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Michael Marchese Apr 2017
Prometheus ignites to spark this
Molotov to make his Marxist
On swine Fuhrer's Faux News tweet
Hashtag it #GorbachevWallStreet
'Cuz Putin's puppet Pinochet's
Whipped Creme de Kremlin's CIA  
From JFK to Allende
Like Russian roulette ricochet
I'll Trotsky through McCarthy's brains
Leave slain these ****** sugar Keynes   
Discred' the Fed’s six-figureheads
With strikes at dawn more red than Debs  
Still breakin' breads with Mulan Bouges
Makin' men of Khmer Stooges
Seein’ Rouge when Al Spans Greens
Potemkin loan wolf ponzi schemes
Who count the sheep like Philippines
Then Black Pearl Harbor GRANMA’s dreams...

Of Marilyn Monroes in store
Just off-shore ****** who **** the poor
A Glass of Steagall's broken trust
Half emptier than bowls of dust
In rust beltways still spewin’ fumes
As factories become Khartoums
No carbon footprint tax the hint
Of Amazon decays in Flint
Just pop the caps and drown in debt
Like Kent State drinkin' to forget
That cuttin’ class engenders race
Leaves glory, gold and God's disgrace
To slaughter Moor than Reconquista  
From Marti to Sandinista     
With Zapata sharin’ crops  
Till my Mexica heartbeat stops

I'm Pancho infiltratin’ villas
The Magilla of guerillas
In the midst of Congolese  
Same colonies, just different thieves
To me, my breed’s of landless deeds
So how you like ‘dem Appleseeds?
FReeducatin’ caves of youth
Fed Citizen’s United Fruit
‘Cuz now my open eye of Horus
Battle cries Grito de Lares
Che is centered in these veins
So my Ashoka takes the reigns
These Iron paci-Fists pack hits
Like Jimi on some Malcolm ****
Still Hajj mirages I barrage
The Raj with sheer Cong camouflage

Deployin' Sepoys on viceroys
And pol desPots’ in the employs
Of Tweedledums who run the slums
With country clubs of loaded guns
These Betsy Deez bear arms to school
Till no kids fly kites in Kabul
So gas-mask your Sharia flaw
I'll Genghis Khan Sheikoun it raw  
'Cuz refugees are rising
And we're anti-socializing
Subsidizing private party plans
Who take commands from ***** hands
These grand old klans coup klux control
Your diamond minds with mines of coal
An oil Standardized existence
Solar powers my resistance

******* sun of Liberty  
My fear itself is history  
Rewriting wrongs of Leo’s creed
In culture’s blood and vulture’s greed
An alt-right/all-white cockpile   
Stockpilin' human capital
In tricklin’ contests over spoils
Of the cotton-ceded soils
Jingos chained to Cruci-fictions
Swallowin' good Christian dictions
I spit Spanish Inquisition
Trippin' Socrates sedition
Droppin' Oppen's fission quest
For "now I am become death"
'Cuz G-bay pigs in-Fidel's sites
Flew U-2's into my last rites

These Saddamites, I smite Assad
Then spread 'em like Islamabad
Convert for-profit prison tsars
From Escobars to Bolivars 
Like currency in Venezuela
Current police-state favela
Where 9/10th's of your possession's
Worth less than your Great Depression’s
Upscale bail ‘em outs of jail
With Dodd-Frank banks too big to fail
Your FDA-approved psychosis
From Campos’ daily dose of
More defense? Here’s my two cents
These slave wages ain’t excrements
So just say no to Reaganomics    
Got us hooked, but not on phonics

Just that Noriega strain
Of Contras stackin' crack contain
Like MAD dogs who trade weapons-grades  
For Ayatollah hate tirades
On “don’t ask, don’t tell” plague ebonics
Drug crusAID Jim Crow narcotics     
Warsaw rats injected, tested,
Quarantined, and then arrested
Guess the J. Arbenz' lens
Still Tet offends their ethnic cleanse
Still Wounding Knees of Standing Sioux
Till Crazy Horses stampede you   
For Mother Nature’s common ground
My Martin Luther’s gather ‘round
Is hellbound sounds of Nero’s crown  
Let's burn this Third World Reichstag down

Vox populyin’ to remove ‘ya
Like Lumumba then Nkrumah
So some Pumbaa kleptocrat
Declares himself the next Sadat
To hide supply-side Apartheid
Increase demand for genocide
So check your factions in Uganda  
Tune into Hotel Rwanda
Come play pirates with Somalis
Then desert ‘em like Benghazis
Thirst for blood so French Algiers  
It boils mine in Trails of Tears  
My destiny unManifest-
Oppressive Adam-Smitten West
So pay your overdues to Mao
I’ll Mussolini Chairman Dow

Then flood this 9th ward Watergate
With killing fields of glyphosate
I'll redistribute IMF’s
With leftist depth so deft it’s theft
I’ll My Lai massacre these lines
With sweet Satsuma samurhymes
I'll make these Madoff Hitlers squeal
With that Bastille New Deal cold steel
Now feel that Shining Pathos wrath
Drop Nagasaki aftermath
On Nanjing kings and dragon’s Diems
With ****** bodhisattva zens
To show you how I pledge allegiance
With razed flags still rapt in Jesus  
Laosy liars pogrom psalms
Can’t Uncle Phnom my Penh’s truth bombs

On heroes shootin' ******
My fix is un-American
Tiananmen democracies
To Syngman Rhee hypocrisies  
Theocracies drive me Hussein
With Bush league’s mass destruction claim
So I dig laissez pharaohs graves
With pyramids of Abu Ghraibs
Then nail their coffers closed like Vlad
I AM THE GHOST OF STALINGRAD
My hammer forged in winters past
My sickle reaps the shadows caste
By pantheons of penta-cons
Whose Exxons lead to autobahns
When liberal Arts of War and Peace in
Free speech teach my voice of treason
“Fascism will come to America wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross”
-Sinclair Lewis
Homage to the late poet; Kofi Owonor


By
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)


In one Sunday Nation article, Professor Ali A Mazrui analyzed the inter-politicality of The Jaramogi Odinga family and The Kennedy family by arriving at a difference that the Odinga’s have curse of long life but the Kennedy’s have a curse of early death through violent and untimely  mode of death .Mazrui made these analogies in reference to violent death of John F. Kennedy and the subsenguent Chappaquiddick bridge tragedy.Similarly,the salient difference between a European and American or a Japanese and African writer or African artist is that most of African writers die early in the mid of their lives through violent death but in contrast American and some European writers die peacefully and comfortably in their old age. Early and violent death is the dominant bane, fate and misfortune that now and then besmirch an African writer. This position is in recognition of a fact that my child-hood American popular literature writers in the name of Mario Puzzo author of the God Father and Robert Ludlum an author of several anti soviet spy series like; Borne dentity, Borne Ultimatum and Icarus Agenda plus very many others like The Matlock Paper had just to die recently in their late eighties. The most surprising of all is Phillip Roth whom I read at the age of twelve years while in my primary four.  Now I am forty years and this year 2013 Phillip Roth is still alive and active to the American literary civilization that he has been touted by the Ladbrokes as a probable candidate for Nobel Prize in literature. But sadly enough on 22 September 2013 in Nairobi the black angel of early  death has carried ahead its  foul duty by claiming the life of Africa’s most honorable literary scholar Professor Kofi Owonor during the helter-skelter of Alshabab terrorist lynch of the upscale West Gate Mall in Nairobi.
Actually this essay is meant to be a deep felt homage to the late Kofi Owonor, Killed by Islamic terrorists in Nairobi. However, the essay also goes ahead to decry the violent and early deaths of several other African writers. The deaths which have almost turned Africa into a literary dwarf if not a continent of artistic bovarism. Kofi Owonor, who peacefully and honorably came to attend Story Moja Literary festival to be held in Nairobi, was violently shot by the Islamic fundamentalist terror group known as Al shabab. Whose gunmen lynched the Mall in which was Kofi Owonor and his son. The terrorist were sending out the Muslim catchword on which if one fails to respond then he was known not to be a non- Muslim on to which he is shot or held hostage for ransom.Fatefull enough, Kofi Owonor was not muslim.He was an elder, an Africanist, a scholar, a poet, a realist, a rationalist, a Christian, a religious non-fundamentalist and a literary liberalist. He could not respond with any tincture of religious irrationalism to the question of the terrorist. He was shot dead and his son injured. Too sad. This is actually the time when Christian positivism goes beyond rigidity of other religious affectations in its classic assertiveness that the devil kills the flesh but not the soul. And indeed it is true the devilish terrorist killed Owonor’s flesh but not his literary soul. They are such and similar situations that made Amilcar Cabral to observe in his Unity and Struggle, in a section on Homage to Kwameh Nkrumah to rationalize that the sky is too enormous to be covered by the palm of a sadist nor to be vilified by the spitting of the filthy ones; Truly, like Nkrumah, Kofi Owonor was the sky of African intellect never to be covered by the brute of the cannon from the parrel of a Muslim terrorist.
Kofi Owonor is not alone neither are we alone. You, my dear reader and I  we are not in any historical nor literary solititude. In Africa God has blessed us with the opportunity of the dead relatives in the name of the living dead. We are not the first and the last to grief. Owonor is not the first and the last to dance with fate. Even Ali A. Mazrui in his literary expositions of 1974 otherwise published as the trial of Christopher Okigbo.A  novella in which Mazrui cursed ideology as an open window into the moving vehicle that let in  a very bad political accident to Nigeria in the name of Biafra war which claimed life of  Christopher Okigbo at the Nzukka battle front. This was one other sad moment at which Africa lost its young literary talent through violent death.
Reading of African literary biographies in all perspectives will not miss to make you attest to this testimony. Both in situ and in diaspora.Admirable African American writers like Malcolm X, and Dr Luther King all died through violent death. Even if in the recent past, the Daughter of Malcolm X revealed to Sahara Reporters, Nigerian Daily, that Louis Farrakhan was behind the assassination of her father, wisdom of the time commands us to know that it was evil politics of that time that made Malcolm X to die the way international politics of today in relation to crookedness which was entertained during the formation of the state of Israel that have made the son of Africa professor Kofi Owonor to die.
An in-depth analysis into the life and times of African writers and artists will show that the number of African cultural masters who die violently is more than the number of those who died normally in their old age. Some bit of listology will show help to adduce the pertinent facts; Patrice Lumumba, Steve Biko, Lucky Dube, Walter Rodney, Tom Mboya, J M Kariuki, Che que Vara, Ken Saro Wiwa, Anjella Chibalonza, and Jacob Luseno all but died through violent death. Lumumba died in a plane crash along with Darg Hammarskjöld only after penning some socialism guidelines. After writing I write what I want, a manifesto for black consciousness Steve Biko was arrested and tortured in the police cells during those days of apartheid in south Africa.Biko died violently while undergoing torture in police cells. Lucky Dube was fatefully shot by a confused ****. Walter Rodney who was persuaded by his student who is now the professor Isa Shivji at Dare salaam University not to go back to his country of Guyana, desisted this voice and went back only to be assassinated in the mid of the rabbles that domineered Guyanese politics those days of 1970’s. This happened when Rodney had written only two major books. How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, being one of them. Tom Mboya was shot by a hired gunman in down-town Nairobi, some one kilometer away from the West Gate Mall, at which Kofi Owonor has been shot. Mboya could have written a lot. Even more than Rudyard Kipling and Quisling. But fate or bad luck had him violently die after he had only written two books; Challenges to Nationhood as well as Freedom and After. Both of them are classically nice reads until today. He had also submitted sessional paper no. 10 to the Kenya government which was a classical thesis on Africanization of scientific socialism.
J M Kariuki, Che and Saro Wiwa are all known for how they violently died. Powers that be and terrorists that be, expedited violent death against these writers. Thus, brothers and sisters in the literary community of Africa and the world as we mourn Kofi Owonor we must also let Africa to unite in spiritual effort to rebuke away the evil spirit that often perpetrate terror of violent death which  especially  claim away lives of African writers.

References
Ali A. Mazrui; Trial of Christopher Okigbo
Amilcar Cabral; Unity and Struggle
david mungoshi Mar 2016
che turns in his grave
and lumumba sheds a tear
to think of the things they're doing
these absurd modern types
rebels without a cause
freedom fighters with no clue
what it's all about or the reason
to forego all luxury
till your colours flutter in the wind
meanwhile all you can do is
dream about pizza on a neon-lit evening
a girl sitting on your lap
a nonchalant scowl on your face
and the inevitable fizzy a-bubbling
this man who has never been oppressed
spots a mane of hair done like samson's
seeing my interest he puts a business card on the table:
freedom fighter, the card says
how different today's struggles are!
final version
Michael Marchese Mar 2017
Let's get this revolution
All my new world orderlies
Because we are the solution
To the bigger stick diplomacies
The shadow of plutocracies
Casted by the sons
Of the Titan kings inciting
The immortal chosen ones
To Prometheus igniting
From the mythic rebel guns
Of Zapata to Guevara
Bolivar in Venezuela
They provided the umbrella
To the reign of encomienda
Reconquista gunna meet ya'
In the jungle with the rumble
Of a Sandanista struggle
From the hovels of Aleppo
Diggin' rubble with a shovel
Wagin' Warsaw in the ghettoes
On the concentration Campos
Lazarettos, and the diamonds
That you smuggle to the kingdoms
Of the Leos in the Congo
But Lumumba, they remove ya'
Like guerillas in the mist if ya'
Resist em' in the system
Arab springin' into action
'Cuz the shah is a mirage
And the Contra-banded faction
Is another name for Raj
To convert the sacred hajj
Into cheaper camouflage
With didactic hypocratic
Neo-liberal art collage
To reeducate the masses
With a capital dogmatic
Lower-casing democratic
Are the over-ruling classes
Where the socialist fanatic
Anarchistic automatic
Never passes, spewin' gases
Of an open-****** fascist
But the tilting of this axis
Is the cashing-in assassin
Malcolm X'n MLK and then
Allende, Joao, and Mossadegh
The CIA, pieces in play
Objective's always Pinochet
When fair elections
Have their way
The pawns go first
The cheaters say
Game over Mr. JFK
And they don't shed
A tear for Ted
Without a bullet
To the head
Of another red dead scare
To hide the truth behind the D.A.R.E.
Grin and bare the propagand
Now it's Comey's Hoover Dam
And Putin's Agent Orange  
Is the latest Khmer stooge
On the trail of ** Chi Minh
Painting refugees in rouge
Making killing fields of stock exchange
His presidential recompense
No cents expense for Climate Change
To silence sense and dissidents
Within the firing range
Of this ****** hate crusade
Scorching Mother Earth campaign
So we gotta disengage the main
Brain drainin' inhumane
Tyrants always back again
To seal the gates and lock the cage
Vote us off the winners' stage
By droppin' bombs of martyrdoms
Crazy Horse was not insane
Brown said **** this ball and chain
With Henry Wallace all the wage
Ragin' fifty shades of Shay's
To free the press and then reclaim
Our history's white-washed front page
She went to Russia as a student
To study fashionable nuclear technology
At the communist Patrice Lumumba University
At the center of ideologue creating city of Moscow,
She went there an accomplished total ******
No African eye had ever seen her naked bossom
She came from the western region of Africa
A girl so couth in all the platforms of life;
In manners, dress and ****** appetite,
With only education as the prime focus of her heart;
To bag a science degree in her African leather wallet
Under her arm pit, sandwiching culture and discipline.
But communist racism turned her into an ape *****,
All the tricks of European racism were employed on her,
The young girl lost her seed of self-worthwhile sensibilities,
She conceded that perhaps she was a daughter of zinjanthropus,
In the land of dignified civilisation of the Russian humanity
Where communism struggles to achieve universal Godliness
As ***** blackness strives to achieve universal communism,
In this negative personality feat, my dear daughter goofed,
A poor girl of Africa joined communist *** workers market,
And hence the door was opened to communist loutishness,
Comrades came in arms and went out, to collectivize her love
Making her ****** rights state property, subjected to proletariat dictatorship,
Only to suffer the bane of the time on her complain of woman rights,
She was declared as an African ******* in Moscow,
Suffering from incorrigible explosive African anger,
***** irascibility never seen any where in mother Russia
Only capable to be corrected in Siberian prison .
This poem is dedicated to the african girl who was brutally arrested in Russia and declared a ******* in march 2014
They say we free but are we really free or modern slaves in a plantation tied with invisible mental chains, prisoned to the  golden fantasies of a spiritual dimension encoded in a book of light
Our ancestors are demonised in the name of
And our God given dark magic is victimized
As a spiritual sin to an invisible alien sky God
They enforced brutally on the true God's of Alkebulan
Are we really free when spiritually we are still conquered
Will the God who created us fight for us or against us
They took our land
They ***** our women
Took our wild stock
For themselves
And killed our men
Sailed some of the boys
To the new world
Through the altantic
Where some of them were served
As food to creatures of the ocean
Some drowning themselves
For freedom in the spiritual world
Our mother we're left
Widowed & pregnant
To innocent souls
Committed painful sinfully
Tell me are we free when we went trough such
Without reparations
The Jews got it for ******'s genocide
And others they managed to rebuild
Tell me are we free
Are we free when the DRC is still being exploited
For her minerals & it's war all over
Are we free when the Arabs claim Egyptian history as theirs and opress the true dark pharoas
Are we free when Sudan is in the mist
Of a religious war
It Muslims v Christians
Brotherhood no longer matters
Libya is involved in slave trades
Nigeria is troubled by rebels
South Africa is involved in Afrophobia
Tell me Africa are we really free ?
In the Dispora you had Garvey
Malcom X
Dr Khalid
What did you do with them asks
Dr Clarke ?
They took out Nkrumah
Assassinated Lumumba
Victimized Mugabe
& Exiled Zimbabwe from the world
Destroying our bread & basket
Hunger became a ghost that haunting
The people of Zimbabwe & still does
They Killed Machel
& So died the future of a prosperous Mozambique
They silenced Gaddafi
& Libya became a war Zone
So died the dreams of a United Africa with him
lied about Idi Amin
Shaked Ethopia
Failed in Somalia
And institutionalized the most
Punishious & brutal regime
To the people of the South
Tell me Africa are we free when heavent really dealt with all this trauma
Tell me Africa are we free ?
Tell me are We free ?
Or are we still in *******
#Africa
Tebogo Masetlana Aug 2016
“Africa will write its own history and it will be, to the north and the south of the Sahara, a history of glory and dignity.”   ~Patrice Lumumba

When I dream of beauty,                                                          ­       I dream of nothing less than phenomenal;                                                     A­ woman so beautiful you would never question why diamonds exist.
Her eyes are bright and promising like gold, embedded with vibrant iridescent gems and pearls;                                                          ­        She is a woman of grace, intelligence and wonder.    
                                                     ­                      Her mesmerising curves have been known to stop a man’s heart.
Kings and queens have died her freedom and deliverance;                                                     ­ Men are drawn to her green lush wavy hair.                                                            ­          Her beauty is so potent yet the same men.          dared to harm her…                                                                  This woman got scorned, kicked, bruised, used, abused and re- used;                                                                 She didn’t deserve any of it;                                                              ­             She deserved more than their ***** looks.
The struggles were survived but now she longs for far more than basic survival,                        
She craves success and respect…                                                         ­     She has the potential to break every limit and walk on the sky;                                       She could discover a completely new universe.
All her compelling neighbours believe her to be powerless.                                                       They say she is nothing but a carrier of AIDS… they don’t see her beauty.                                                           They just call her names and make fun of her!
They labelled her wrong!
 The truth is that AIDS is real and alive in the flesh, running through her veins like Trojan Horse and killing her people slowly.                                                          ­        

AIDS is real but so is success!
Her story could end differently;                                                     ­     She could have a happy ending!                                                          ­       This beautiful woman can rise, I’m sure she can, Sure as the sun rises every morning and the stars come out to play every night…                                                             This woman will rise; she is like the underdog in every good story…                                                              She is a woman so great Cinderella looks like an amateur.
This woman, this land will rise and that is my promise!                                                         ­     Our blessed land her beautiful people will rise!                                                            ­       Africa will rise and for this epic reason, I will always believe in infinite possibility.
Samuel Beat Sep 2016
Lumumba is a cool teen.
That's their thought, not his
he fills rot inside
But looks nice outside
He keep things deep soul
They can't see it at all
They celebrate his smile
He cry his heart
He is hurt
They can't notice that
No don't blame his hat
you once sat together on a mat
Being shaved by Matella
But you were always brainwashed
He's calling
Need your salvage
Save his soul
Please
He is me
Maria Mitea Dec 2021
if i ever wanted to start over, where would i go:
- i return to the balcony on patrice lumumba street,
on the third floor, i see two ruins around our souls,
modern talking, brother louie is playing,
i wrap myself around your fingers like slimy playdough,
we go home, i see the apple tree in the cemetery, we pick apples:
- let me kiss you on your lips, let me kiss, - we are friends too,
i try to remember what i was looking for among the crosses and owls,
your mother was taking the cheese pies out of the hearth,
it's getting dark, we've put everything together,  waiting for her to fall asleep,
everything that happens, the tray falls and the bread shovel falls from the nail,
deadly silence on the village road, since then
we meet every ten years across the road
speechless, i look at you, you look at me,
father vasile sprinkles holy water, sanctifies the graves.
The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

I am cunning cause of my wounds
Bound up into a tone of bitter flesh
Emitting an odour
Only I can smell - an adour keeping me alive in this mad game called life.

Who knows it
feels it

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

I lick no wounds
no more
I leave them
fester
A pungent reminder of this treacherous  path

Wounds have morphed into eyes
looking backwards - sideways - as I propel forward - gas leaking everywhere - radar broken

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

saddle up dear reader
You too are wounded
Ride like devil's calvary is up on your bumper
Strike like the power of the high veld  thunder
And disappear like a drop in the orange river
They are after your kind
fight old rider
fatigue is not your salvation
your dagger your only way to your true emancipation
fear them no more - they have laid their eyes on you
send your doppelgänger - and get lost in the crowd - after you have struck at the heart of the beast - western civilization

western civilization
the true enemy of humanity
fight like sankara
fight like lumumba
Fight like Dingani
**** the queen

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night
I have seen your agenda
Your sport of drinking black blood
will end.

— The End —