#motherafrica
I am the product of two distant worlds
But my tongue dances with only one
In my dreams, I hear my Mother’s cries
Praying for her lost daughter’s return
I am too much for one country to swallow
But not enough for the other’s acceptance
Yet here I stand, with my heart in the middle
Of a custody battle with unclear intentions
I cannot choose between the two
Without erasing half of my story
I cannot undo all this writing
Stained on my blood and bones
This heart, of plantains and sweet tea,
Fights a war inside her own body
I’m unsure of where to call home
When I’m not wanted by either country
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
He fingerprints my melanin skin
I bleed lust, i trust
Alien tongue playing a seductive touch on my **** lips,
Dropping my guard, gulping every ******
Hard pacing in and out of me, i let him an inch closer to my heart,
As i pick a scent of city life on his chest,
His skin so smooth it mends my dents and cracks, my perfect match,
My soul dances in the light with the freedom of a mad man,
Dead brain this sweet pain, whispers pleasure......
I chose him and left all behind
The lights of the city held a pride
Which i would bask in beside him
See..... I lost me
Imbeko packed and left me lonely,
Getting high in dark spaces of the street lights,
Yelling die, this was not living was just trying to survive
Gutter life, suffer i, had to sell my body away,
Stained my soul, my conscience couldn't stay,
Mr urban see had hit the cherry got his share of merry and walked away,
Finally unmasking the veil of deceit, i saw the true colours,
But i couldnt go back to ravaged community of round mud houses,
Pride was the bouncer that kept me inside,
Had to die here and i did
But no i am not that young woman
Didn't let go of this culture
Content with these village ethics, nature's majestics,
Completely free from these misguided pledges
I would rather fetch water on earth's edges,
Why try mold into world classes, african being is rare,
And i am that her, who brushes my black hair with pride,
You.. yes you, your african hair is nice,
I rap myself in colours of native love,
Catching the cries of early *****
Not waking up with a bunch of different strangers in my bed,
You might think i am misguided, i am not driven by philosophers of english communities
In which the music is within us.... In the untamed soils of mother africa
So i keep his fingerprints away from my beautiful skin
Cause i never wanna be where she has been
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 3:37 AM UTC