Friday, 29 March 2013

red soil

I sat there
drinking tea with this
hard-core italian
humanitarian worker
and between sips
she kept on talking 
about walking 
lines in Mogadishu 
and loadin' up ak-47's 
...before the war, in Syria, 
that was heaven, she said
-now I know, she's led 
the fast life, 
in broken countries
I know she tried to do right
by the people 
not carin' about the monies;
she said she misses it
she said she doesn't fit into it,
stable living, I be trippin' cos
now she be contemplating 
becoming a fisherwoman
in a tropical land
man, I knew I was on to
something, and walking through 
Tottenham Court Road 
listenin' to 
'land of promise'
I promise you, I thought I knew
that my heart was buried
somewhere deep in Africa
somewhere deep
in Conrad's
Heart of Darkness...