"kunta" poems
So, how are you?
Hopefully, you don’t have that cough anymore,
Because that would be tough for me for sure.
So, how was your day?
You might be up again till the morning,
Because you have been thinking, writing.
So, how is your heart?
If it is hurting,
Don’t worry, I’m here to listen.
So, will you not ask how I am?
For you, that might not be a big issue,
While I’m here, so much missing you.
--Originally written in Winaray--
Ginmimingaw Ako Ha Imo
*Ano kumusta ka na?
Kunta diri ka na gin-iinubo,
Kun diri, masusubo gud ako.
Ano kumusta an imo adlaw?
Bangin nagpiniraw ka na liwat,
Pagpinanhuna-huna, pagsinurat.
Ano kumusta an imo kasing-kasing?
Kin malain it imo ginbabati,
Ayaw kabaraka, pwede man ako mamati.
Ano diri ka mangungumusta ha akon?
Para ha imo, waray la siguro,
Samtang ako adi, ginmimingaw ha imo hin duro.*
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Remember Wesley’s Theory. Remember they haven’t taught you everything.
And no one actually gives anything For Free. Don’t take it and expect to give nothing back.
They will beat it out of you. Spit back King Kunta even though you’ll feel nothing like royalty.
Google Institutionalized. The first example reads, The danger of discrimination becoming
Institutionalized.
Maybe they didn’t want to flat out say racism?
And instead pretend like u won’t try to climb over These Walls.
You in Trumps America now boy, everything ain’t just gonna be Alright.
You might wake up tomorrow, sign chained to your ankles, “For Sale”.
Momma never warned you. At least you don’t remember, you haven’t talked lately.
You never understood Hood Politics, found yourself on the wrong block
Too much change in your pocket tryna to figure out How Much a Dollar Cost
But the Complexion of your currency ain’t quite correct cuz
That’s when you realize The Blacker the Berry, the less like you.
You Ain’t Gotta Lie, you like where you are now.
Starting to think i belong and ****
But remember, even though you know how to **** a Butterfly, you’re just a Mortal Man.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 6:06 AM UTC
Default African,
Yes I am,
And a disgrace for that matter,
Yet African with Katekism,
I am supposed to be,
Come rain, sunshine or high waters,
I have betrayed you Africa,
I have 'back-stabbed' you in the face,
And spit rotten phlegm in the wound,
Giant mother,
With this badge of slavery I now proudly wear,
**** me.
Never have I washed my father, Or mother,
Never have I washed my grandfather or grandmother,
Neither of these have I ever dared looking after,
Yet today,
I assume total custodianship and curator-ship,
I take care of some grandfather and grandmother,
Somebody's father,
Somebody's mother,
Somebody's grandfather,
Somebody's grandmother.
Only yesterday I was told,
Your father and mother passed away last year,
And so did your brothers and sisters,
And they were all buried like dogs,
Their burials were the talk of town,
How could you let that happen,
How could you,
And I am these enermies' comfortable door mate.
My grandfathers were colonised,
Because of our rich land,
And now I have been extensively colonised,
Because of their pound,
Because of wanting to be a Westerner – overseas,
Away from you,
Continent of respect and dignity,
Continent of dance and song,
A continent pregnant with untold tales.
My sick mind has been colonised,
Graduating me into a nefarious modern commercial slave,
Just but an echo of an old tune,
A worse slave than my ancestor,
The Kunta Kintes,
I am a cheap voluntary slave,
Who has been gratuitously deserted by his values,
The African values.
I stand accused before myself,
I am a cumbrous culpable default African,
An African who has lost his ebullient Africanness,
A charlatan ********** African on a detour,
A dismantled, shameless self destroyed pimple,
A nauseating counterfeit second hand African,
An extraneous stain on Africa's underwear,
I am of as much value to Africa,
As is an over- used ****** to a filthy growth point **********
Regrettably, that is the African I have become.
How I wish I washed my father and mother,
How I wish I washed my grandparents,
How I wish I took care of them,
The wish is killing me badly,
I may as I have run away from you Africa,
But never from Africanness,
Litres of your blood flows in body pipes,
I am because you are,
I am a default African.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:01 AM UTC
Right in the dead of a very cold winter
When the tired slave's soul is ash gray
And the cotton plantation becomes whiter ,
Begins a poor slave's hard working day .
In Winter when the master makes a call
This was every slave's worse nightmare
It was time for his hard whips to fall
insurmountable pains he couldn't bare .
Snowballs are piled outside like cotton
His Wounds hurts but as usual he's told
Stay strong brother Kunta, just hold on
Just Stay calm till the barn is closed .
This is the mid of a cold bitter winter
And the crow of a **** heralds a sad day
A slave's prayer to God was a sad whisper
He needed strength to get pass this day.
follow me on twitter@ivanclappers
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Kings. Queens.
Consummation. Kids.
Chiefs of clans.
Children of chiefs.
Close knit communities.
Continued cycles.
Change.
Colorless crews.
Coins. Captures. Chains.
Chained to you.
Chained to the cruise.
**** me. **** he. **** she.
Check teeth,
Choose wisely.
Chastise. Cracked whips.
Change name:
Kunta, no Toby.
Change, charge.
Christ of captives,
**** them!”
No, **** him.
Continue evil.
Change.
Break chains.
Knots, no more.
No, change chains.
Lose claims.
Coax comfort.
Contradict. Corrupt.
Cascaded crucifixions.
Charred chandeliers.
Coerce without cognition of
Coming chaos
Of civic correction.
Civilians conform society.
Combatants conquer and confer.
Continue.
Cultural contributions.
Cultural appropriation.
Cultural controversy.
No complications.
No conversations.
Did not conceive,
Cannot convey.
Concede. Not Conceit.
Continue.
Kings cower before
Crowns clarify.
Kings killed.
Queens cope. Queens cry.
Queens say,
**** compliance!
**** cordial!”
Queens coordinate, combat,
Condemn, don’t compromise,
And command cessation
To corrupt civilization.
Queens continue
Coils, kinks, curls.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
The stage is set..
The red Light's on ,
The condition is right ,
It's time to shine my son !
The time has come,
The world is ready ...
Superstar Welcome home,
Do them ***** !
Become a sensation,
In you a star is born ...
You are my inspiration,
Blow the poetic horn,
The world's watching...
Just keep going !
Don't stop creating,
Keep up the grinding...
Maybe from the onset,
You will be wrong..
Don't you ever get upset,
Like kunta Kanti,be strong !
Flex your muscle...
And keep pushing ,
And own your hustle .
Like a scribe ,keep writing ...
Stay active,
Keep grinding,
Remain calm but be passive,
Some day you gonna make it !
Don't wait ,
keep pushing..
Don't ever Quit !
keep writing ...
Make yourself at home ,
Poetic Avatar ...
The time has come
Mr ball-pen superstar !
~Ivan Brooks Sr. ~
twitter @ivaclappers
#IvanBrookspoetry
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
My pen weighs
Heavy like the Roots of Kunta Kinte
The sweeter the juice
is what my kin say
An evening boost
for seasoning fruit
to get paid
You've seen me in bloom
for many a moon
so get saved
Pedal the petals to give praise
I get raised to get rays
A never ending cycle in the womb of what my pen lays
Shrouding word in mystery
Message too smooth for censoring
I read that it was written
They would ink our place in history
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
If only Kunta kanti had a camera phone
He would've captured many untold stories
stories of a sad slave girl sitting all alone
Sad stories of overworked slaves with worries .
Stories of ''Massa'' holding the Holy Bible
And in another hand the everpresent whip
There would've been images of souls no longer able
To work from dawn to dusk without a drop to sip .
If only Kunta Kanti had a remote controlled drone
Or a Facebook account to share stories and go LIVE
The world would've seen the master's no go zone
Where he buried the bodies of those no more alive .
Stories of the slave master's cruelty would've gone viral
And on the other hand exposed the ugly slave trade
He would've been seen as a vile man who lacked moral
Maybe a jail sentence because of the video Kunta made .
Maybe ,just maybe if Kunta Kanti had a camera phone
It would've caused a public outcry and a Black Lives Matter's rally
Al ,Martin Luther King III and all Black folks would've gone
The names and stories of all slaves would've been read at that rally!
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twitter @ivanclappers
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
I am Kunta Kanti, here is my story,
I came from the kingdom of Jubaru,
I'm the most famous Black male slave in history.
Before freedom and just before uhuru,
I came here chained as helpless as a slave
***** changed my identity and named me Toby
On my knees I begged my dreads not to shave
He did and from then on ,his rules I decided never to obey.
I was brought here chained from my toes to neck .
Lying in my own filths and panting for some air .
Look at how Massa's whips ruined my back ,
Many times in anguish I wondered if this was fair
Fair or not, the damage has been done,
I am a warrior, so for me don't you ever be sorry !
Someday my scars ,this cotton field will all be gone ,
I'm not Toby, call me Kunta Kanti , and this is my story !
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC