Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2016
Carolin
Is this what love does , make
society reject us in a country
like ours ? Does it make our
bodies float over the waves
till our limbs tangle up and
we settle on abandoned
islands and rock ?

Does it have the power to
bring out the humanity in
us despite the beasts we
have underneath our
skin ?

Does it wash you clean
from your darkest sins ?

I'm not really sure about
what love does anymore.
But what I'm sure of is that
we won't need the society
or our families by our side.

We'll just need you and me
for an eternity most
probably* ~
 Apr 2016
bjynxthelyric
I sometimes flee to my cerebral and lock myself in like Cerebro, to escape the evils; devils manifested through the medium of people who would dare take the shape of amigos, how feeble. I minimized the beasts, except for my desert eagle; I almost blew my brain to pieces, to get some peace though. It turns out a harder feat than Jesus' feet on top of seas. Often what we need is too immaculate... to conceive. You perceive traditions of faulted knowledge from who deceives, now test the credibility of who creates what you believe. Learn about the authors of the books they're telling you to read and you can peep the reasons why I seldom see the truth in these. They robbed us of our history, then named us after who we served & cut our wrists when trying to reach for knowledge, now we grew some nerve. Ironically the pictures where the "****** be like" synonyms are similar to similes in rules they write on pyramids.
 Mar 2016
Poetic90's
I've learned to love my black face
to stand in adversity and embrace
all the god-perfected beauty that he has placed
on this resilient black face

resilient
able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching and being compressed

resilient
the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties the very definition of black and its beauty

the definition of 300 hundred years of slavery and then modern complicity to be black proud and beautiful openly

to live in a world where  European features are aspired to and to be black is frowned upon so if you have any black then you’re shunned

But we all know the stars couldn’t shine without the black space allowing them

Any giving moment our black greatness could swallow them  

And funny thing is the same black face you call a disgrace only to turn around and try to obtain the very thing you shunned  

so why is it that my curly hair is detrimental to society and my full lips cause controversy and my ****** curves taking as trends and stolen from me  

told that white is what is to be and white model thin is in
while you praise poseurs for their  artificial curves and fake tanned skin

yet through all the racial sin that dates back to 1910 when the KKK became known for lynching black men still then
we are able to stand in a crowd of hate and discrimination
the years of toil being perceived as an abomination and still love our skin

still rock our curly hair and color our full lips
still embrace our curvy hips
and embrace our “ghetto names”
and our ghetto trends
proud of it
proud of my face
yes I'm proud of my skin
because to be black is to be beautifully resilient

               By poetic90's
Let me just say if this poem comes off aggressive, or hateful that's not my intentions every race is beautiful I truly believe that. I just wanted to state the thing that makes the black race beautiful and in MY opinion, that is because after all the unfortunate things that happened  they are still able to be remarkable human beings and I think that is beautiful and resilient.
 Mar 2016
Beatrice Prior
Barren,
Open,
Plain,

No water,
No life,
No rain,

A cracked ground,
A dry river,
An old borehole,

Is this my life?
What's wrong with me?
This drought by itself,
Shall **** us all.
 Mar 2016
Minal Govind
Eyes wide open,
mind tightly shut,
we play victims to the postman
slotting news and letters
where little light filters through,
only as he sees fit.

Grotesque, gross manufacturers
spewing out page after page after page
of page three scandals -
of rich brats waxing lyrical,
American hip-hop DUIs,
fat cats cat-fighting.

Media
breast-feeds her gullible men
and milks the misfortunes.

We are part of the orchestra -
synchronised puppets looking to our
Master
to tell us
how
to read the notes.

Outside
there are flimsy flyers
advertising freedom
that have morphed into paper-planes,
but are impenetrable of ignorant masses,
flitting around the heads of the blind -
like cartoon characters after
being beaten up by
fists.

It is injustice.
Peel the scales from your eyes
and open the flood-gates, let forth the criticism!

Ask why an American singer's ten minute jail sentence
is more important than an Afghan girl's sentencing to be gang-*****.
Ask who the ten percent of the South African population are that receive sixty percent of our gross national income and how to alter that socio-economic gap.
Ask what is to become of learners who pass with thirty percent and if that is even possible when books aren't being delivered to schools.
Ask where one can find manifestos instead of accusations from each political party.

Do not let them dictate
your truths as
CAPITALISED LETTERS
with no urgency.
Do not let them confine
your insight to the ink on a page.

We are worth more than glossy sensationalism.
We are worthy of urgent honesty, transparency and enlightenment -
herein lies true freedom.

The liberation of the mind.
The uncoiling fist of a freedom fighter revealing the truth held within.

Amandla awethu.
 Mar 2016
Minal Govind
Never judge a book by its cover - they say.
Never believe a man's word over his actions - they say.
Never trust without reason - they say.

Why not? - I say.

Humanity (as a virtue) is being crippled by humans as they
stride
past the crippled man, hunched-back and desperate to extend,
to stand up,
to reach out
for that can of coffee at the grocery store.

As they violate, debilitate and penetrate our
minds by starving
us of
education
and
taunt
us
with
grant
money.

As they reduce our
complexity and significance and capabilities
to
stats
charts
numbers
lines
dots
.

As they stand, staring
up
eleven floors
at a flailing, failing student ready to
jump.

As they stereotype us
into boxes
that we use to hold our belongings -
our interior design.

As they spend more
money in one day
than they
pay
the gardener over
a week.

As they scoff down ketchuped french fries
after saying they were
starving
whilst they edge
forward
at the
robot
to
ignore
hungry begging children.

As they complain about being
alone
when the others around them are also
human.

That's just it.
The 'they' that we always speak of,
'They'
are us.

Unsheltered, not oblivious -
we see the misery, suffering,
pathetic pain -
but we are ignorant of the
barefoot woman with
a load
on her head and
a life
on her back,
asking for a
lift.

Some of us see the strain
but convince ourselves that our efforts would be
insignificant,
assure ourselves that it is
hopeless,
we are helpless.

Science and religion
seem like parallel lines but
they
converge on the point that
Mankind
is a superior species.
'Made in his image.'
'Increased cranial capacity, developed the ability to reason.'
Yet we use that magnificence to justify our
INcapability?

Advanced beings in an age of connectivity and
so disconnected from the essence of our own kind.
We decide
to be
alone.

There are rainbows of
'umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu'
but Ubuntu becomes
'don't want to'
and apathy is what makes us insignificant
- indifferent and inhumane.

To those who
can read this,
we
are hypocrites
- together -
which means that we are never alone and thus we are made
able.
We are not helpless, we just
Help Less.

I refuse to hope less in humanity
and allow us to be coaxed into an inferiority-complex
when we can have
progress and
success but

Only after we have
oneness.
 Mar 2016
jide oyediran
Oh Menah
Pride of africa
Pride of the blackrace
Beautiful like d morning rose
Timid eyes like the clean morning water of "ESSURUN"
Great sense of humour
Aspiring and ambitious
Hardworking and caring
Beautiful is AFRICAN and the black race
I see life in grey,
Where black does not stand alone without white,
Where the melanin of my skin does not factor as to how society sees me,
Where Mother’s language that rolls from my tongue is never labeled.


The only struggle I should face is between the relationships
I try to mount
...between pen and paper
…between my head and my heart.
Where common sense should trump any and every stereotype,
Where the only thing foreign is the knowledge I am yet to acquire,
Or the journeys I am yet to trudge upon.


Borne of the soil that bears some of the greatest fruits,
I am one of Her many blessings,
An Afrikan princess that is still rising to her majestic throne,
That seeks to reign over a land united
Behind the death of the rainbow;
The rebirth of decolonialism.
And casts all children of the corn of these chains,
Golden bronze bonds
That continue to enslave the people of true liberty, and prosperity.
The liberty that ascertains that no man shall ever be consumed
By their hunger for superiority.

For

I AM because WE ARE!
This is a collaborative effort between myself and @NuBlaccSoul which is to commemorate Human Rights Day (21 March)
 Mar 2016
Geno Cattouse
Old as creation. THE CRADLE.
This is Africa.
Musky and dank.THE GRAVE.
This is Afrika.

Vast as eternity.THE ECHO.
Echo.
This is Africa.
Verdant and green.
All points between.
STARVATION.Rampant.
This is Africa.

Machete vicious.Zebra and Gazelle.Heaven walks into hell.
Afrika as well

FREE UNTAMED.
And T.I.A
This
Is
Afrika.
 Mar 2016
tlhago
I'm the one with the golden horn
Speaking the truths of our forefathers buried under our feet
Having died digging gold for the white man

I believe I was born to teach
Teach the Afrikan child of their history
For to face your future
You must embrace your past

They labeled us the dark continent
After they had forced us to dig up the glistening black coal beneath our homes
Which covered our bare backs like the oil they were draining from under our homes
Our homes they took us away from and ran to the ground
To make way for their stone and steel castle

We still work like slaves we once were
To buy back our gold, silver, oil and souls

They buried the idea of us being nothing but slaves so deep in our subconscious
We have lost our conscience and fallen for their ways
We see a fellow child of the soil as a nuisance when they are begging for scrapes of food and warm clothes

They placed Afrika's offspring behind metal bars with the apes, hyenas, gazelles and watched from the distance with crocodile tears at the suffering "aborigines"

Listen to the song in the wind
Your ancestors are singing underneath the oceans they were thrown in
Your forefathers are singing underneath the soil beneath your step
Listen
Child.
.lets make everyday Africa Day
 Mar 2016
tlhago
I am an Afrikan

Not only because I was born in Afrika
But because Afrika was born in me

My name speaks of the beauty of the Afrikan landscape, animals and their interactions
I am of the Afrikan skin, soil, sky, valleys, rivers and mountains

My ancestors were born in Afrika My mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather, my great grandmother, my great grandfather and their forefathers were all born in Afrika
They died in Afrika
I was born in Afrika
I will die in Afrika

My ancestors knew no other land but Afrika
I know no other home but Afrika

I am a true Afrikan
Next page