Her place was in a four-walled room called kitchen Broken dishes were the order of the day She had mastered the scents of the various nail breaking dish washing liquids she struggled with every time she tried to scrub the dirt away In this kitchen She was brought down to the level of a dishwasher…
Born To Gain or To Suffer
Grandmother! Our sage of our grandmother gathered us Beneath the big oak tree On a very beautiful night She began to sing: Born to gain or Born to suffer Born to gain or Born to suffer She began to utter to us: Great men are sons of good men Whose hearts are walls Weak men…
All the World
Several times a day the same play features in the recesses of a collective mind while shying away from the intended message: “Stop the carnage! Stop the carnage! Stop the carnage!” Psychobabble in the audio world where roadside preachers yell out random truths to the suspecting mob. They know, they know, of course they all…
Melanin Queen
Her hands by her sideHead downShoulders dropped and eyes fixed on an unknown prizeShe snails by in fearFear of pointing fingers and heart breaking laughterThose words like a butcher’s knife swimsthrough her melancholic melanin skin She wonders if Odomankoma painted her in hasteShe has blood for tearsShe is her mother’s dreamThat moment form the womb,…
Greet Africa when you return
I greet you AfricaI greet you from Cape to CairoI hug you with arms of my sister from SomaliaShe implored me: Greet Africa when you return. At Southern Theatre we metOn a gray Scandinavian eveningBut the African sun still shone in her eyesThe effusive Nile flowed into our handshakeConnecting us in an…
The Mirror
I look in the mirror. My reflection I expect to see. But what I see is not my reflection. What I see is truth! An image blurred with pain. The sorrows of the world. The troubles we face. Told as a story by the mirror. The stories. Never spoken. Yet, told in detail. By the…
This is not a feminist poem
This is not a feminist poem This is not contorted metaphors with neither punch line nor chorus This is not a feminist poem It is a woman learning to trade possessions before her lover takes his last breath. She will never get the chance to say goodbye because those final hours are one match-point away…
Forgive to be Forgiven
If forgiveness had a formula I would pursue a whole course just to master it. It’s not that I’m in love with the whole concept of forgiveness But I need to learn it and become it. See I’ve been searching for forgiveness for a while now. Singing praises and turning my life into worship just…
Silence
Silence shall not Calm the waters nor free us. Silence shall not Prosecute nor stop them. Silence shall imprison us Enslave our souls. Silence shall tie our hands While they strip off our clothes Please their hands in our lions. And even then Silence shall not Let us moan in ecstasy. Link to the Italian…
Let Me Enjoy Me
I Am Human Female Coloured Black Breathing bits of my sensibilities Let. Me. Be. Let Me feel Me and breathe Me And sip my beautiful self Taste my mind intoxicated by My thoughts Let Me enjoy Me And know how beautiful I can be The brown of my skin… a rainbow of brown Red yellow…