Black Youths of the new millennium,
Bustling a busy on the high track,
Thinks to change the lifestyle,
And bounce on a new ambiance
Life! Ye art with mysteries and wonders,
Life surrounded with challenges, economic difficulty, political unrest, serious illness, family problems
and insecurity,
Thoughts of grass only green on the West-side fills the my minds
But alas! the grass is greener when water flourish,
Hanging on the edge of hope,
Took the ride clinging to the sea and fly into a long distance,
Taking a fancy street name for refuge.
Everyday on the bridge of hustling,
Treading on the death-rope everyday,
Running away from illegal-migrant haunters,
Moving like a boomerang in an unknown land,
Every twenty four hours on the move hustling,
Working like slaves and in the night eat like a rats
It's simply sadness everyday,
Lost the way at the edge of the curtain,
The cold and the raining search for prospering green grass,
All we can do is simply pray to God
The unknown city really sough,
The ugly master scream in range and rage,
You barely get instructions, curled-tongue's directives,
Making mistakes and hoping not to get caught,
The small master collects a share after woking like a slave
Tears in the eyes but still moved to the horizon,
Climbing the success mountain but alas the white enamel shines
It's such a wicked difficult to tread and never to fall,
Who do we blame our government or foreign governments?
The life searching was already made up,
At the plane of Savannah mother nature smiled on
Success, happiness and laughter struck on the way home
In a nook wailing and shouting after so many years,
Nothing to bring homeward but the fortune glares
Mixed some dime with each other,
Took the ride and Bloom into the fame ,
The song of success is at home!
Is it recession that drove him out of father land,
The burden seems light as a feather,
They are nothing to bear,
The struggle ends later than sooner.
A poetry dedicated to all African youths hustling in foreign countries. God bless your hustle.
