Paradise lost

These heady days of balmy breeze

The ocean waves and swaying trees

The pure white sand and Crystal blue

If only what we saw was true . 

These days of hardship nights of tears,  enough to make the strongest fear 

The tropic heat that burns my skin

The dusty streets of shanty tin

These barefoot crowds with shifting eyes

Remind me that we peddled lies

And left them in their run down city

While preachers taught them grace and pity

So children cry to the crescent moon

And look around an empty room

We stuff ourselves to overfed

While all they crave is daily bread

And all around black poverty

Serves the whim of white luxury

I wish that we were truly free

To create a world of harmony

So many fly from lands afar

To bask in the heat of proud Africa.

But when they've spent their plundered gold

They leave this paradise lost and cold .

Joe Morriss

Mombasa , Kenya 2019