Let me have a touch of your aura,
raising the knob of darkened altar,
splitting this hot steamed flower of life
into the oiled creamed beam of breath.
Genocide, Xenophobia, Massacre,
3 blood sucking brothers of the West,
who dwell beyond the mighty oceans
casting arrows of division since 1884.
Alas! flame returns with dizzy hiatus,
voices in millions chanting one love,
yet, continent is divided; stolen from.
All, with no Black Alliance; Sirte 1999!
By: ENOCH OJOTISA