of black and a nation of
white. Each then to stumble and fall in man's night and
understanding and compassion simply won't be. If each is a brewing
their own cup of tea. Yes, separate cups of humanity.
African
drums, African drums Something 'bout your culture hums. African
drums African drums Something 'bout your culture numbs.
May 21, 1970
By Lady LaMythica
Copyright Linda A Copp a.k.a. Lady
LaMythica 1970 to 2020©
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