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Message From The Compiler
Oppressing Saviors Robbing from the rich until you‟re just as rich, Saviors become oppressors tell me which is which? Smoke and mirrors, smiles and hidden triggers They promised us a country but they gave an inch. Raised fisticuffs and a need for power akin to lust Quickly gather all the Born Frees and tell them who to trust. Make them diamond diggers young backs don‟t crack with vigor, If they argue give them farms so they can eat the dust. Milk and honey currency turned into funny money. Independents like to act like they never knew it was coming. Pseudo figures missing 15 billion single digits They don‟t talk about it but now everybody‟s running. From stepping light so they won‟t be under a white man‟s foot To leaving ghettos so we can be a black man‟s cook. We asked the grandfathers who said we were empowered, When the time will come for us to feel some economic power. The vote was won for us we get to choose for ourselves, But smoked salmon brunches aren‟t reserved for the “help”. They take from the rich and they become rich, Saviors become oppressors but which is which? To remove your former masters then to benefit from their system, Means only we are left to catch the scraps of food we‟re given. Now when you take from the rich so you can become rich, The new oppressors cannot hide, and we know which is which. © CS Chigumba
Forgive them For the pain they„ve cost, the blood we've lost And tears we've dropped forgive you For a death they caused to our hearts, our lives, they destroyed like a page torn apart Our freedom, they destroyed to depart And reflect our choices as wrong Until being black was never a song we long. forgive them For their too many rights that left us wrong For the freedom they sing but we never get to hear For the system that locked every black child Out to remain black but never proud lost but never found forgive them For all their wrongs that stole our rights and left us questioning our identity For their sweet talks that undressed our thoughts and left us thoughtless For freedom of speech that left us speechless For the mind games that bombed out heads down as they take the crown forgive them For the spirit of hatred they planted amongst us For the spirit of humanity they burned to break us For the false statements they make to fool us For nations building they claim to win us For the spirit of equality they preach while they divide us forgive them For the all apartheid bullets that left us dead, lies that made us be seen as bad Racism that got us treated as black Fake smiles that fooled us and left us blind Freedom that stole our rights And made us bleed as we scream for peace forgive them‌
For all tear marks, they left on our faces Fake love they dressed our heart with to make them feel at home in the wrong place For treating us as if our freedom Is a bet for a apartheid race Disappearance with no trace Distance of wide space Motion of unchanging pace Disappointment of a disgrace Forgive them For they don't know what they are doing. Š Adel
#‎ALutaContinua Damn, A Luta Continua, Do we need another King, Martin Luther, Coz it feels like we're in a similar struggle, Fighting for freedom in these concrete jungles, Yes, weâ€&#x;re fighting on a daily basis, It's 2016, but still so many racists, You can find them , up in the institutions, White supremacy hiding behind black faces, Yes, so we need more people, Who are gonna fight, fight for our people, Less superstars, and more superheroes, With conscious movements, like Steve Biko, Then we can make the whole world listen, When we stand united without, any divisions, Addressing stakeholders and the politicians, This is the power of Student Activism. Damn, A Luta Continua, Might lead to another student revolution, You see that's what happens, when all these rulers, Become part of the problem , and not the solution, So the youth, we still suffer, In a land full of doors to opportunities, Where education is the key to success, But how can you achieve it if you can't afford the keys? So we still fighting an old enemy, That made it's way into the 21st century, A system, that promotes white supremacy, Even at the expense of black legacies. So, as the struggle continues, Let's unite as the youth of the nation, Until we can overcome the whole struggle, For the benefit, of the future generation. (c) Thuthukani Ndlovu
A New Entity A certain calm descends Throwing caution to winds A life of gay abandon Break free from the humdrum, morbid existence No more in the fetters of feigned affection Unassailed by the critical eye of a cynic Life, to me is a light-hearted banter Engrossed in a lively conversation Infused with humour and jest With the lot I like Away from the nauseating, toxic crowd Who revel in hair splitting arguments on nothing, the high-handedness irks me no end judgmental and barbed in their ways perennially seethed in anger and impatience I pity these inferior souls. I move on unaffected Promising to myself Faith, being my cynosure Walk by with a clear conscience Competing with the self to discover A better „ME‟! ©Sandhya Padmanabhan
Proudly Black I am proud cause I am black, I didn‟t say tanned but black. The berry doesn‟t have to be sweeter cause it is black, Nor humus rich cause it‟s almost black. Wouldn‟t hold a grudge cause you say the devil is black, Neither frets cause evil magic is black. Black is what I am, else less a man The sun in Africa didn‟t make me that. My brothers who know the temperate will testify to that. So the day I stop saying I‟m black, I‟ll die. I am proud cause I am black, I didn‟t say tanned but black. God bless me cause I love what he made me, Black! I need not special favors cause I am black, I need him less cause he made me that. Work with the black brain and way, But be malleable to the common cause we should all trail Light and dark stages, the world will photosynthesize, I have nothing against you cause you‟re otherwise. Crowned with an essence by providence, Melanin deeply sunk in me with an overwhelming presence. I am proud cause I am black, A proportionate portion of God, Who is a rainbow plus black! I didn‟t say tanned, I am black. © Jupiter
Behind the hill of Marikana (Dedicated to all the mine workers who died, 10 to16 August 2012) Yesterday, I saw a piece of my freedom die, As my soul renaissances Memories of Hector Peterson Fugitive of the sound of the machine gun My neck repositions Connecting my face to AndriesTatane Resonance of the Sharpeville Massacre Last night, The angel of death was born on a cursed hill Resurrected to rewrite evil history chapters My hands hold my head My intellect refuses to consume this Visions of my dark eyes witness supernatural powers Colluding with the universe to reverse A day my ancestors turned cold in their graves Seven times fold, a holy curse Behind the hill of Lonmin Behind the ghosts of the mines A new apartheid story is born In the belly of this continentâ€&#x;s earth Boom-boom, click- click At the hand of the machine gun Like nameless animals They deserved to die, Like scripture in the books of hell Their dignity suffocated‌
They bite the dust as hard as Terre‟ Blanche's crust Killed for new history lessons, So my children can learn about the police's obsession Undersized with intellectual segregation God! Stop this violence and aggression Mercy! Mark my words How can black on black apartheid crown Steve Biko as a clown? This is a 21st century war Where is Madiba‟s forgiving crown? Marikana, my bitter salvation Lonmin was never the solution Negotiations was the conclusion What happened behind the hills of Marikana? © PropheTezz - Tessa Muller
Why is it important to develop a culture of reading and writing? (Part 1) As Francis Bacon states “Reading maketh a full man and writing an exact man”, it is significant for one to explore the different facets of life which is possible through reading a variety of books. Then, there is a creatively expressive side to a human mind which needs a timely outlet which is done by penning down one’s thoughts as and when they originate from the different corners of the mind. Sandhya Padmanabhan My culture is all I have, I must tell it in both written testaments and spoken words. Chukwuka Jupiter Usi Literature is one of the greatest challenges in our country especially in the foundation phase (Grade1-3) & this continues even when first years enter into university. Comprehension is also a concern since so many of our learners read fluently but can’t comprehend any of the content. We need to create champions in schools who can further develop the culture for reading and writing. Our own stories need to be told by ourselves and not by outsiders and this can only happen if there exist a culture in our less privilege communities who are usually gene pigs for academic researchers who have the resources to tell their stories in their way and not in the manner the story was conveyed. Tessa Muller , PropheTezz Knowledge is power. The statement is a cliché but it remains true. In order to share knowledge and empower those who may have never fathomed certain ideas, or those who had ideas and did not how to express them, a culture of reading and writing is important to develop. Children learn and expand their minds through written literature but more importantly, through arming them with the tools that allow them to express themselves and their ideas. Without a strong culture of reading and writing entire generations will never be able to fully challenge their surroundings. How will they express themselves? There is no future without these skills, no growth and ultimately no power. Christopher Sean Chigumba Reading is important because you gain more insight. We cannot continue to be a generation that is comfortable with washed down knowledge, we need to hunger so much for knowledge that sitting down and feeling the pages turn in our fingers is all the fulfilment we are comfortable with. Bridgette Karabo Mogoje Because we cannot grow without learning. Trees cannot bear fruit with water and sunlight. Tom Ravenous aka Swahim
The woman in me For many years that unfold Her stories have not been told Her resilience like gold So priceless to be sold In the face of hunger and starvation She stands her ground She fights for her family and nation Her hopes and dreams are bound All the same she stands bold Protects her children from the heat and cold Nurtures them and moulds From a young age till old All she endeavours is to build Let her lead as she could Avail an opportunity for her to yield Only then society would blossom as it should Š Bonlam Machiha – Highflyer 1
Free Prisoners We go in we have fun We make alcohol from oranges, bread crumbs and stolen sugar Drink our brains to happiness. Whilst, the Ugandan men are busy blowing brains of homosexuals. Prison is not that bad. That's why I go in, then wanna come out when the walls cave in, but want in when the world caves in. Imprisoned sockets leak from open blindness, yearning to be dipped in the word where everything is certain to become clearer Our level of consciousness rose by ten or so we thought! These bars of reality shows are too wide for us to be closed in and left to believe we‟re in charge of our minds, when in fact at this level we‟re at, we are not. Will I ever know? How to free myself from this mental imprisonment by these men with black faces? And white tendencies? Are they mixed? Are they bitter? Are they really rich? Left to think wealth is in the merc on the street He was dumb enough to let a Goddess into believing she is nothing but a body nothing more, everything less, lesson to be learned is that black man you are better than that mind-set. She is God-sent, straight outta your bones protect her. Left to believe in iron reflections of what they want you to be, picking up rage from your complexion You are a King, not a convict You are a King and not your fist. You are a much more truer king than the black man portrayed by the Americans don't let them lock your mind into a dungeon and leave nothing for young ones. Wealth is knowing who you truly are and accepting your roots. Wealth has nothing to do with money, but more to do with your welfare. But what do I know? I am just a black girl that grew up swinging on salon chairs, scratching a coarse scalp, wishing for long blonde hair and kissing a poster of Mandoza before sleeping. Waking up hoping I will see the glorious white man walk by in the shopping centres of Qwa-qwa, chasing white kids friendship bare feet in shopping malls of Bethlehem…
Before I knew it? Biko showed up. Ditching church doors for green more like yellow trees and got dragged back for an exorcism, but the trees exorcise me into greatness they bring in the Goddess in me that in front of God? I won't tremble in fear instead fiddle with her spirit so that at dawn, I have hers, in my palms, so when they come together my lines illuminate to exorcise the devil. Is the devil in my mind will I see his soul transcend into the morning Sun, so when it shines on every living thing, it brings itself to smile will the world still be flooded with lavas to re-create what was once a prison for a poor man? Rich man's world ladi dady The poor will be trapped inside plastic cards do try to blade it and see if really you can survive this prison called world. Under the dome of Rockafellas they made it first is that why whiteness is greatness? Overdosed on guilt pity and confusion Could not even feel the tips of my fingers My toes, even my brain. When secretly we all want to please, but the rebel soul in us forbids this. But in all sense this world excludes rebels, thatâ€&#x;s why they often sleep in asylums, chew on pills, sleep on concrete floors right next to the train station to feed black cats. In God's world how can mortal men have so much power? Still yet to learn. These hardships we sail on. On the shores laying on sand grains then I will be baptised by this waves into knowledge of self, freedom of expression and embracing where I truly come from and not what I was made to become a free prisoner. Š Azanian Nile Lily
WOMEN'S EMPOWERMENT OH! WOMAN live LIFE... Empower and Empathize yourself, Manifest your dreams and destiny, Persevere and be the Provider.. OH! WOMAN live LIFE... your way. World awaits with stretched arms Encourage and Entourage the Earth Respect yourself to retrospect your ambitions Master over your latent talents Enriching everyone in your path Nurture and Nourish yourself and the like. The Nation needs you, the World awaits... OH WOMAN LIVE LIFE FULL CIRCLE. ŠUsha Krishnamurthy. R
The Farm There‟s lots of animals on the farm, and I‟m one of them. I was born and raised here and I hope to be like the rest of them. The older cows I mean, the fat one‟s in the field. They eat more than everyone else, we used to have enough for our needs.
The farmer and his wife run the farm like they own it. They do I guess, if we could only be better for it. The animals produce, and they take. That‟s it. Many animals try to speak out but silence is always quick. The farmer likes to visit other farms to see how they do it. So many promises at farewell but on return he leaves us clueless. Other farm animals tell us our soil is rich and ready to plough. But the farmer forgot how to farm, or maybe he never knew how. There's a drought, no green grass but the cows survive on the weeds? I wish I could ask why the farmer doesn‟t plant any more seeds. The cows get fat then fatter than fat it‟s a wonder how they survive. Of all the animals on the farm the cows do over-thrive. The bulls are stubborn and long in the horn, the keepers of all they survey. There's no other animal ready to kill another for a mouthful of hay. All the milk the cows can make is gathered and taken away. The farmer will sell and keep what he reaps with his wife at the end of the day. The pigs are next in line and they're not that hard to please. The carry an arrogance born of delusions of grandeur they heard on the breeze. The pigs will do your bidding they're not picky with what they eat. Make sure to keep the trough filled and their loyalty will peak. The pigs can talk to the farmer but they only ask for more. They fight amongst themselves to ensure their needs are at the fore. They don‟t care about anyone else, they secretly wish they were cows. Give them a shot at the top and they'll turn on each other and start to devour. I‟m a chicken so cockle and doodly do is the sound that cries the hen, The rooster doesn‟t cry anymore he lays within his pen. Half asleep, half awake, he falls but yet to crawl. Chickens will watch from afar for a sign of life from open kraal doors, We'll cluck, we'll peck, we'll murmur and postulate. We'll swallow the crumbs on the ground and continue to ponder illogical fate…
There are wasps and the asps, in the forest they live with the bees, The bees don‟t make any honey, they sting only to please. The farmer promised them flowers and chances to pollinate the rose, But the wasps don‟t smell any flowers, their ways are so enclosed. The asps pretend and move on the sly, they work close to the bees, But soon they'll turn on the farmer, and bring him to his knees. © CS Chigumba
LET ME BLOOM Let me bloom as a flower without strings and thorns to prick you Let me bloom as a child without fears but a pure innocence to laugh without your barriers Let me bloom as a butterfly as a peacock Free to be Me Let me bloom as an eagle to soar beyond lands and rivers unseen Let me bloom I pray thee Let me bloom without the earth shaking and your heart in fear Let me bloom so I rise above the moon Break not my wings and tie me not to to a stunted tree Let me bloom I implore thee LET ME BLOOM. Š Charlotte Addison
MANDROIDS PART 3 Lost touch with reality Fingers only familiar with phone screens Life has been reduced to selfies The evolution of man-chines has proven to be a disaster Uniqueness a myth We are all clones Technologically Modified Organisms (TMOs) Not wired to control ourselves Computerized insomniacs We only sleep when our batteries are dead Hydrophobic, cause bathing puts us at risk of water damages High level of hospitality comes with software installed in us And that's why we keep hosting viruses Vaccinated with antivirus software to prevent sicknesses Medicated with updates USB ports are nostrils Through which we sniff them Our ancestors had tough skin We are extremely soft Cracked faces are the most visible signs of when we have fallen Technical surgery constantly required to renew our faces While rocking masks in the form of screen guards Making fashion statements By wearing cell phone pouches Manufactured civilization Factory faults mean being birthed with technical deficiencies‌
Growth doesn't exist Children are referred to as cell phones Teenagers are tablets Parented by laptops While desktop computers are the old age No privacy when you are born with ports for earphones And that enables people to eavesdrop when the inner voice speaks Selfies make it possible for people to see themselves in you Those who envy what you have always expect you To share with them via Bluetooth The formatted few have nothing to say Looking attractive on the outside Hiding dysfunctional motherboards Labeled "smart" and yet can't think for themselves It is sad how we've become breathing machines with emotions ŠThomas Masingi Copyright 2016
Why is it important to develop a culture of reading and writing? (Part 2) It’s important to develop a culture of Reading and writing especially in Africa in order to say our own stories, preserve & chronicle our culture & more over interact with the world and learn different cultures. Bonlam Machiha Reading for me, opens up the mind more than anything. Where we could be stagnant and ignorant, reading informs and challenges growth and perceptions. It is so important to have a voice and where it's impossible for one to be vocal for one reason or another, writing affords a voice and an audience which in turn into important dialogue which informed etc. The cycle of information is fed and kept going. Cathrine Chidawanyika Makuvise - Cat A culture of reading and writing is essential because we truly are limited and bounded by our lack of knowledge. Reading is the most important skill one can ever have, feeding our being with knowledge liberates us and opens us to a world of possibilities. Every writer began as an avid reader and the next generation of writers will have to be passionate about words and books. History is preserved through each letter, each emotion captured by words for posterity. Charlotte Addison It is important to develop a culture of reading and writing because reading and writing develops the mind and through reading we discover new things. Writing is also important because it develops imagination and it also develops the creative sides of people. Elizabeth Semende Reading allows people to access various ideas & expressions, which allow people to discover different parts of the human experience. Writing allows people to utter these ideas and expressions. A culture of reading and writing creates a space for the constant sharing of these ideas and expressions between readers and writers and therefore expands the human experience for all who read and write. Tshiamo Malatji
EMANCIPATE ME Society is an unjust hoi polloi. Masses of people, versus one sexuality. These women! They seem to disremember. Once upon a time were they not like these little girls they marry of earlier so they make profit? These women! I‟ve heard them lure their earthly lords to overprice the girl child. Ageing up, these women seem to disremember, the importance of education and independency. Women why are we our own abusers? Our own worst enemies? Can‟t we stand up and tell our husbands, the little girl is not yet ripe. These men! Have no shame. Not at all do you see them eat on unripe mangoes, but unripe babies they want. Masculine, manful; They jaunt all over in search of young girls to marry. Young enough to be his third daughter Are there not ripe women out there? These men! Really have no shame. They claim they own the world. An owner who barter trades a child at the age of ten. Masters of slavery who call themselves Fathers. Lazy, superfluous, arrogant men who takes pride whilst auctioning their own blood to the highest bidder. Only to get cows and a few dollars. Emancipate me!! Emancipate me!! The little girl cries. It‟s become the theme song of her heart. Looking at him with dread, she can‟t sing louder. Invisible tears, bottled pain no one to share with. Father is a pimp. Mama wanted her share of the lobola so bad, she couldn‟t wait …
Deserved an education, But Father traded her for cows and goats. Mama wanted to buy new jewellery. Turned to a wench, a trull; In return they got money. Mutilated dreams, queered future all in the name of marriage. Emancipate me!! Emancipate me!! Š Elizabeth Semende
OK The most frequently spoken word in the world is „OKAYâ€&#x;, and often people utilise this word to display, synonyms like: all right, favour, approval, confirm, and finalise. I have no time to analyse, I am in sync with the groove, I will make no evolutional move. Which is sad, The world is coming to an end, the people and the government do not blend, war is caused to expand, they may try to mend, the catastrophic effects of life with non to append. This could be the day I bury my best friend, dust to dust, sand to sand. I could just pretend, The best I could say is, OK. Let me explain, Global warming has done it again, Ebola outbreaks in West Africa, Xenophobia attacks, racism gone insane, wildlife destroyed, and everybody wants to feel this void, inside, we are all annoyed. Something is missing, I think, but hey, that is good enough for me. Is that how it should be? In this world we see, so many evil doers, lies, fraud and deceit, but the best we could come up with is, OK. Is this some sort of a morality play? No, its not okay, not when okay means ignorance. People die every day, yet their deaths hold no significance. Between me and truth there is great distance. Making sense is very rare, even though I ask God every day for deliverance. Did you know, that, at any second of the day, somewhere around 30 million people are watching porn. Reality is worn‌
Hearts on the loose, nobody wants truce, and for all the wrong done in the world, there‟s always an excuse. Women, child, drug abuse, No wonder the brave choose, to recluse. While the majority choose to conform, A feeble generation will start to be born, OK. When you are too close to a picture you won‟t see, You become a part of it, but step back and let it be, You will see, the mystery of it. Step back, because, the society we live in is filled with greed, And sinful deeds, Every time we say OK, the world bleeds, Like a syphilis, I am sick of this. No longer will I confirm to the norms of society, Unless it is true, regardless of its range and variety. Because honestly in my point of view, We could do, without OK, We could find a way, to say. we are not OK. © Omuhle
The Black Oasis They threatened our homes, their forests and made us live in a pacman maze/ And called them town-sheeps as we herd there to reap the fruits of ploughing and beholding the cotton/ When we drown in wetlands they call it sin holes/ Even when the holes in our sinks get fluttered with the stains of our blood, steams and labour/ Because all we can afford is a mere bread, butter and soup with seven colours that shine once/ A spectrum of rainbow on a Sunday summer rain afternoon of our forests/ As we were given statues of bricks to brighten up these jungles and darken the wars in our minds/ Vacations are an epitome of barriers of adventure, as much as we think of wealth as a venture for the chosen/ We remain unsolicited in these zoos/ Our minds are regenerated to plough in the plantations of servitude/ Our bodies to glow with ignorance in its bliss called the death of the origin/ The light never dies, only the glow of the candle/ Load shedding to our dreams, they come back fabricated with our own stories, vanilla told/ Our plus size dreams shredded with laborious dis-eases/ Made to create a system of labyrinths to pursue PhDs/ As we keep pulling her down to her knees to plea to god for the fees to fall/ They rise like vapours of unanswered prayers to a god we forgot exists within/ Vanished to the skies that absorbs our complaints, screams and cry for our lands/ Rain forgets that she has to cry to feed us from this land and all we get/ All we get is an echo of clouds blinding the sun to pave the way for the journey to our modern plantations/ Night it remains as our remains are left without remains/ Her story untold to the generations with the genes of our rational blood but not minds/ Unsure of the way they see this journey, not knowing it's just a maze with no maize to feed their bellies/ A shame to uneducated graduates of the game of life/ All they ever had was just the ingredients of a lost altered map/ Made to believe in a fool's cage where it lives a baggage/ Filled with rage for ages where no sages find no comfort ‌
Smile while they perish in dark skies and act like they don't care/ Know that blank pages feel the urge of the ink as much as tears paint a different pain, changes/ Last night I slept with a pen on my feet and dreamt walking in blank pages/ Leaving foot prints that left trails to the origin of our skin kind/ Unbleaching the colour of our minds/ Untwisting our feet that turned screws, digging graves of self-hate, politics and ignorance/ Unlock the hands of your soul, decriminalize your existence/ Humanize the soul of your soul/ Dear brother, ‎Souls that engaged before the eye create a bridge from the heart to the mind/ Heaven above were never a haven for such misery but the spirits within/ I hope you had a safe journey/ I slept while writing this up/ Bear with me the Sun, when I say slumbering words are meant for nocturnal species/ For it is still dark. a journey back from the end. Š The Nurturer
NO WAR Bullets, Bombs, Fires Wars, Guns, Ammunitions Yells heard from far and near Echo like men speaking ashore. Blood gushes like tap water Out of wounds made from shots By those heartless and cruel soldiers Who have no sympathy and no sense of living But are anxious to kill. Those "bloodthirsty" devils Invading the camp of the innocent And robbing them of their dear lives. Hearts thump in anxiety and confusion As elephants raiding a forest with huge footsteps Fear grips our dear souls Who do we turn to? Where do we take refuge? The rhythm of tears silently cross our minds Like the tune of the orchestra Shouts of those who hurt Redounds in our ears. We can hear them loud and clear In the bushes, homes and everywhere Photos of the dead display in our mind's eye Haunting us to the core- ghosts in a world What atrocity! Tragedy has befallen us! There's gnashing of teeth- he'll on earth Who'll set us free? Loud screams from frail lungs Wrinkles like dry leaves. Gallant men have fallen Energetic youth feeble Downtrodden and sullen oldies Flimsy and helpless children. What a bad omen we see!
The agony of a country Once clothed in the attire of peace Now devastated and broken. What shame! What disgrace! We wanna be different in our homes and with the rest of the world Be we as cool as a koala Unharmful as a newt No chamelonism No sycophancy No compromise compromise, Autocracy and Divisions. Let's be transparent, clear and dependent. Join hands let's be Together we stand, divided we fall We all are significant No trade for calamities Let's uphold our land Make peace our breastplate Harmony our badge And say " NO WAR“. Š Nana Ama
Melanin Is The New Skinny! (October 13, 2015 at 11:55pm) I have recently started University and I am coming to understand the struggles of being a black woman in this modern society. When did it become okay to call someone ugly based on the fact that they are thicker than the females in your life? When did it become okay to disregard an individual‟s opinion because they are darker than you? When did it become okay to overlook someone because they have nappy hair or braids instead of the European styles we are being taught to prefer? I am a black woman. I am a black woman with curly hair that refuses to cooperate. I am a black woman with a butt bigger than that of the people in your life. I am a black woman who embraces the fact that my lips are bigger than yours and I refuse to whisper to accommodate you! Dear young black child, you should too. People will always mock that which they do not understand. They will mock your big thighs because they cannot dance to the beat that it is producing, they will mock the manner in which you speak because hearing that you brain is actually bigger than your curves is a foreign concept to them. Dear young black child, the worst thing to be is passive. So, speak your mind. Be heard when you speak, never allow people who have not experienced being black advocate for you. Because, only a black woman understands what it feels like to be a black woman. Black child you are powerful. Embrace who you are. It isn‟t a matter of Black is beautiful as much as it is about white isn‟t all that beautiful. Marcus once said, Black skin is not a badge of shame but rather a glorious symbol of national greatness! …
You are a descendant of Maya Angelou, Oprah Winfrey, and Winnie MadikizelaMandela. It‟s not just about the black skin, it‟s about realising the power that has been vested in you. It is about realising that not being skinny enough does not take this power away. It is about realising that being vocal doesn‟t make you stupid but it brings to the light the struggles that the rest of the world do not understand. NEVER allow anyone to make you feel inferior because of the texture of your hair or the melanin in your skin. Embrace your melanin. For it is when you DO NOT require validation from anyone in the world that you become a force to be reckoned with. Therefore, rock your thick body. Speak your beautiful mind. Carry your symbol of greatness unapologetically, for in it is an overcomer! © Bridgette Mogoje
Freedom is Mine (Dedicated to all the freedom fighters in my country, 2014) Freedom is my right in Godâ€&#x;s manuscript Freedom emancipates my mental subjugation Through equality and non-violation To set the captives free Truth is, Freedom is a must And not to be discussed At first we were christened ascursed Black of our skin so immersed But unrehearsed with fists held high We battled and emerged from western critics Freedom is not yours alone Nor is it mine left to be a cloned I am your blood, for better or worse You and me, as one love Like Madiba and Biko fought for us Like Merriam and Moses went before us The genesis of songs of jubilation Raises fires of celebration I am a rebel for freedom I vote for it with wisdom. Š PropheTezz - Tessa Muller
The Debt of Freedom There on long remembered podiums They waxed lyrical of long remembered freedom With words threatening the very heavens Bold, alive and straining against chains They recounted the years and means of their servitude Showed the scars of fetters on sun-kissed skin Their very hearts were bombs threatening to explode And the voiceless stood in awe The claim for freedom could claim lives The ultimate price And this they pondered many a night And recounted by many a fire to the living and soon to be dead To the children and the elders Soon they fell into unfamiliar rank Formerly men and women and children of peace And with battle-cry and songs of home and bloodlines in their loins they marched forth To reclaim and bring home long lost freedom With their blood, their limbs, their carefree smiles laid at the alter of war Those who made it back had new songs sung in muted voices Some of horrors, some if victory Some too hard to sing along to Youth was lost, brows were knitted, eyes were forever dimmed The price was too high It's still being paid And the interest grows Day by day Š Cat
Revolution We are pawns on a chess board. We will move forward with everything in us And keep fighting along with everyone around us To finish what the previous generation started. We will either die whilst trying Or we will reach the end of the board To discover that the pieces we become are exactly the same as the ones we started with. We will realise that a revolution is a rotation round a point And understand why in every point of history, revolutions have always ended where they have started. Political freedom fighters then; corrupt politicians now. Economic emancipation activists once; tax evaders now. Non-comformist ideas and art forms of the past become the generally accepted standards of the current. In general, each successive generation will become the system that the next will fight against.
We will realise that passing the baton does not matter because every relay ends where it begins. Revolution is a dog chasing its own tail; We can clearly see the goal we want to achieve but we never will achieve it. Real change is Edward Snowden turning on his board and telling his king, "I will not fight for you!" Real change is not found under Guy Fawkes masks or beneath power salutes. If the motivation revolves around a point, it will be this generation's solution but the next's problem. Upon reaching that point, you will cease to be one of us Because by definition, you are no longer part of the struggle when you are no longer struggling. You are no longer a pawn when you reach the end of the board. So, our slogans should not be 'Move Forward' They should not be 'Revolution' We should look back at the history we have built upon and see what we can change‌
We are pawns on a chessboard. But even so, we can turn around, Look back at the injustice each generation eventually serves and declare, "We will not fight for you!" Š Tshiamo Malatji
WE JUST ARE Like bones with no homes And homes with no souls We are nothing but Fading laws. We have migrated out of simple norms We now walk in hate Talk with regret. And slowly losing recognition of who we are And what we are supposed to be. Our hands are tired like bow ties Its stylish that way , that's what they say. Our voices have hid behind closest Fearing torture and losing loved ones Our only last right is writing poems with encrypted messages its sad but we have learned to live with it We are here, we just are. ŠBlackbirdzen
An apology letter to my community It takes a village to raise a child Everyone knows that And I was a child that this village just couldn‟t understand! So I would like to officially apologise. I apologise for being a weird child One that preferred books to games, Logic to dreams, Puzzles and schemes, Sums and scrabble, Science and dabble, Math to playing dress up I‟m sorry I never played with dolls Tried out cooking in old tin cans, Tried skipping rope, Caught, killed, cooked and ate a pigeon Or played in the street Till I made piles of dirty laundry for mommy to clean I‟m sorry I didn‟t eat enough sweets Or break too many bones All these bumps and bruises Don‟t seem to be enough for you. I apologise for going to the library after school everyday I should have spent my time doing something more constructive, Like dating and getting myself pregnant. I wholeheartedly apologise for confusing you Because my accent didn‟t give away my true origin First I was American, then British and maybe even Australian Why couldn‟t I have made it easier for you? And learnt to articulate in one of those BEE accents This might have had something to do with me spending my primary years in public schools After all state education is at the top of the educational food chain I‟m sorry I didn‟t fall for the sugar daddy trend, The minister of finance and recreation trend I‟m sorry I didn‟t make enough female friends I could have at least learnt how to put make-up on right It would be an amazing enhancement to my “lacking” beauty I‟m sorry I was never self-conscious Never cared what people thought or said…
I‟m sorry I always kept my head held high Was never insecure, never had a self-esteem issue. That must have been a slap in the face Considering how often you told me My full figure wasn‟t beautiful enough I‟m sorry that although my parents separated My dad still fetched me for Christmas Sent me some money and took me out for lunch sometime I‟m sorry that we challenged your conventions I‟m sorry I wasn‟t another statistic Of another girl whose father skipped town I apologise for being the Problem Child Or was I the Menace of our community The one who challenged the norms, The one who was always different And I apologise to my mother, Whom after she spent years working to give me a better future, Looked me straight in the eye And told me I embarrassed her around people Because I was like a walking encyclopaedia I apologise that after all of these years I have never apologised for who I am I never felt the need to conform, Submit and be another Barbie Doll. So I am so terribly sorry Because maybe you‟ve heard Or maybe you haven‟t but it‟s true I LOVE HER More than anything else in the world I love her many alter egos And I love her perfect imperfections I AM DEEPLY, FIERCELY AND UNCONDITIONALLY INLOVE WITH REABETSWE BOTLE MOKONE AND EVERYTHING THAT MAKES HER WHO SHE IS. AND I WILL NOT, CANNOT APOLOGISE FOR THAT! © REABETSWE “LIMIT” MOKONE
The African Jedi He‟s a young, proactive, and black proud African, Always on the move, so he‟s always travelling, Trying to keep up with the news, but not with the trends, Because he sees beyond what‟s really happening. He has the eye of a tiger, and the eye of an eagle, So he clearly perceives the struggles of his African people Struggles that have given birth to stereotypes So he chooses to address these struggles and fight whenever his voice reaches a mic. Whenever he touches a mic it turns into a light-saver, So he‟s always ready to fight for the poor , not famous, Always prepared to fight the enemy, While protecting and saving the light that shines in the minds of change-makers. He fights with positive words and positive actions, Paradigm shifts that leave stereotypes crashing, With so much truth because that‟s what‟s lacking, And sometimes, his words paint vivid pictures That are so real and so authentic like the black version of Michael Jackson. He has the heart of an African soldier, So he fights with the African continent on his shoulders. Never does he think of giving up Because he knows the war and struggles are far from over. He fights his battles with so much self esteem, And he knows that success can be found in his genes, He won‟t stop till freedom and justice reign supreme: Because he‟s sick and tired of the same people selling him dreams that don‟t come true like pyramid schemes…
The African Jedi‟s mind cannot be contaminated, With popular trends that are constantly overrated, That‟s why he never loses focus when he speaks and fights With words that will live on after he dies, or gets assassinated. So pay close attention whenever he speaks, Observe his jedi tricks and the quickness of his feet, Support him through the cold, storms and the heat, Learn from his ways, and may the force be with you and him until our enemies face defeat. © Thuthukani Ndlovu
Authors of Emancipation Contributors
Full Name: Tessa Muller Stage Name: PopheTezz Nationality: South African Links: Reviews on the Poetry Collection Dedications of colour
Full Name: Christopher Sean Chigumba Stage Name: CS Chigumba Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: www.outerimagesinnerthoughts.wordpress www.the1980.org
Full Name: Charlotte Addison Stage Name: Charlotte Addison Nationality: Ghanaian Links: (Facebook) Charlotte Addison www.rytersdiary.blogspot.com
Full Name: Thomas Masingi Stage Name: Tom Ravenous aka Swahim Nationality: South African Links: Tom Ravenus
Full Name: Bridgette Karabo Mogoje Stage Name: Bridgette Mogoje Nationality: South African Links: N/A
Full Name: Sandhya Padmanabhan Stage Name: Sandhya Padmanabhan Nationality: Indian Links: Poets International
Full Name: Chukwuka Jupiter Usi Stage Name: Jupiter Nationality: Nigerian Links: www.jupiterusi.wordpress.com
Full Name: Hlengiwe Ndlovu Stage Name: Omuhle Nationality: South African Links: Kovsie Extravaganza 2014
Full Name: Thuthukani Ndlovu Stage Name: Thuthukani Ndlovu Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: www.radioactivetuts.blogspot.com
Full Name: Adel Matshediso Mokanyane Stage Name: Adel Nationality: South African Links: (Facebook ) Adel BlaqSoul Mokanyane
Full Name: Usha Krishnamurthy. R Stage Name: Usha Krishnamurthy. R Nationality: Indian Links: Poets International
Full Name: Tshiamo Malatji Stage Name: Tsiamo Malatji Nationality: South African Links: (Facbook) Tshiamo Malatji
Full Name: Osei Bonsu Patience Stage Name: Nana Ama Nationality: Ghanaian Links: (Facebook) The Poets Without Limits www.poemhunter.com
Full Name: Bonlam Machiha Stage Name: Highflyer 1 Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: (Facebook) Bonlam Machiha
Full Name: Elizabeth Semende Stage Name: Elizabeth Semende Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: (Facebook) Elizabeth Liz Semende ; (Facebook) Zimbabwe Poet United
Full Name: Zenani Masuku Stage Name: Blackbirdzen Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: (Facebook) Zenani Masuku www.blackwordzen@wordpress.com
Full Name: Reabetswebotle Mokone Stage Name: IAmLimit Nationality: South African Links: (Facebook) IAmLimit ; Kovsie Extravaganza
Full Name: Nyakallo Posholi Stage Name: Azanian Nile Lily Nationality: South African Links: (Facebook) Azanian Nile Lily
Full Name: Goitsemang Mvula Stage Name: The Nurturer Nationality: South African Links: www.the-nurturer.blogspot.com
Full Name: Cathrine Chidawanyika Makuvise Stage Name: Cat Nationality: Zimbabwean Links: (Facebook) Cathrine Chidawanyika www.kalabashmedia.com
Thank you