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Desmond the poet Sep 2017
Oh, you seed of mankind.
You who reside in the same Coloured white *****.
You carry the ***-determining chromosome.
Before union with female egg, human colour was same.
After fertilization, emerged different coloured humans.

Oh melanin, you who determine our skin colour.
You went as far as differentiating our hair colour.
What have you done?
Are you to blame for racial discrimination?
Maybe blame theory of evolution.

Oh no I blame you mankind.
God gave men brains of a kind.
The kind, that knows wrong from right.
In the image of God, mankind was created.
Colour was not restricted.

I urge mankind across all racial groups.
A plead to all *** groups.

There’s more to what you see in the mirror.
It was microscopically a seed within white *****.
We might differ racially, men and women.
We came from same coloured seed.
aurora kastanias Jan 2018
Grazin’ in the grass was mellow indeed
when you blew into your trumpet
blaring sounds of peace. What a trip!
Just watchin' as the world goes past,

you used to say playing notes of jazz.
Music of resistance for a tortured land
imbued in the blood of its natives bashed,
by the impudent high-handed little white man.

As your grandmother cared for you and miners
in illegal bars, piano keys enticed dreams of hope
for second class citizens silenced by oppression,
while the chaplain gave you your first instrument.

Little did you know the melodies you’d pour
on the rampant fires of blatant injustice.
Little did you know the strength you would instil
embodying possibilities, shedding light on the obscure.

Soweto blues you composed as Miriam gave
her voice to screaming mothers to cry out,
atrocities in town. Bring Him Back Home
you sang from afar until they did, and you

returned to see the prisoner walk free,
down the streets hand in hand with Winnie.
Only afterwards I heard your words and will
to show the people just how

wonderful and excellent they are.
A message I cherish and the reason why
many will remember you, your tune your smile,
as he who kept the torch of freedom alive.

A baobab tree has fallen indeed.
dedicated to Hugh Masekela
Àŧùl Oct 2016
Unluckily, I am an offspring of two different genotypes,
For it, I so often face the reverse apartheid by a faction,
That faction particular is omnipresent in this nation.

Unseemingly, extremely patriotic I do feel except during cricket,
They look, at my face and deduce that I am not one of them,
That I speak their tongue more eloquently doesn't count..

Up North, they think that my nose is a bit like a Dravidian,
But down South, they often think that I am an Aryan,
That boycotts me in this land of the Indian nation...
I often get another kind of Apartheid, the diehtrapA.

HP Poem #1181
©Atul Kaushal
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