The Obama Ballad

History beckons the unities
Soul song of sovereignty
A universe unbound by ballot
By one race: the human race.

Rosa sits out hate
Martin walks the ramparts
Obama runs the harmonies
And we all fly free on eagle wings

From quondam cardinal points
A commonwealth gathers
Sovereigns and subalterns
Bonded by bounty.

Beyond hegemonic lore
The caged bird thunders
Past the darkling firmament
Amid the brave new concord.

From the pantheon of the deities
Words breathe and flower
For life’s one impossibility reigns
As a king named possibility.

Gold dust paves the cosmos
A haunting vision tingeing history
With loft magic of global communion
This Tuesday for sure: November 4, 2008.

 Rosa sits out hate
Martin walks the ramparts
Obama runs the harmonies
And we all fly free on eagle wings

History beckons the unities
Soul song of sovereignty
A universe unbound by ballot
By our race: the human race.

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To a fellow god: Michael Jackson

Pop god trumps death
En route the bank of the Niger
In kindred company of comrade deities
Like this game god of poetry
And the photo god named Owen Logan
Enacting the masquerade act
At the heart of the mother continent
In black and white and shades of riddles
Fostered indirect by Lugard’s rule
Upon the northern macho parasite
Feeding fat on the southern lady of means
By way of salvation-army messiahs
And emperors of democracy.

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(c) Uzor Maxim Uzoatu