An African Man's Disease

Laughter Is A Crime

They say laughter is the best medicine,

To my people, it's a white and black lie, a deception.

Does the sheep chuckle as the wolf devours it?

Does the sun shine brighter as storm clouds gather?

Does the roach dance gleefully under your heel?

My people are happy robots.

Empty shell and carcass being of laughter.

Ubuntu has lost its meaning.

My eyes burn with anger, devoid of pity,

For our suffering is mocked by our own laughter.

Our future stolen, our mothers violated,

Yet we grin.

Our sisters have been stabbed in the vagina to curse their womb,

Yet we smile.

We're still stuck on the cotton fields whipped by inflation and poverty,

Yet we laugh, hoping for salvation from a man in the clouds.

We amass churches and mosques, but neglect knowledge and bond,

Yearning for a prosperity that will never come.

Laughter is a crime when your anus is filled with the dick of Neo and Col that end in Lisim.

My people are a happy people,

Full of noises on pages of screens,

Debating laughter emojis while our home nurtures on fire.

We laugh with tears of blood,

Our fertile soil dances to the tune with hunger for returns.

My people are a happy people,

And so, therefore, I encourage our oppressors.

Rape us till we die and rape our corpses still,

Hang our skeletons as a trophy to our grand-children.

Make them wear our bones in fragments and starvation.

Burn them in larceny,

Rip off the breasts of their feeding mothers,

Till we get checked by the doom of our reality.

For the sheep doesn't smile at the throat of a wolf,

And a minuscule roach knows to fight its way under your heel though it dies.

Far better to die free than to live in perpetual bondage.

Laughter is our collective crime, a symptom of our mental derangement.

A Poem By Wizz