Tell it to the wind...

Talk to me of gardens with companions pure
Sing to me through colours unpaletted onto
a canvas of a scene as vivid as a post-rainfall picture
Laugh with me through melodies melting into
unadulterated contentment

Don't tell me in your half anaesthetised state
of the father that you cannot find,
I cannot resurrect your mother
Don't ask me for more drugs
to dry up your tears and
deaden your heart

Let's revel in the contradiction of the African sunshine
lets exploit the fruits of democracy now
hold my hand while we skip salutations
to our struggle heroes under the rainbow

Don't pick at my conscience
or tell me of your reality
for I will be sure to explode
under the pressure of inactivity
how bad can a child headed house-hold really be?
Your eighteen, jump on the bandwagon of BEE,
and leave me be
Don't call me a 'kind person' because
I pretended to listen

Don't tell it to me...
tell it to the wind