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The darker the berry the sweeter the seeds
plant them because you sow what you reap.
My skin is magical you see...for I am a special kind of breed.
When I'm in the sun my melanin boils, plus heat is good for my ***** coils.
A shade darker I've just became...
From honey brown to a cocoa shade.
Time to untwist my bantu knots and free my natural fro.
The curly crown of victory as my melanin glows. I strut through the grasslands in tune with my inner goddess. My legs are thick and long, so now its time to flaunt this.
shaking my hair from left to right & pump my fist in the air.
Wish I was alive in the civil rights, but then I wouldn't be hear.
People they envy my complexion, they wish they had my perfection. But honestly you can't hate on something God gave.
Melanin queen, you reign in the lands.
Zion queen, lets do a foreign dance.
Melanin runs within my veins and pores.
Melanin I love to be, I'm wading
in the shores.
Janine Jacobs Oct 2016
the dutch colony ascended on our shores
replacing traditional african education on culture
with teaching slaves how to pray

we saw the deterioration of black schools
and state-mandated segregated curricula
whites being taught better than blacks
who was only destined for subservient jobs

policies of apartheid birthed the bantu education
and later forced us to learn languages
which was not our native tongue
the youth could no longer be silenced
soweto uprising saw them dying for the cause

we have protested throughout the decades
silenced by the apartheid government
simply ignored

with Mandela’s release we saw liberation, freedom, democracy
and a single education system, we were finally equal
however the legacy of black inferior education left a deep scar
which has still not healed
our parents not able to give us the education they were denied

now students are holding the government accountable
who promised free education for a vote
the movement trending as #feesmustfall

anger expressed by burning premises, striking and rioting
i believe in the cause but who are you really hurting?
why destroy the very universities that you are fighting for?
Sipaa Adriani Jun 2019
Rasanya tubuhku seperti ditikam jutaan kali
Ragaku,perlahan mati
Rasaku hancur tak bertepi
Dan kau si bajingan,yang ku dambakan
Yang selalu ku beri pujian
Yang detik ini masih pertahankan
Tapi malah membunuh ku secara perlahan

Aku benci hadirmu yang selalu membayangi diri
Disaat ku mulai melangkah kan kaki
Sejauh mungkin, melupakan kau
Dan rasa kita yang perlahan mati

Tolong,untuk kali ini
Jadilah bajingan yang sedikit punya rasa baik hati
Bantu sedikit aku memulihkan raga ini
Bantu aku sedikit percaya diri
Bahwa kau memang sudah sepantasnya tak di sisi
Pergilah jauh dan tak perlu lagi kau kembali disini

Rasaku sudah mati
Sejak kau memilih berlalu pergi
Aku benci
Tapi aku mencintai
Jim Davis Nov 2018
Our eyes filled with wonder
Our minds twisted in change
Much like hobbits going afar
Then returning to sweet home
Our lives were changed forever

We rode slow and flew so fast
In tin cans from here and to there
Never taking off our shoes
Hardly touching the ground
Hardly touching Africa

Hiding behind camera lens
Wearing our face in masks
As a people not African black
Who worry not the future
Living easily in time’s moment

Like sardines aligned in tight
Wild creatures within confines
Electricity, steel, and wire
Tall fences stopping escape
To other worlds and realms afar

Except the leopards of night
Who easily roam across
All defined or artificial borders
Escaping cramped tin cans
Basking in Africa’s buttery light

Except for our African guide
With Christian name of Dexter
But named actually as
Tichayambuka Nekutenda
Nenyasha Chikerema

More comfortable sleeping in
Deep bush amongst beasts
Without down comforters,
perfumes, socks, or shoes
Living life in happy quiet freedom

A man raised speaking Bantu
in a small Shona tribe
Born in the Zimababwan village
Of Mutekedza in Mashonaland
East in the Chivhu Area.

From his father’s family
Given a totem of Zebra Brown
Then recited in love poem daily
by his proud mother
To affirm him as a man

Although he must also
be like the leopard
Unconfined in simple borders
Or tin can walls all around
Able to traverse the world

We as tourists were and are
Salty, smelly, near rotten sardines
I see him smile
And I laugh, and I know
Ndino ziva anorarama se  mbada


©  2017 Jim Davis
Notes:  The last line in Shona language means “I know he lives as a Leopard”
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


Do you remember one era in Kenya?
During the dark days of dictatorship
When Daniel arap Moi
Was the tyrannical president of Kenya
And darkness of leadership
Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño
When forty district commissioners
Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins?
Whose main work was to spy and terrorize
As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy
Yoke of state terror of tribal torment
When the president claims that
He was not aware of such tyranny,

When we used to sing a lame poem
Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo!
On empty stomachs with no hope of food
No hope of jobs or even education
Street children swelling on the street
In total political nonchalance of arap Moi
As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths
In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was
Overfunded by the poor tax payers money,

Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are
With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience
As you are armed to teeth with modern education
**** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy
Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices
The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya
Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever
Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president
Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya,
Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser
Ignore him and embrace Kenyans
For common future happiness
Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different
He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli
His full badness is measured in absurdity
Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed
Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders
Of Kenya of yore and today,
Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became
A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension
Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap
Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial
Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing
He looks for them on daily circadian
But once he nears their political pigeonhole
Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga!

President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect
You won’t get a pretext to say that
I was not aware or not informed
Please dear darling of the people
The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes
Novate Moi with the people
And your legacy will smile.
Players,
Upon people’s weaknesses they play.
Tramplers,
Upon people’s happiness they trample upon.

They preach,
Oh they preach,
Preachers of men,
Preaching their manifestos.

Their mass oppressions,
A whipstroke of slavery,
Keeping freedom away,
Allowing unspoken speeches.

Mr. Government!
Your planting of truth,
Yet acting lies,
Like Lucifer upon earth.

Our lost lands,
The cornering of leaders.
Our cherished freedom,
The bounds of greedy mortals.

Their moral compass,
A dumpling for gutters.
The words of restructuring,
A lie they tell to sleep at night.

The revolting of souls,
A bribery round the corner.
The dawn of a new day,
A shutting down of a never casted dye.

The Bantu they throw at us,
An education of their disloyalty.
Equality they preach,
Yet enjoying the fruits of our labour.

Our heroes past,
A burden dropped,
To be forgotten,
Yet remembered for belly sake.

Me, My belly and I,
A stomach infrastructure,
Catering only to the rich,
Yet diminishing the poor.

The controllers of affairs,
Dictating one’s future
Offering obedient slaves,
A slaughtering for their ****** souls.

Their theatre signatory,
A passing for comedy.
Our leaders,
A legacy of betrayal.

The citations of a bad fruit,
Their forever plantings,
Bringing over odour,
Of sadness and slavery.

An act of niceness,
Yet taking my bones at every given chance.
Giving us no choice,
Yet claiming we have no bounds.

Stirring us along
Giving us hope
Talking of a bright light,
Yet sinking in your treacherous torture.

Stealing of freedom from our lips
Pushing us into the dark quarters
Digging our early graves,
Yet cometh like a Redeemer.

Telling us of your democracy,
Yet ripping off our fundamental rights.
Your dictatorship,
Creating our unfree society.

Coming out,
Telling us of our victorious times,
A bribery to generations,
Yet helping to dig out graves.

Giving heart-warming patriotic speeches
Telling us not to be afraid,
Portraying tunnels of hope,
A bribery we didn’t reject.

Your illusion of a god-complex
Crushing everything in your path
Giving false hope
A mockery we carry on our foreheads

Our daily tyrants,
Walking freely,
Taking slaves,
Yet leaving no man to rise.

We envisaged a better tomorrow
Leaving the past behind
Creating new dreams
A dream you cut short

Our pens as placards
Establishing dictatorship
Safeguarding a revolution
Writing hopes of tomorrow

Your speeches
Bringing apathetic graves
Letting out your brutality
Showing life’s forces

You stand on the hill
Shouting your command
We all gather in fear
Singing silently “dictatorship free us now”

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
This is me telling the story through poetry how leaders in Nigeria behave.
Cameiyah Aug 2017
Her skin is a creamy vanilla
She lies beneath a tree, it's a willa
Her eyes like two deep pools of chocolate that you could get lost in.
She looks different from others, but she's just like us within.

She unravels her beautiful bantu knots
She let her natural, *****, thick curls go
Just like the wind, she goes with the flow
But something that's more beautiful than her, ....are her beautiful thoughts
Yulia Surya Dewi Mar 2018
Bangsa pribumi di era modern
Memaksa batin untuk jadi keren
Sudah lewat aku di zaman batu
Ku langkahkan kaki di zaman baru
Aku tidak tahu cara naik bus
Yang aku tahu adalah kursi bertikus

Oh jarak..
Jarak yang membuatku berpisah
Aku rindu suasana desa yang indah

Oh jarak..
Sampai kapankah aku gelisah
Aku gundah tidak tahu arah

Oh jarak..
Selamatkanlah aku
Selamatkan aku dari rasa putus asa

Aku takut..
Aku takut pada gedung besi berasap
Aku takut pada mesin yang berjalan
Aku takut pada benda panjang beruap

Siapakah aku disini?
Siapapun tolong bantu aku
Siapapun keluarkan aku dari sini
Siapapun tuntunlah aku

Oh Tuhanku..
Berikanlah Petunjuk-Mu
Tidak ada yang lain selain Diri-Mu
Aku disini hanya pencari Ridho-Mu


-Kediri, 19 Maret 2018-
Diadema L Amadea Jan 2019
ada yang berkata untuk urusi urusanmu sendiri
ada juga yang menganjurkan kita saling bantu
oiya, kita juga disalahkan karena apapun yang kita pilih
semuanya akan selalu berjalan seperti itu

oiya sebenarnya disini;
tidak ada yang benar benar salah
tidak ada yang benar benar betul
jika dilihat dari banyak sudut pandang

jika memang berkata;
biarlah, orang itu sendiri sendiri
ya harus konsisten
tidak usah memaksakan kehendak suatu makhluk.
tuhannya ? tidak usah ditanya.
tidak sopan.
Kyle J Jul 2016
One night in a blacked out dream , I saw the queen.
****, ****, ****; strong and dark with no cream.
She keeps me up.
Beautiful art unframed and unfinished; begging a young Picasso -
To put the touch of his brush.

Kilo for kilo she's my addiction.
As the queen, I hit her 'gram' with the smoothest diction.
Not trying to collide but I'm lovin' her friction -
And despite impending demise and my lates affliction;
I see in her royal eyes, "Is he real or fiction?"

Those brown sugar eyes, they won't gleam - Even if a young prince got green and clean.
She discerns what glitters and what ain't gold.
She doesn't know much about love but she knows about soul.
That's why her heart isn't package and her time ain't sold.
She walks as if she's in glass slippers italicizing a beautiful woman in bold.

She's the dopest so she's never fiend and she's never leaned.
That black never cracked and her aspirations, she's never quit.
She a lil bit thick but she ain't never bricked, all net my baby;
I'll never pass her, that's just swish.

She got that Bantu up in Bambu -
Don't get it twisted.
That melanin poppin', not her cherry,  she won't risk it.
She put Lynch on the bench - ain't no ***** ever ran through but they ran to.

She's the reincarnation of her mama, but she embodies her grandma.
She got the realest figure, before never after the comma.
Divined by God, designed by God;
Her eyebrows stay 'fleek' and her edges stay laid.
Her ideal man: good cook, a good lover and a good maid.
She always talks about living on her own, she actin' so grown.
She just wants a house with a man who knows how to go out but stay home.

To her, her womb is like the treasure of the Earth,
Don't talk about planting no seed unless you nurturing the dirt.
She's all about last, cause her last is her first.
And for all her dinner dates she hopes they end in desert.
By twelve midnight, she adorns her head-cloth, head wrap, head scarf -
Don't hit up her FaceTime unless you just want to talk.

She's the queen of all colors, she wears that black like it's true.
Stan Gichuki Jan 2016
My mind, my soul, my intuition was dead,
Woke up this morning and found a letter that read;
‘I rise, in the depth of solitude I am who I am,
In the spirit of humility I am who I am,
In the spirit of togetherness I am, Nelson Mandela.
In the face of revolution I am Dedan Kimathi,
In the wake of National Pride, I am Kenyan,
I am Bantu by Origin,
and in the face of love, I am weak.’
A letter written by me, for me!!!
Before being human, I am POET,
I strive to lead within the legion of wits,
To dissent decency and embrace love,
I cry for my people,
I serenade my fear to give birth to courage,
Fuse language and my soul in this verbal marriage,
I shine when gloomy,
I blend in when glowing…
I heed to the untold tale,
and when on stage,
I need to unfold a spell,
That cultivates in the mind,
These words are but a feeble extension of my might,
I say what I want to say and you listen,
You applaud,
I do not want your claps,
I don’t want your cheers,
I want you to listen,
I am sharing myself here,
I am telling you my painful secrets,
Letting you feel my joy…
Can you hear my silence?
Do you see my memory?
I have stripped myself bare for you,
I have swallowed my pride and I am struggling with constipation,
Hi there beautiful young lady,
Do you like what you see?
Are these words an extension of my skin?
For even when naked, I still hide an aura of mystery.
When you make love to more than one person,
Every moan bleeds poetry,
Every touch aches for a punch line,
Every ****** begs for a harder ******,
and when your eyes roll back,
and you splash your words on the walls of their minds,
Every skin begs to cuddle with your lyrical prowess,
I turn a blind eye to social injustice,
Yet I pray my people are treated well,
Do not look at me with that suspicious eye,
You don’t know who I am,
I did not bomb your brother,
I do not fight for any terrorist group,
I am not a representation of a stereotype,
You cannot blame me yet I fear just like you,
Hurt just like you,
I hide from the jaws of terror just like you,
You struggle to understand me,
I understand you,
In the face of fear, you know no human,
Your eye sees only who it suspects is friend or foe,
I understand you because I know,
On the third blow of the trumpet,
Even the son will abandon his mother…
Why judge me for the shade of my skin,
Texture of my hair????
I am who I am.
I love those who love me back,
In the dark caves of solitude,
Hidden on the platters of eternal euphoria,
I then found a loving embrace,

So I march on clinging to what I don’t understand,
Get confused by what I strive to understand,
Stand under my weak heart,
What attracts me I don’t know?
We find beauty in non-existent things,
Show me beauty and I will give you the flowers when you can still smell them.

I still rise,
For I am who I am,
A son who loves his mother,
Is driven by ambition,
Even Grisham knows,
it is past the time to ****,
onto the time to heal,
You do not need to understand this painless persona,
My words are my impractical scheme for social improvement,
I do not curse,
Because when it hurts so badly, humans’ mistake the truth for profanity …
I have hit my poetic falsetto,
I spill the last few drops of this ink…
I live you with this poem,
A temporary forever,
You do not need to understand this hopeless persona,
You don’t see the poem. It was not written for your feeble intellect.
I take center stage,
My words, my halo,
I speak,
I speak because I exist,
I said I speak because I exist,
You will always find me next to your conscience,
My words echo, my rants roar,
My whispers soothe, my cry begs for your embrace,
I sing to fallen angels,
I am who I am,
I speak because I exist,
Before I exist, I am POET
I Am Who I Am
Esethu Mahlumba May 2016
AZANIA
I Azania ikruqukile kukubanjwa
I Azania idiniwe ziimbumbulu ezisuka kutshaba
I Azania  iphelelwe ngamandla okubamba iintlanganiso
Iminyaka elandelelanayo kungekho nkqubela phambili
I Azania iphalele ngoku kukusebenzela nina, mabhulu,bantu abamhlophe.ABELUNGU.
Pha ezidolophini
I Azania idikiwe kukunigrumbela igolide
I Azania ifuna ukugrumbela iintsana zayo igolide
I Azania idiniwe, I Azania idiniwe
I Azania ikruqukile kukudanduluka kunye nokulila.
Middle East Future
I have not written anything today, why should I? The future
in the Middle East is clear there will be a rapprochement
between USA and Iran, naturally two countries are surprisingly
alike both sublime and with a streak a tendency to violence.
That leaves us with it will leave the before the Palestinians will
refuse to be Bantu state and we will have an Israel stretching
from the Mediterranean to Jordan, most of the people will
Be none Jews and since Israel is a democracy it will have to accept
this new situation. Israel will in the future become just another
Middle Eastern state that has nuclear weapon they cannot use
without erasing their own people as a race. It will be a bitter irony
if they did what the **** tried to do.
Saudi Arabia can go back being a kingdom with ten thousand princes
that have just moved out of the tents, but Jews will survive in Iran.
So there is nothing to write about except the vines are greening and
I’m taking a car dealer to court, it has taken me since 2004 to get here
because I can’t afford use a lawyer, justice takes time and is costly.
gadisunja May 31
Hari ini tadi,
dokter bantu keluarkan empat buah batu dari empeduku.

Suatu hari nanti,
mana tahu dokter atau entah siapa itu
akan bantu keluarkan sebuah nisan dari tubuhku?
hari-hari Sunja di rumah sakit
You were the Phoenix of that great nation
You died that it may rise
The idea of freedom was your creation
And thus it lives e'en after your demise!
In memoriam!
Alfa Oct 2018
I see beautiful black skin
Radiating from you
Bantu knots upons your head
And a familiar accent.
I go up to you and say hey
You look at me weird
I mistook you for my friend
She is dead.
A poem I wrote about my friend who went missing for months and found murdered, I once forgot she was dead and went up to a person who looked like her and said hello, the person looked at me weird and left. I felt hollow after.
Rueben Pitts Jul 2017
Her
Unapologetic and flawlessly she is drenched in the very essence of beauty called melanin, Her body has a glow as if the sunlight shrouds and gently embraces her skin,
with a complexion  so deep and warm my eyes can just lay on it days on end,
  I escape this trance only to find myself captivated by her mere presence all over again,
  mesmerized by how she transcends the modern notions of perfection,
  you know the notions that tends to sleep on a darker complexion?
  and no, I don't want it to sound like that I'm sleeping on your complexion
  but everyday I picture your skin as a tone I wouldn't mind waking up and drifting away to,
  Miss melaninated lullaby your beauty rangs true.
  Crowned with royalty and rebelous in nature, her hair defies gravity only adhering to the Queen's imagination,
   "black girl magic" there is no other explanation,
    think about it, she waves her hands and then ****; her poofy hair turns into a new creation,
    bantu knots, braids, 2 strand twist, her hair is a work of art and she's an artist, her hair imitates the heavens and she's the goddess....
S R Mats Aug 7
In my ancient history,
A mother stands over her daughter
Twisting her hair into Bantu knots.

The young men gather,
Who built the Great Enclosure
With the strength of mighty warriors.

I am 'umuntu,' a person, I embrace
The ancient beauty in their face,
Their shape, the color of race,

My ancient heritage.
nabilah Jun 2020
-
Dia habiskan beberapa malam untuk menangis
Sendiri ditemani kesedihannya yang tak mau pergi
Mengutuk diri karena lemah hati
Hangatnya hilang lantaran yang dirasa hanya dingin
Jatuh seribu kali, bangun seribu satu kali
Dia bantu dirinya sendiri untuk berdiri
Sudah tugasnya menjadi selalu terlihat gigih
Kesepian sudah menjadi teman baik
Hampa seakan sudah memiliki tempat khusus dalam diri
Tidak apa-apa menjadi lemah malam hari
Asal kembali tertawa besok pagi
Dan seterusnya begitu lagi
Tidak sabar menanti rasa yang akan mati
Carson Apr 2021
Slanderous tongues wont halt my steps,
Wont halt my stampede of forwardness,
As wisdoms guidance have n will ensure this,
Descended from Highest Highs,
While those who are doubters,
Will be bandwagonists,
Facades they are,
Always known by what flows from their lips,
Especially During Moments wear n tear,
Via
Solid Amounts of Kalinago, Bantu, Zulu, Taino Courage,
Will stamp out fear,
Against Critics,
I will persevere !
a Bantu language
pure steel or iron bracelet
a first name, Kara
Chuck Kean Apr 2020
All That Matters Is You

  Where I work this is the way we roll
This is deeply planted in our soul
There’s things in this world we can’t control
We give comfort and we console

I do what I do because I care
I transport patients in a wheelchair
Still health care it’s the Cross I bear
Proudly my uniform I wear

From total knees and hips too
Drug abuse and alcoholics and the flu
But now the world is a scary new
But one thing will remain true

Doesn’t matter your religion Lutheran, Hindu
Doesn’t matter your race, black, white, Bantu
Doesn’t matter your political view
All that matters is you

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 04/03/2020
All rights reserved
Anthony Pierre Apr 2022
Slash and burn!
Frankincense
And Myrrh
Like shorgum
Like maize
You, amaze me

Matzo's to eat
First night
Is law, Pat Yisrael

Netting up, nothing
Keep birds out
Bring birds in
Who? Yao? Nothing!

Nothing like bantu
Nothing like kin
He parts the Red Sea
Knesset
Bantu Bhat Nov 30
How can I blame her for breaking my heart,
When I was the one who let her in from the start?
I opened up the doors, and she slipped right through,
And now I'm left to pick up the pieces of me and you.

How can I blame her for the tears that I've cried,
When I was the one who filled my eyes with her sight?
I was blinded by love, and I couldn't see,
The heartache that awaited me.

How can I blame her for destroying me,
When I was the one who lost myself in loving her recklessly?
I gave up my sense of self, my identity, my pride,
And now I'm left to wonder why...
~Bantu
Chuck Kean Aug 2020
All That Matters Is You

  Where I work this is the way we roll
This is deeply planted in our soul
There’s things in this world we can’t control
We give comfort and we console

I do what I do because I care
I transport patients in a wheelchair
Still health care it’s the Cross I bear
Proudly my uniform I wear

From total knees and hips too
Drug abuse and alcoholics and the flu
But now the world is a scary new
But one thing will remain true

Doesn’t matter your religion Lutheran, Hindu
Doesn’t matter your race, black, white, Bantu
Doesn’t matter your political view
All that matters is you

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 04/03/2020
All rights reserved
Do BLM? ABSOLUTELY!!!
But I tell you the current BLM
Movement is not about BLM.
The soul purpose of this movement
Has one focus.
That focus is to destroy America!!!
Please be careful of what you are really
Standing up for.
Getting behind this movement though
It may be good intentions is not what we
Want or need in America.
This is telling everyone that you stand
For and believe in the destruction of America. It doesn’t show or mean that
You stand for or believe that BLM.
God Bless all races!!!
Bantu Bhat Nov 28
As her finger caressed the trigger,
My heart harmonized its final beat with her name.
My soul, a captive of her love, prepared to escape,
Breathing in the fragrance of our memories, one last time.

The bullet, a merciless messenger, pierced my chest,
Shattering the sanctuary where our love resided.
A crimson river flowed, a testament to our passion,
As my life force ebbed, our love remained, unyielding.

My body surrendered to gravity's gentle pull,
A pool of blood forming, a poignant symbol of our love's depth.
The silence that followed was a requiem, a lament,
For the love we shared, the memories we crafted.

In my final gaze, her beauty was forever etched,
A masterpiece of memories, our love's indelible mark.
My mind, a canvas of our moments, replayed our story,
As my eyes closed, a soft smile whispered our love's sweet glory.

My soul, now free, soared on the winds of our love,
Grateful for the time we shared, the memories we wove.
In death, our love remained, a flame that burns bright,
A beacon guiding those who seek the beauty of true love's light.
~Bantu

— The End —