The land of Horses

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I wasn't raised in a land of horses,
No, where I am from 
They did not have the lush for it,
Where I am from 
They did not have the stables 
Not shoes 

I did not grow up looking at mare's 
Nor their fawns, not stud's 
No, where I'm from
They do not 
Where I am from 
That is a dream 

A dream watched on my master's television 
As my father cooked his food 
Big eyes and thrilled 
Weary of the car horn 
And accents I hoped to have 
Hoped that the private school he paid for 
Would give, hope

I didn't grow up in a land of plenty 
No, where I am from 
They didn't have savannah's nor waterfalls 
We did not have hundreds of cattle 
Nor did we mine for diamonds 
My father, for all he's worth
Sold me ideas and objectivity 
As he fawned at the delicious injustice 
His salary, he fawned 
The white man he would say 
They know where it's at
Shining the glistening Peugeot 
A superclass vehicle made from far off revolutions 
I did not understand 

No, where I am from 
Hair was that on my head 
Theirs was theirs!
No, no additions, no extensions 
My father would growl 
Bemused, I knew he knew nothing of beauty 
Hair cuts and plainness 
He would demand
Plain, I was

In awe, I would sit in an expanse,
The widescreen in that living room 
Gored by its luxury 
Telling me stories of places 
Too far to be true 
Of teacups and sandwiches 
Of big hats and charming gentlemen 
Men with white accents 
Clean men with clean nails 
Soft hands with delicate ways 
Not like my father 
I would wander in those long corridors 
Silently praying for fortune 
To lay me waste 

But I was born in the land of asses
The workhorse of the bunch 
Asses, where the birthright was third inline 
Asses, where we entertain,
Full of teeth, big breasts, and hearty laughs 
Where home-brewed beer pours 
And young men's dreams 
Flood the drains of petrol stations 
They have nowhere else to go 

A place where strife trends 
People compare worries as a fashion 
Money floats 
And my masters' generous education 
Under-valued 
I can not find work!

Discredited by my ass folk, my kin 
For my ovaries do not deliver 
Nor does my certificate catch the man 
Nor does the man want the education 

He spills his seed mindless 
He refuses to reap all his done 
Blames the system for his failings 
As he expects to be called King 

Where I am from, we do not gallop 
We walk strides 
We are hurled from country to country 
Exist in lasting gap years 
Wiping bottoms 
Crown ourselves with superficial pride 
Here the tool is different 
I am different 

I am not my father's daughter 
Nor the tear of my mother's rib 
I am an ass, the beautiful ass with big eyes
Slouched by the border 
Silently waiting for the shout 
The whip, a way to go 
or do I just follow? 

               

Location: Hongshan Hongshan

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