africa
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Africa my Africa; of resources rich.Aggressively wooed because her potentials enrich.Africa the bride, historically bid for.The continent dark with opulent fields to explore.
The Maafa - The Great Tragedy - The African Holocaust
Culture, name, religion, and many lives lost
Sailing West from the Gulf of Guinea through the Atlantic Ocean
The history of Black People,And all of our People should be celebratedYear-round: every day, week, month, and decade.The celebration must go on unabated,All the time. The first couple,
Bajo el puente Del Río están parados, atascados, estacionados
Miles de inmigrantes Haitianos, no Ucranianos
Francamente, si fueran estos últimos, no serían sancionados
Betrayed and backstabbed
By our African brothers.
Insulted, humiliated and robbed
Unlike the south
We are
From the Congos
We all emerged - Beautiful
Our feet stamping the grounds and breath humming
With our tongues
We spoke words that shocked the havens
Yes, I am thinking about the human race
Please note that race has ‘four letters’
And most four-letter words
Can cause problems, ills, havocs and wars
It’s Clearly Good To Be Precise When It Comes To Your LIFE...
So I Try Be PRECISE When I Write My Rhymes...
About These Times Where It Seems That LIES...
Are Constantly Supplied And Being Driven Into Minds... !!!
This year mi nah garn care
This year mi ah care less
What dey wan chant, wah dey wan do
Dem wan see we dead inna sufferation
But pon di water dey wan we dead we are sail
AFRICA
I Pondered
What's African
Time.⌚
I came to
realization,
why Africa
is yet
lacking
behind.
Dear Africa, don't you know how strong you are?
For out of your belly has come many great names
Nelson Mandela, Funmilayo Kuti, Desmond Tutu, Kofi Annan
but that's just a few
Why do you try
To fit in
When you’re a limited edition?
Alter your dreams
And you become
A sacrifice to the system.
Be an adventurer.
Chase your dreams
And find answers.
Never give up
It all started when things were "No longer at ease", for Chinua Achebe,
He has to take it because it was like " Things Fall Apart".
All sad stories start the same
Kinda starts a while back
On a bench you could be asked
“How does it feel to be black?”
I used to let my emotions out
For it to fly in free motion
It was like a white dove poor and innocent
The bird was not able to turn into an eagle
Its soft wings spread through the air
Once upon a time
(not as far as you’d believe),
they would have called me a monster---
a “griffe”
half-eagle, half-lion.
A quarter of me here,
I have a journey in mind
What can be sweet and kind
About this world in which we live
What does this morning give?
Territories fade into extinctionBoots overturn lands and flourishing empiresRocket Launchers flash into carded hillsBombs pelt municipalities into destruction Haggard paths tremble under the weights of weary footsAs boundaries are marked in the c
dear boy,
tattooed over the heart of every girl
are words that read thus:
"handle with care"
don't bore holes into her skin
with your penile eyes:
she's more to admire
than trips to cloud nine
I'm a poet,
I have the license to stare at anything, anyone,and write what I see, anytime, anyhow
If I'm staring at you,I'm not being rude,I'm trying to decide if you need to go in a book.
Start with an organic beat,
Embellish it, make it new.
Create, borrow, infuse,
Add to the silence,
Develop a beautiful blend.
The matted carpet on my head
Wreaks of oils and creams
It shrinks up like a dried raisin in the sun
And festers like a pus-filled boil
If it’s out and wild
She paints the colors of my heart,
And we will never be apart.
What makes her beautiful?
What makes her shine so bright?
Its the sound she makes,
Its the way she plays
Mama Africa.
She paints the colors of my hearts,
And we will never be apart.
What makes her beautiful?
What makes her shine so bright?
Its the sound she makes,
Its the way she plays
Mama Africa.
connected by blood and marked differently by hair and villages
they were enticed by our beauty,
we walked the earth with pride
There was one more word I needed to say
but he left before I could say it
So I texted it to him
It was Bye and he never responded
It didn't even say he read it
He had deleted my number
DOOMED. Doomed I say.
For all has been destroyed.
Endless souls have fallen into the void.
Lost I say.
They are the Forgotten Ones.
They had a Life full of Fun, neighbours and Family;
Disaster struck and tore it all apart leaving them Funny;
where use to be home is now pile of sand, stones and nothing...
Africa sweet
Africa my home.Africa my sweet home.
My black race I will embraceMy black race I’ll not disgrace.
Hakukuwa na rom au ale katika ardhi ya Yoku.
Wananchi wa mali badala walikusanyika na kunywa divai tamu katika mipaka ya vibanda vyao msongamano.
From the Boiling Point
In the Glory of Morning
Faced with a Stairway to Heaven
We Travel with Gulliver
In Overland Trucks
None shall be caught in Hades’ Toilet Bowl
For we feed on manna
My words tend to be abrasive
sometimes abusive.
They are painful and will wear you down
it’s like sandpaper versus toilet paper
When Afrika is seen not heard
All mothers mewl for they are so
With Afrika portrayed absurd
A father’s place is soon let go
While Afrika by fools is tamed
That brother hunts for joy with lead
I have orated to the lay
about the dangers of AIDS
& how every books page
brings you a step closer to getting paid
I have recited to the rich
about a large poverty ditch
I make music for talk radio
Sounds which bring a sting
You better get strapped in
this is strictly poetry
You’ll find no sixteen bar forms
or punch line platforms
and I’m still the illest poet
Tanzania: the fertile land
Young children, how they work so hard
Get good grades, pass, get out
Thus is the dream for many
But reality strikes like lighting
As hopes are shaken
Going to school,
12 years and I'm done.
All my 8 classes,
demanding attention.
I use my car to drive there,
it could use new suspension.
All that car maintenance,
demands such attention.
I see this girl all alone and wonder why? So I go up to her and ask are you okay?She replies by saying leave me alone! I didn't know how to react so I began to slowly walk away. Then she stopped me and says “African booty scratcher”. What?!
Filld with that turgid silence
Registering disturbance in resilience
Arousing aroused anxiety
Beauy debated in baked filthy
Stealing instant focus
Un-delineating no locus
Pouring oxygen of drivel
Beautified by mountains, lakes and wildlife,
Africa is innocent in alluring sunrises and sunsets.
She is that child born beautiful and strong,
Loveable in majestic dances and laughter,
I never understood how a city could be divided in two.
Nairobi City. The city of two. The rich and the poor too.
This is where you succeed if you know who to talk to,
Where is what he fought and died for?
“Who?” I hear you asking.
Dedan Kimathi! The man we love to forget.
The man who turns in his unmarked grave every day,
The man screaming in his grave right now at our betrayal!
Walking down Eastlands in Nairobi with my head bowed and my hands pocketed at 3am has always been such a beautiful thing to me.
I have been around and I have seen a lot.
And many a time I have been to the ballot.
Sometimes when I am looking around,
I see their ignorance being spoken out loud.
“Psst! Psst! Have you heard?
He has just bought a new car.
And his wife, she is so beautiful!
How did he manage that?
He must have visited the witchdoctor.”
I am drowning in tribulations yet I laugh.
I laugh at you, I laugh at me.
I laugh at all of us whose lives are tough.
He watches us with much glee,
Seeing how he fooled us once more.
Her porcelain skin reflects the light,
That is absorbed by everybody else’s deep brown around her.
She is not rich, but they think she is.
She does not know everything, but they think she does.
From Adam and Eve to Ancient Egypt
and from Egypt to modern Nigeria
Africa has always been teaming with diversity
With over 2,000 cultures
Africa is a melting pot of cultural exchanges
As I roam the poor streets of Ethiopia,
The wails of the children come to my attention.
I look to my left and see the worn-out, oversized clothes
That hang loosely on their bodies.
My great continent Africa.
Africa is so rich and big.
We have oil, diamonds, and gold!
Europe, Asia, the Americas joy!
They want to take our riches.
Yes I am one of the biggest continents!
I am greed, want.She is need, lack.
I am anger and frustration.She is hope, tenacity.
She is yellowamidst the grey that I'm become.
But I am success, money.And she is poverty, dust.
From the African jungles,
to the ancient African temples;
Why do we praise Shakespeare?
We see as the water ripples,
our people once shook speares.
Remember, Africa created art.
Land of the free & the home of the brave
No, I'm not talking about America, I'm talking about Somalia
Before it was broken
Before we used our power with words and not swords
Out of the night that covers me,
In the shadows of self unseen,
Only the spark can ignite me.
As I thank the Higher Power that be,
For the courage to be a shining light.
– Where is the Justice?
My feet matches on oil,
But lives in a world full of self-doubts and loss,
Yet in the faces of challenges, I strive to live on, because in victory tells the story.
His forearm is cooled by the sweat of his elbows.
The fire is started in his hand, in a ski mask and shell toes.
I heard that all the animals are going back to Africa. That my family is going back to the south we're going back to Georgia and that white people are now getting looked down on for saying the N word.
A mother, stolen of her children later had to hear the countless tales of their fate
The engulfing waves of the sea filled their lungs before they could cry,
You're crying ,sick and your pain is so badIf only you would have listen to the plan I hadSaying no to drugs and sex is not a crimeI have said no over a thousand times
should I say, I have known these armsor should I say, I've long known their facesI don’t need an eternal litanyof hymns before I believe them.......
If we knew then what we know nowThat there were worms in their teaThat woes and headaches awaited usAt the end of the road beyond the seasWe would have pleated our dreams at home.
10101: my home.
A place of beauty, nature, tranquility,
serene.
And yet here we are.
Victims.
Homelessness, poverty, pride, HIV
AIDS.
A gun was aimed at my head
The policeman found it comical to imagine me dead
He didn’t care that I had a beating heart of my own
He didn’t care because he is put on a throne
To him, we are not the same
They say that African history is a mystery In schools they teach little boys and girls about Conrad but not the misery that Leopold and Stanley so gladly put my people through. They show young children
the motherland is crying
we are longing for salvation
we are yearning for the peace of God
our security is broken
the serenity is nowhere to be found
what have we succumbed to?
Yet my path grows my story will never change.
It grows, it calls, and it even bleeds, yet never asks for help.
The world we live in today
can in a moment's notice decay,
which without reason will leave us orphaned away.
I have walked over the prints of African children,
and yet nothing's changed.
Lights, Camera, Action
Light, How do you see it?
Can you even see it?
Or is it felt on the fine arms that brush up when air is left of mist.
People don’t seem to know
They never seem to understand
All the pain I refuse to show
When I hold a little brown hand
I see the pain in their eyes
Surviving from day to day
Sweeping dust in the factory
coughing out pollution casually
making shoes for kids in the west
each hour getting paid ten cents
there is a woman in somalia
each day she faces insomnia
The sweet scent of mangoes, yellow andgreenJuicy sugarcanes and crisp pawpaw’s,coated with pleasurable sheenEach dotted with drops of water from themorning rain
Their eyes, I can't seem to shake. Their eyes, they look with beauty and grace. Those smiles, that delicate innocence. That desperation, you can feel from a distance. The warmth of a heart.
Alexander K Opicho(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)Daughters,sisters and brethren in the African womenfolk
Who am I?I don't have a full comprehension Yet,But living this long,And becoming this strong,From the hardships I've faced,The sorrows I've embraced,
In Africa, the sunset is not like
Athens where the colors come
out at night, after the city burns
hazy red with car emissions.
Or in London where settling light
is damp like watercolors that
She is a goddess.
With the smoothest cocoa skin and eyes that sparkle
like the Sun at its zenith.
A queen.
Her crown aglow with the glory of her pride and the powerful
stride in her feet.
To the "dear" Mrs. Langerman.
How dare you take advantage of a young child.
She was innocent, sweet and mild.
Just because of her race you stood there
Discriminating and staring with that dark stare.
What happens in homes wherefathers are rolling stonesand the temptations ofthe street are open so oftenthat any other optionis unknown.
When you look into my eyes
What does you see?
You see a pitiable disposition
Suffering
Pain
Poverty
From the beginning of time
I have been marked “thing” or “animal”
I don't think you get it. Have your parents ever hurt you? Day after day?
Bruise after bruise? I don't mean physically, But by harsh words. You'd think someone
Lion Lion in the plain,Giant paws and golden mane,Licks his lips craving meat,Scans the plain for prey to eat.
Wish I was colorblind
Differences weren't relevant
Soon as I was to find
A dog is not an elephant
But what about the hurt
so important color
sep'rating whites from dirt
"Momma, you are a vivacious woman with enormous potential."
"Son, the corrupt has taken away my innocence."
"But you have given us all birth."
I dot the foundation on the uneven areas of my skin, like I’ve seen my sister Rose do. Figuring out the uneven areas isn’t hard, since my cappuccino birthmark is not the same pecan tan tone as my skin.
Will the lion's roar,
Be heard forevermore?
Or will it fade into the distance,
Like the music of a past African dance?
Will the elephants still tread,
the paths they've memorized in their heads?
In a distant land, from where I was raised
Where I grew up and where I had played.
I had never dreamed, that I would find
In a different place, a home from inside.
So many new faces! The handshake I know.
We prepare long and hard Sweating and in pain We arrive and the the air is dry and stiff I hear no language that I know And acknowledge my detachment from familiarity We arrive to our new home After a bumpy ride In a run-down, old, moldy bus The
What is there to do when your whole culture has been uprooted and shunned
Identity relies on oral tradition and storytelling
because textbooks are too afraid to tell the truth.
Tracing my roots..
Riding down this industrialized road
Looking through the tinted glass
Watching the land escape my view
Tracing my roots..
Fifty-five miles per hour, I watch.
Bang! Bang! Like the shot heard around the world
Another life lost on the curb.
Once more, an innocent life unfurled.
Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset.
When hope dwelled above the waters of despair
And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul.
Where trust and fear were honest and pure --
When I look in the mirror I see so much more than myself, I see Africa.
I tug at my hair and watch it defy gravity, each strand standing tall and proud, refusing to fall like the great pyramids in Egypt.
I am that little girl living in that little hole.
Insides oozing out of me, insects creeping into my soul.
Moans and cries nightly and daily, accepting my punishment, vulnerable…..gravely.
Can you see them?
The ones hurting
Crying
Dying
I can
You go on with life
As if nothing’s wrong
Everything’s perfect
But I know you hear them
