SOMETIMES IN APRIL.

Sometimes in April 

When the Atlantic wind blew dark clouds from the South
And dimmed my curved smile With cold shivers and drowsy countenance,
My heart raced against the walls that binds it to my chest
Longing to be freed,
Thirsting to be librated
From the deserted deserts of exclusion
And the chains of poverty.

Sometimes in April 
When waves of revolutions swept across the land 
And in hope of glorious morrows, every roof leaped with joy,
Some pledge their kids to this uncertain cause
As they swarmed Monrovia's streets chanting triumphant songs;
Dawn has come 
And the former order has been rolled away,
I too danced with my AK-47.
I held my riffle atop my Head
Shooting shots of victory in the clear blue sky -
Redemption we said was here at last

But this is my story of the wars in April...

Sometimes in April 
The buildings we looted and stores we raided,
Electricity we cut off and bridges we destroyed,
Our mother's bellies we tore apart and raped to death our sisters,
The old men scrotum were castrated and our brothers we gifted with narcotics.
The babies were so tiny for bullets to be wasted upon;
They were simply buried alive as we swam in charms of all kinds.

Those Aprils are now dead and gone....
My every dream is now an horrific movie;
There's no comfort in Monrovia and it's environs for me 
As i'm battling with the aftermath of codeine.
My daily bread is now heroine and cocaine...
Dreams? They are all shattered and gone!
My part to play in this broken society is done 
& the tomb is the only place I call home, 
Perhaps this is the blessing upon me bestowed 
For raping to death my mother with riffles.

Now at home,
Every time I sit back to spit sweet stories;
Telling my tales to my neighbors I lived with, 
Perhaps some I killed and I don't even know.
But they are now My friends.
We're reunited once more,
So we keep company as I smoke my cigar
And I tell them my story of the wars in April! 

Bill Ivan's

©2018.