"afrikan" poems
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!
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
I always wanted to have a woman who has an Afro. One who is tall, afrikan, smart, sweet and soulful.
We finally met, we clicked, we vibe for a year. After that, we didn't talk for like six months. I moved on with a light skinned girl who was a blond,
But that natural black Afro always stayed in my mind.
It wasn't long till fate took me face2face in the same room to that Afro that I've been trying so hard and so long to forget.
But we was cool tho, she kept her distance, I kept mine...(We shared a lil bit of eye contact)
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
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
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Holding a conversation like I'm holding flowers. I saw only pleasure with my naked eyes; I bet she could've been a president cause she got bush... My fingers slipped slowely next to a cave similar to the one found in Oudtshoorn. And now she's breathing heavily as if we having an uphill conversation...
**** I'm so innocent I should've been a Judge...
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
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.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
My cat WOKE:
Petra Electra Perpetua.
I’m telling y’all, she massive woke;
lit, like wicked wick holy smoke.
She outsmart Christopher ******* dreamin’
teach a dog where a BONE at,
discern every demon,
(not to mention advanced forensics.)
She rise, she yawn, she stretch, she flex
then start cashin’ every other pet paychecks.
She charge per minute just to LOOK at her fur
while she sharpen her nails. My Petra purr . . .
Dogs be all: WOOF
She don’t even answer.
Scribe rhymed Arabic lyrics
while she beat a belly dancer
with her TAIL, pfffffft. . .
My girl don’t tag, she SPRAY.
Mark every wall, y’all . . .
Seen all over the hood, gnome sain?
Offer her Sheba, she like:
Won’t touch it. Give me that Meow Mix.
My girl teach Afrikan lioness about *****
*** on a paean, droppin’ lyrics like mice
other feline get fussy
my kitty get NICE.
TikTok your Instagram feed
right into her bowl.
My girl so woke,
save her own fanged soul.
Slip out the house—she gone.
Workin’ secret route to EGYPT.
Roast every priestess in Bastet city;
My kitty taught CLEOPATRA (u feel me?)
about *****
She scratch Catwoman, pounce on Robin
Batman wet his weak-ass mask, sobbin’.
My girl woke;
so woke she don’t nap, she sleep—
profoundly. Soundly. DEEP.
Apr 30, 2020
Apr 30, 2020 at 8:15 AM UTC
Dynamic in approach
So we approach
Till a black child can see his the spawn of Gods
Afrikan lords with no morals
Black is the colour of. Gods
We were born lords
Afrikvn lords
Young blacks with no struggle songs
We are bornfrees but we've lost our respect for freedom
Twerking not working,unemployed and hawking
Free your mindset,set your mind
Retrench from mild thoughts
We thought we attained freedom
What's freedom without religion?
What's freedom without God?
We are lords
Young afrikan lords
Black is the colour of Gods
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
I fix my actions by choosing my words right. But does that mean I have to Verb my way out of every reaction or should I noun to sound right?
I don't taste good on the ears and I don't sound right on the eyes either. You shouldn't teach a new dog old tricks is my only reason I shout at dark clouds to remind them that RED is the only colour to bleed.
Yet Red is For Danger, but does that mean Roses are dangerous too? And the secret smell behind how Jesus Rose, doesn't perfume me well...either way the thorns are the reason we bleed...
There's no police yet my hands are up. See, If what I say goes hand in hand with words of Christianity or any Afrikan Religion, it only does so because the language of fear and repetition of the mind has discovered it to be true. Because truth don't belong to a Culture or Faith or what so ever:
But how the truth lies naked in a bed of lies, is completely unacceptable...but if the police keep my hands in the air I might just catch the feeling of how religion feels like. Even if what I say about christianity doesn't go hand in hand with my actual beliefs..I have no other choice but to hold on, because if I fall I'd fall for nothing, unless if there be a woman I can sin with... **** *** is just everything I what so ever wishes to feel, because the Holy spirit hasn't been around much...
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC