PTC (June 29 1994 / Monrovia, Liberia)


Knock, knock... I heard
Hello there...... she said
Hmm hello… I replied speechlessly
Who are you...? I regained reluctantly
Me! She answered. Oh I'm just a stranger
A stranger who's searching- who's seeking a rest
Somewhere I would belong, but somehow tis a quest
For I've walked and tugged through those happy dangers
But somehow they all came for the worth of my dangling dimes
Like the world we live in- is where we are groom to serve the dime
Or perhaps tis only me.... that I failed to erase those hurtful angers
No matter how much I tried- but somehow I wish a rest of my own
A place that stands with everything, but falls for nothing
An arms that wishes serve- but commands like a King
Are you..... [Silence]- Then she smiles
Leaving me again.... speechless

Dock and run! My mind screamed
Who is this? It suddenly exclaimed
Who's this.... stranger- who just broke our walls!
And walked right up the stairs- to the door of our heart
To cry with a master's call that makes us feel- we're in danger
Do you know who she is? No! I answered- but I do know me!
I'm a ranger- I'm always running- always smiling n' docking
For I've gallop with my trumpet, but haven't met the mile
The one that will play-out my little game of cunning's
And care enough for my team- thus passing our test
Our pretense of no dimes- till we can make the smiles
For we have war and tossed with pretty mimic angels
But they all went singing for the nickels and dimes
And care less for our steadied, but precious times
Yes! We need a rest of our own- but tis still okay
It's still okay to remain speechless

Lock-in… I'm now seated at the window
With her last words still lingering on my mind
"A rest of my own- a kingdom that I can control
A throne to cherished, whenever there's war n cold
A hand that will protect- till our hearts can beat old
For there's history to make, so all the seas can be mild
And there's battles to win- that all smoke maybe gone
A union that serves, but backed by the likes of a King
Who stands for everything, and falls for nothing"
A mudslide is in Freetown- my walls are down
A stranger cried croak, and they just tumbled down
Down the mountain went- like that of the Victorian falls
It stood against everything, but fell for something strange
A queen- who has humor immured within her walls
The stranger- who have made my nights

by Prince T C Gbemisoye

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