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J Bertaniel Sep 2014
**** you people and your 2D polo's
please use me for to tape down cords
and I will use you for credit.

credibility
I had enough
and I would never take a recommendation
from a polo like you.

but was the credit really worth it or three?
did I need this experience?
knowing the world is gonna ******* is a no brainer
but learning and not being paid is like an underdog
smothered and stomped

you are an intern
and you are unpaid for me...

You know how it feels
but do you know how it starts
those eyes and words.. slowly creep in
or maybe the words don't even show
worst of all those looks linger on after

do something great... __
do something wrong-
___fool
don't you know what a bamba mamba is?

I thought I was here to figure out what a bamba mamba was?
Some people teach you and most people use you... that's what I have learned.
Ivan Brooks Sr Aug 2018
African woman
Mother of civilization.
Oh beautiful woman,
Thou are beyond description.

African woman
Queen of the people of Mamba.
Jambo to all those in heaven
Bless you too my dear mama.

African woman
Royal Nubian Queen.
The backbone of her man
You'll do anything to help him win.

Single Black woman
Made of broken pieces
You're the breadwinner,Superwoman.
You're the symbol of strength in all places.

African woman
Daughter of Eve's.
Thou are God's true specimen,
And the apple of his eyes.

Black woman
Daughter of Africa.
Blueprint of a **** woman,
Dark hue of coffee arabica.

African woman
Mother of humanity
Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman,
Mama Africa's bounty.

African woman
My Mandingo bride.
First woman of Africa's Eden
Center of God's black tribe.

Nigerian woman
My Yoruba Queen.
Envied by the women of Oman,
Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream!

Warrior woman,
Queen of Wakanda.
Come and flip your wand,
Find the soul of Sarafina.

Curvy woman
In your womb lies Africa's future.
My Lormah woman
Oyobuays marvels at your structure.

Beautiful woman,
Perpetual envy of the silicon woman.
Pride of the Black man,
The essence of a real woman.

Indigo Woman
Lillies of the African plains.
Thou are Eve of the African Eden,
Best of the portraits that nature paints.

Voluptous woman,
Full, thick natural lips.
Real assert of the Black woman,
Nature gets aroused by your hips.

Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman,
Africa's first female president.
A Liberian woman,
Loved and revered wherever she went.

Smile ,Gambian woman,
You're daughter of Sarakunda.
Roots of the Black American woman,
Captives of the kanda Bolinga.

South African woman
Mariam Makeba
Sang for freedom and fought like a man
You were truly Soweto's finest Deva.

Dark ebony woman,
You are red, yellow and green.
Hanmatan wind stops at your command,
Born to slay and be seen.

African woman
Thou are the only reason
God put Adam in a coma.
Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season.

African woman,
Under your cleavage, the Nile flows
And between your fingers, golden threads are woven,
You are the reason Beyonce glows.

Harriet Tubman, brave woman
Smuggled slaves underground.
She was a freed Black slave woman,
Who avowed to leave no soul behind.

Creative woman
Maya Angelou, gifted poetess.
Famous writer and a Black woman
Will be remembered for her poetic prowess.

Native African woman,
Africa's limestone and cement.
A mother, a wife, virtuous woman,
Lioness and the spine of the continent.

Liberian woman
Roots of my poetry, you gave me life
You are every woman.
Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife.



#IvanBrookspoetry©
13/8/2018
For mama and all the black Queens.
Andy Cave Apr 2016
Dear Kobe,
For years I've watched and hated
as you tore through the N.B.A
but even though I despised you
I couldn't look away
You became one of the greatest
made me respect the way you play
from a three point shot to start your career
to sixty on your final day.
It's been a pleasure to hate you
but I'm sad to see you go
because beating L.A just won't be the same
without a Black Mamba show.
SøułSurvivør Dec 2015
skin
tight suit • lush
but lean • soot lashed
    \/\/    eyes of acid green
               amber flesh
       of porcelain
jet black hair
a raven's wing        
turned up nose      
pouting lips •      
you pour a glass
        you take a sip
               purest poison
                   in her flask •••
                         all you have to
                    do is ask • she
           sidles up • her
arts are black •
sparks fly as she      
shreds your back              
she's a mamma •                
she's a pet • but              
she's a snake, so
  don't forget •••
             she'll make you
                 shiver • make you
              shake • then waits
       for the bite to take
once the woman's
sunk a fang • you    
won't remember
          where you began
                         everything
                              becomes a
                     blur • then
           your soul
is truly hers
as the flames    
go higher              
and higher                
she slithers        
round your
         funeral pyre
      you're so
protective    
and so proud          
but your sheets                
become your                      
shroud •                  
they find    
          you lying
               in your
       bed
mamba
bites          
and    
   you
   are
      D
    E
A
D
SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/12/2014

An old poem from a former site.
I needed to do some concrete to take
my mind off of things
feh Mar 2020
Mamba
impossibly human
the bite, the strike, the temperament
When threatened, the mamba comes out
Strike, strike, strike, strike
The mamba is relentless
His venom coursing through the veins
Of his foolish challengers
His coal black eyes, hungry
Defeating, intimidating, vicious
The mamba bite is always fatal
For he has no antivenin to defeat him
No mortal power can wither him
To the dust
Strike, strike, strike, strike
The common name of the snake
Is given to no common man
Only the name of the fastest, most protective, most aggressive,
Tallest, biggest, lethal-est snake
Belongs to the man with the biggest, lethal-est presence
Strike, strike, strike, strike
Formidable anywhere he is placed
Strike, strike, strike, strike
The crown of the kingdom sits
Comfortably atop his temples
Strike, strike, strike, strike
How fitting
The world’s deadliest player
Be called after
The world’s deadliest snake
In loving memory of Kobe Bryant and his daughter Gigi
randy123 Aug 2010
Sitting on my bed
Gazing out at the view
Laptop in lap
I wonder
Being of mixed race
The truth of my origins
The blood coursing through my veins
Goffle they would say
But iv always believed a man's skin colour doesn't define who he is
Kwabulawayo
A place where he is being killed
Home of the Ndebele
My hometown
Built on the ruins of a Royal town
uMzilikazi ,Leander Starr Jameson ,Lobengula ,Cecil john rhodes
Men of courage
Black and white
Fought struggles
Years before my birth
Mater Dei Hospital
My journeys beginning
My grandfathers end.
Joy and pain
My hearts memories
From Primary
Whitestone
Green fields
Where i spent my childhood
Life's little joys
Clay-yaki
In the rain
Barefoot.
Speargrass
How it stung
Running through the grass
Taller than i was
Forts
Built with shoelaces
Marbles
Fights in the sand
Afternoons spent picking mullberyys
The girls dormitory
Offbounds.
Matrons
Got me the cain
Thursday Nights
Prefects Priveleges
Sports
Cross country
The houses of Tuli, Shangani, Shashe
lifelong friends made
A place frozen in memory
Home of the best years of my life
Tears streaming down
Every Sunday evening
The way back
A boarders sentiment
Lasting 5min till reunited with friends
Tuck shared
Eskimo Hut
The Green Mamba Or Pink Panther
The food hall
Quiet
Till dessert came
Mr Haworth
Everyday
"The queen would be disgusted if she saw u eating"
The tide of his time
Wandering around my childhood
I bumped unintentionally into
Maturity
Starless nights
First kisses
A little bit older i was
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2019
Africa's King of reptiles
The pretty black Mamba
Fast and furious
Venomous and slithery

Bites in quick succession
Faster than you can react
If you cross their path
Prepare for war

So also my Sweet mother
My survival, her priority
She laboured that i may live
My Sweet Black Mamba

You are my ultimate champion
With African mothers
We never really grow up
Even when we have grown up.

My mother my gist partner
My number one fan
My soothing voice of comfort
I love you like "Kilode"
The curtain on the
CPAC convocation rolls back,

as the revolution
in Tahrir Square boils.

America’s theater
of deadly political

absurdity commences;
to witness demagogues

recite holy scripture to
evangelize a religion of war.

A heavily invested
audience marvels

at the marionettes
pirouetting on strings

jigged along by hands
of invisible puppet-masters

donning dark masks of
clever 503C llcs

disguised in self serving
hues of red, white and blue.

This grand folly of masquers
conceals a fatal pantomime,

a cast of reactionary characters,
Neo-Conmen auditioning for

the leading role in a lurid play
of a deadly nation projecting
a dying imperial preeminence.

The martinets engage zero
sum games where the victor
belongs to the despoilers,

and the merchants of death
richly confer multimillion dollar
reasons for being, underwriting
the gilded egos of candidates

and their infatuation with the
vanity of feigned power.

These master rhetoricians
skillfully lather up the crowd

by pandering to basest
xenophobic nationalist
instincts and fantasies
of laissez-faire proclivities.  

Slathering on the partisan
pretense in layers so thick

a master chef, armed
with the sharpest Ginsu Knife

couldn't slice a hock tip
of blood red meat

hurled into the crowd of
gobbling Republicons

howling and yodeling
it’s derisive acclaim.

The rankled party line,
gibberish talking points

are hammer blows of
incessant propaganda,

so cocksure that any room for
doubt is crowded out by the

phantasmagorical McMansions
of hyperbole they ***** in

the pliant minds of their
gibbering minions.

The candidates preening for
president show off their

falangist affectations
in eager duels of oratorical

one upmanship; constantly
jockeying to outflank their

other Neo-Conmen opponents,
always concluding their brutish

diatribes with a solemn
denouement of a Republicon

psalm ending with a
Holy Hosanna Hallelujah

to the Ronald Reagan
Heavenly Buddha.

Punchline of the holy Amen
“what would Reagan do?”

to remind the faithful
to remain the faithful

bearers to the fiction
of dead Reaganism.

Evoking anything
Ron and Nancy

induces sanctioned
comportment of a

slow simmering
******* eubellence

providing a welcomed
relief of repressed
libidinal energy.

The mention of Goldwater
sends GOP acolytes to

pause in reverence,
envisioning Barry and

Ronnie looking down
from heaven upon the gathered,

inciting immediate ruminations
of falling dominos and

the viability of a
tactical nuke strike

against Ayatollah’s
underground
uranium factories.

The host of Neo-Conmen,
new age Falangist pitchmen

belch from the dais,
in ever increasing alacrity,

the stirring drum beats
and slick videos,

of glorious warriors
winning the battlefield

with the rippling glory
of the Stars and Stripes

flowing in a continual
loop behind them.

Romney,
Bachmann

Gingrich
take center stage,

goose stepping
to the roll of piercing timpanis.

Words slither
out of their mouths
like poisonous snakes.

Lies, hiss through
their teeth.

Open mouths
expose Black Mamba
fangs, dripping with venom.

Eyes squint
as their reptilian brains

implore the besieged
to flee from the
light of truth.

Seeking refuge in fear;
yet on the ready

to coil and strike;
while trembling

in ignorance,
exalting loathsomeness

worshiping violence;
they remain

poised to unleash
first strike armies;

boastfully evoking moral
platitudes of Bush Doctrine
prerogatives.

Trembling in ignorance
worshiping violence

exalting fear,
these dogs of war bay

to unleash armies
against the

Godless apostates
that threaten

to expose the
stasis of their

Capitalismo-Judeo-Christian
view of the world.

They have hijacked
the great faith traditions

to serve a narrow
political aim

and relish any
opportunity to

demonize Islam
in service to their lies.

Watch as they
they crouch down

on the dais to
open the nest

of vipers welling
deep within the
bowels of their souls.

They find relief
by excreting their

spawn of deadly asps
into the veins of

cable news networks;
scoring political points

with the terrorized
children of Faux News

capturing battalions
of straw men villains

to rise atop meaningless
straw polls.

They agitate for a second
American revolution

by injecting the venom
of fear and lies

into the body
politic.

Ron Paul
stands alone,

perplexed why
American's love

war as much as
they hate civil liberties?

Cheney and
Rumsfeld brood.

The people of
Iraq and Afghanistan

fail to embrace their armies
of liberation that run up

unfortunate collateral damage
body counts required to sustain
the American way of life.

Ever the defender of
democracy and liberty,

Gingrich slams Obama's
condemnation of Suleiman

"hes an able diplomat."
Gingrich  forgot to add

that Suleiman is a
skilled torturer and

an able tyrant any self
serving democracy would
be proud to call ally and friend.

Cheney and Rumsfeld
remain flummoxed.

Their armies of liberation bogged
down in the marshy Blackwaters

of intractability;  trying to solve
the conundrum of the diminished

equity returns of asymmetrical
warfare.  Spinning the math

to justify building aircraft carriers
to **** a gnat.

The families of dead soldiers
surround them and wave dime

store flags hoping the plastic
eagle remains fixed atop the pole.

Perpetually smiling
Michele Bachmann
raises the specter
of Muslim Brotherhoods
taking over Egypt.

The persecution of Christians
and the escalating war on

Christianity have the Crusaders
up on their seats waving Excalibur
once again.

Gingrich pink cheeks
flush with the cash

of a Zionist casino
entrepreneur

doubles down, stacks
his chips high.

“The Israeli Embassy
in Cairo was overrun
by angry mobs.”  

“Is this a precursor of
cancelling the peace treaty
signed with Sadat?”

“The pullout in Iraq hands the country to
radical Shiites effectively handing our
hard won victory to Iran.”

“Israel is threatened and will not
permit Iran to acquire nuclear

weapons. A nuclear empowered Iran
will not stand!”

“We mustn't let do nothing Obama
threaten the safety of our good ally
Israel.”

CPAC willingly holds the deadly asp
to the breast of a proud nation.

Urging, coaxing it to gently sink
its teeth into the sacred heart
of our dear republic...

John Lee ******
Crawlin King Snake

CPAC 2011

Matthew 23
Brood of Vipers


jbm
Oakland
2/10/11
Austin James Jan 2020
No tears seem to express.
No words seem to explain.
My heart has sunken into my gut
As the world is hooded with pain.  

A jack of many trades.
A master of them all.
An artist in the greatest form
Whose paintbrush was a ball.

This life makes little sense.
Souls taken far too soon.
We must cherish the ones we love
Because our time, we cannot choose.

The Mamba lives forever,
In the hearts of old and young.
The hope you gave to many
Will be shared for years to come.

The memories will never fade.
Your legacy will live on.
A hero of the game we love,
But a legend far beyond.
My heart is broken and I wrote this. The only thing I could think to do was to share it because so many people are feeling the way I'm feeling right now. Lost. Confused. Sad. Angry. But we have to remember that we are stronger in numbers and we're all grieving together so I hope ya'll enjoy this.

RIP Kobe and Gigi. You will be sincerely missed.
sheloveswords Jul 2013
The elegance of her ardor
Captures you and lures you into her clean hands
But living in this cynical world, with overflowing grimace
Many souls lack to understand
Why her stride is full and incandescent
She posses a sweet force were every murmur she whispers pushes you to listen
A voice fully soft spoken
It's a gentle breeze through your ears
In the absence others' may make you feel
In her presence, you are here.
The quantum she share is as petite as her frame
Longing for more, she makes it impossible to maintain
Straight forward.
Her ratherness for avoiding the curves and steeps that one can provide
Would leave you at a daze with desire
A fire inferno
Burning inside of your eyes
Seconds and affection she hardly gives
Made her a tenacious woman in twenty-one years
But the love that she gives.
Oh.
The love that she gives
Is more sweeter than honey in a tomb of one thousand years
Seeing men fall into her deep dark abyss
From their own creation and temptation they couldn't resist
Attempting to crawl back into reality, after losing themselves
You would think she's a Black Mamba
A hunter
Looking for a prey to lead astray
But she's only a sweet soul that God humbly perfectly made
A gift that many fail to contain
That makes every Man yearn and kneel to pray
There is No woman like her
Her ineffable felicity you will not find
Her Respect, you'll give
Or you will not live
Unintentionally,
She posses the power to take over your mind
With every thought you feel
Her time isn't wasted on pleasures and life's immorality
She's the meaning of a blessing
She fails to degrade her self down to worlds level
You'll fall in love with her originality
Some would go far as calling her stuck up
A *****
But a deficient mind wouldn't comprehend
She's a woman of God
Of wisdom
And your respect she demands
Perfectly sane
To me she's a courageous lady
Some men call her dangerous
But Me,
I call her Shady



Copy Right 2013
   ©Patty Ann
Natalie Wood Dec 2013
My brain is dead and I am a burnt rubber tire,
I could say I slept, but I would be a lier, lier,
It doesn't make a difference, I am already on fire.

My heart beats a tango, a ballet, a samba,
It plays a tune, it daces to a mamba, mamba,
Someone please let me be, let me feel the rhumba.

I want to sleep forever and ever,
But it feels like forever will be never, never
And I've run out of rhymes, I lost my clever.
I'm really sorry about this; I have not slept in over 36 hours.
Brycical Jul 2013
Thanks for the gift you left at the front door--
I wept cause I figured you left for good
'till I opened the box in horror
to find a zombie black mamba instead of my heart.

Thanks for the living dead snake
constricting around my brain
making me think of nothing but you
eschewing daily life.
The venom takes away my appetite--
the sun is too bright and sunny
so I stay inside my room filled with flies
writing about the time you left this
living dead snake instead of my heart.

It keeps squeezing and gnawing--
it's venom fills me with haunting memories
of the times I didn't see you slowly pulling away--
hugs stiffened
your kisses listless
and eyes drowning
while the sound of your voice sings disinterest.

Luckily you gave to me
a zombie black mamba instead of my heart
so I can always remember our time together.
I like the sounds this poem makes.
What has made
this lioness of
the high stars
above-
queen of the
great safari -
cower on
rough,
quaking knees,
before her
mighty throne?

I blame his
brown,
dripping
eyes
that could
so easily
****** away
her roar,

And the
silken sweet way
he plays his
magic flute
as if to
charm
the great
Black Mamba.

He jests
with a heart
so full and
merry,

So light
upon his feet,

I'm to my own,
before I know it,

My heart beating
to his beat.

He's found a power
more mighty
than pride,
more great
than power
itself,

I am on my feet
and to my knees,

Bless Me.


And, You -

For allowing me
favour.
"When a lioness reigns, and a lion king approaches."
Two leos, in one house.
Clicks and clashes, all about - and, love.
Sweet, unabashed love.
Bubz Feb 2015
We are who we are depending on the situations we are in.
We should never be labeled as something.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
How To Dress For My Funeral



black or white, hot n'pink,
lavender always a fav,
at a fun funeral rave,
lacy or plain, your choice,
tho clean would be nice,
won't matter to me very much,
the color of your underwear.
but do not fail to recall, the dead,
their vision keen, can see all!

funeral gravity rules to be strictly observed,
snickering and giggling to commence in the
back row, when holy pomposity gets uttered,
let it wend its way forward from the aft,
until y'all better be
laughing your ***** off

anyone who chooses to speak,
must commence with words,
"Did ya hear the one about"
or be haunted by my spectral shadow
tickling both feet at midnight, or,
worse yet, reciting this awful poem
in their head, like Henry the Eighth,
I am, I am

perhaps a hora dance might be nice,
a mamba line, butts,  holy rolling n'shaking,
past rows of rock n' rolling tombstones, guitar-playing
some Metallica,
while the rabbi intones somberly,
Let's get this party started, gad ******!

if my untimely hour should arrive in July,
I humbly request that flip flops be the ped-modality,
if January should be my season
of absence treasoned, use some reason,
please stay home, and let the paid professionals
suffer in fine phony, professional, seasonal frigidity

at the post partum party, should that occur,
I humbly repast request, barbecue be the cuisine,
in the hopes you all recall to place
a generous helping, repeat, generous helping,
inside my sauce- proof pine wood casket,
with extra napkins for the long trip ahead

now these are all post hypnotic, post breathing,
helpful suggestions, not requirements,
but honor or disparage, cry or vent,
curse or bless my perma-absence,
don't matter to me, as long as somebody
reads this manifesto at the festivities, first and last.
Elaine Powell Dec 2015
~
Darker than black
Sweeter than barries
More magic than faries
You're a black mamba baby
Poisonous and timid
But wild
And that look in your eyes is so loud
Howling like a beast 
Eat me up like a feast
Your vains are black 
Filled with the ink
Used for scripting your bad dreams
You and I are two black souls 
An unbeatable team
Some say you aren't right for me
And I'd say that's true
But honey it's been a long time since i've followed rules
~
E.P
Scott Howard Jan 2014
(WE ARE!)

The space pioneers, planetary colliders seizing the heavens and placing them on earth, pop pop big bang brain busters that spin galaxies into milky ways and planets into candybars, the alien humanoid reflectors reflecting the sun back into Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

(WE ARE!)

The fire-starters, self-combustion, canvas arsonists. IGNITE! Light the streets on fire with your blood. Explode, implode, and explode again. Pilot to bombardier, we’re dropping bombs like Guernica.

(WE ARE!)

Wild creatures born out of black magic, black mamba, bear your ******* fangs! Be a predator! Find you’re prey, rip it’s ******* guts out, and paint something with them. Then scream, scream so loud that Munch himself would tell you to turn it down a notch.

(WE ARE!)

The creators, the ground shakers, the earth quakers, inventing ideas, gushing thought, and gushing blood because remember, you are alive! Alive with creativity, passion, and energy to create, because we are artists.
"WE ARE!" is also supposed to be shouted by the audience as well
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
War isn't that fusillade you hear in the distance
betwixt the government troops and the resistance
it's the civilians getting tattered in the crossfire
it isn't the wham of bombardment from airstrikes
by blaring Jet fighters across a shower of black in the sky
it isn't the badonkadonk of a Rocket launcher or Black Mamba
but natives being swept like Safari ants in chunky numbers
War isn't those mines planted in hitherto playing field
but the ignorant innocent children in search for a distraction killed
War isn't the televised scorched homes and gardens with corns
but the consequent drought, scarcity and "famined" and feeble as thorns
War isn't those vehicles and motors torched
it's the blameless owner who in tears the absurdity watched
War isn't that cacophony of politicians on stuffed tables
their speeches filled with hypocritical vocabulary are but fables
speak to the maimed and dead whose voices are never heard
it's those who want the anarchy to end, it's they that are tired
War isn't the nations battling or the parties in contention
it's those set, torn and cast apart...the ones we seldom mention
the parents and siblings forced to say goodbye
while their Breadwinner falls victim to conscription
despondent and despairing as they look on and cry
knowing their brother and Son's like those taken before bound to die
or those refugees wanting to return to their cradle
but having no home and nothing to return to but rubble
those forced to stay in the first world midst racist chants and hate
jeered by the "civilised" like they chose their skin-color and fate
War isn't the famous voices we hear and talk about on the media
but the ****** girls abducted, gagged, ***** and mutilated
War isn't the beautiful monster tanks wrecking
but the historical landmarks and fashioned roads
reduced to nothing, the lives within squashed under their loads
War isn't the glamorous documentary films censored and unreal
but the muffled deadbeat voices from heartbreaks that never heal
It's seeing one's whole life sublime in one moment of savagery
compelling the orphaned and widowed into manacles of *** slavery
for with the loss of their husbands and parents, neighbours, Uncles
comes the tight grasp of inhumane chains and anchors
in those places they are forced to seek refuge
places where they are treated worse when they attempt to refuse
War isn't just being apart from your people by a million a mile
War's learning to wear a weighted mask of a smile
while the heart, Soul, Mind and one's entirety's in Tears
War's knowing all one's "perspirational" toils were but wasted years
fearing to tell one's story because among the presented ears
one can no longer tell one that truly listens from one that just hears
..
whatever's in speech be it poetry or Documentary isn't War
War isn't words, war isn't testimonies, there's more
destruction to War than the eyes, heart can handle
not ever can War fit in the descriptions of words we bundle
War's something humanity never deserve
so unfair for we make war when most can hardly make love.
The jester free styled about dealing grams under the tainted Charleston moonlight – Drug scene.
Whenever we discussed the existence of God, it always ended in a fight – The unseen.

The harlot was always type casted as the Rizzo, never the Sandy.
Who could forget those black leather pants, oh so tight – Street corner scene.

The king flirted with the innocent freshmen girls, unaware of the imminent restraining order.
He would joke about using the effervescent glow of his skin as their flashlight – Obscene.

The fair lady believed Tolkien was the closet humanity could ever get to godly perfection.
She was infamous for always tripping over the set, a common plight – Off scene.

The wizard dreamed one day to be the first black James Bond, code name Black Mamba.
One day he told me he liked women and men, except the whiney boys of white – Epicene.

You, the minstrel, sang the words to “Baby Got Back” in your high-pitched voice backstage.
You often told us “rawr” is dinosaur for I love you and everything will be alright – End scene.

I, the queen, tried to hide behind the black velvet curtain paralyzed by my stage fright.
But now, I just wish you hadn’t crashed your car into the tree that night – Unforeseen.
In Memory of RKJ
Omar Kawash Jul 2014
Vibrant yellow back
Defiant black streaks
Deceptively cute

Solid almost artificial blue unlike the sky or ocean
Speckled with the night
Assuming an artificial rainbow

Small eyes that radiate innocence
And an equally built body

Your diet is of alkaloids
Psychotropic substances
You use them to protect yourself
Psychedelics have brought you questions you'd rather not answer

I've indulged in the natural poisons
I can see beauty in harm, purpose, necessity
But if I let you be, I know you're no danger to me
Though, I'm a little too late

You're delicate and I am clumsy
You've warned me not to get to close, I’m bound to get hurt
I yield to what yearns to cradle your amphibious nature,
so unique to a monochrome world

Physicality is your weapon
An open wound lets your corrosive membrane transfuse my blood
You flood me
And oh, I moan. Action potential discharged, the sensory impulses to my brain.
You stop feeling slippery in my hand as I begin to rust

Little one, you escape my hands  
But I am paralyzed

Thickened blood, what went so wrong
Tender in touch, I didn't hurt you
But your defensive, corrosive skin reflected your inner malintent

Black mamba venom indisputably pierces the skin
Harsh betrayal of curious wonder
Black widow toxin, an unblunted destruction of the dermis
But you came in celebrated color

How am I to trust visual credibility of sinlessness
You're a poison dart frog
When the beauty that once enticed me
Has hardened the sanguine essence that filled me with vitality and awe
'Besem el Badan' is an Arabic phrase that translates to "that which poisons the blood."
At a creek of the Congo River
Bathing myself in full swing,
Fully naked; soap foam all over my body
Covering my face with sight hinder
My eyes not clearly seeing where soap piece is,
Moving my hand to the soap without my look
As a huge snake, the black mamba reconnoitres too,
To dine on the same scarce soap
Before I take the soap, the snake swallows,
Then smoothly the snake disappears into the whirlpool
Without my knowledge as I keep on touching
Different parts of the river stones.
Maria Mitea Aug 2022
Monako ( meat)
Aebi (water)
Bala ( honey)
Manaketa (corn porridge)
Hunting at night
Zebra
Baboons

A rat is still food,

We don't eat hyenas (they can eat people)

We fear Lions,  
Black mamba ( we cut their head and throw them far away)

The moon?

The full moon is not  good,
Too much light,

Look the baboons are out!!

They smile
Life can be lived in many, many ways!
One day I was in the rural areas of Turkana County,
walking up and down perfidiously ,
in a style of  the devil when visiting
Job  the son of Amos in the land of Uz,
It was in fact in the Northern region of the County
near a town known as Small Spain,
it is bushy and full of wild animals,
i was  on assignment by a certain NGO,
to give food,*******,drugs and clothes
to the dwellers  of this desert region,
All over a sudden I pumbed into a riff-raff
of  peasants, wearing scrofulously lugubrious faces,
one of them , a young man was on the ground
reeling in pain from the snake-bite,
he had been biten by a deadly desert snake,
A yellow Mamba in fact, it left its fangs in his muscle,
it was pathetic and sorriest, as there was no clinic nearby,
the nearest hospital was one thousand miles away,
and  you know,there is no road,no vehicle nor bicycle,
no horses nor water boats, only Carmel,,donkey and goats,
were there plus few emaciated native cows,
Luckily enough a white man  who stayed nearby,
surfaced from nowhere, he also owns a small aero-plane,
He spoke Italian,Spanish,Swahili and Greek like a native,
so I don't knew which country of Europe he came from,
he picked the snake bite victim to his home,
he asked me to come along
we boarded his plane to Kitale,
where we have a government hospital,
We flew across the hills of Turkana land ,
thousand and thousands of miles,
it was i, the white man  and snake bitten man,
three strangers on one another in the aeroplane,
Bound strongly by human love beyond identity,
Our patient began getting worse and worse
In fact  he had began getting dull and motionless,
we landed in Kitale, the white man bought a taxi,
we rushed to the hospital, all us panting frenetically,
we got at the hospital found nurses having lunch,
they were slow and relaxed, as if death is their dish,
the African nurse who came was all but un-started,
she began asking  for the age and the  tribe,
The tribe of our snake bitten friend,
She also asked for where he works,
And where he often goes to clinic,
worst of  all, she asked where he goes to church
she again demanded for seven hundred shillings,
the white man gave her the money,I was broke as usual,
He gave her a bank note of  one thousand shillings
she declined , she instead  wanted loose money
she ordered us to look for her the  loose money
before  she could begin treating our friend,
before we got the loose money  our friend died
of heavy poisoning of the blood, snake bite
He roared like a bull in the slaughter house,
on his painfully preventable death,
the white man was very disappointed
the white man wept, he went back to his plane.
In a similar stretch with a case of  a referral hospital
in Eldoret, also another town in Kenya, it is big,
it is called Moi Teaching and Referral Hospital,
it has the largest cancer management unit,
in the whole of east and central Africa
from Congo to Seychelles is the only one,
it was build by tax payers money,
but local politics as influenced it otherwise,
workers and Nurses are substantially locals,
in fact from one clan, now they speak strangely,
patients from alien clan are never treated,
they must bribe to be treated,
if not you  go back sick and eat your tribe,
or if you are introduced by a local politician,
you be lucky to be treated your cervical cancer,
they charge medical fees exorbitantly,
but once you pay no doctor will come,
in fact patients who are admitted for in-patient,
rarely come out  alive, if they are one hundred,
eighty of them will die,twenty will go home,
only to come back after a while and then die,
out of this despair another white man from Germany,
has established a modern hospital , just nearby the referral,
it offers absolutely free cancer treatment services
as Africans keep on facilitating death of their own kin,
Blessed be the womb that gave birth to a European.
Peyton L Aug 2019
My lovers have always been like cough drops.
Sweet, soothing, addicting even,
but never enough to solve the problem.
Never enough to clear my damaged throat.

And I don't know if you'll be any different.
From how we started,
it seemed as if I was in for another dose of
acesulfame potassium,
but there's something about you.
That makes me think
you'll be more like a cigarette.

Instead of sweet,
you'll be bitter.
But you'll make me woozy at my first drag,
and mellowed out for the duration.
You'll make my otherwise shaky personality
smooth.
But like rain in the summer,
you won't last long.
At least, I don't think.

There's also something about you
that makes me
want to tell you everything.
You're like a priest,
and I'm in the confessional.
I wouldn't confess my sins to anyone,
but you...
I just might.

What is it about you, huh?
Is it your boyish charm?
Your people skills?
Or is it something more menacing?
Maybe you're a psychopath
who's been studying me and my tells
to see how to get me to open up.
Maybe you're a serial killer and I'm your next victim.

I won't lie, I don't trust easy.
Maybe you're a perfectly good person,
and I just fell in love abnormally quick.
Maybe you really do love me.
But there's something about you I don't trust.

Something about you
that makes me want to run
and never look back.
You have something of a record when it comes
to girls' hearts,
and I'm not so naive as to forget
what you did to Maru,
but I can see
why they forgot to warn me
about you.

It's almost as if
you cleaned their mind
of all the atrocities you've committed.
But I won't be so easily tricked.

I won't forget what you've done.
I won't lie and say I don't love you,
because I do.
I love you with my whole heart.
But, I will not let my guard down.
I will not let you so close
you will never break my heart.
'Cause baby, you ain't no cough drop.
You're a black mamba
in the chicken's coop.

But darling, I'm the farmer
with the gun to your slick little head,
finger on the trigger,
ready to fire.

Do don't underestimate me.
Don'y you dare underestimate me.
'Cause I'm a **** assassin with my aim.
And I'm not gonna miss.
So tread lightly, little snake.
Don't bite my chickens
or swallow the eggs
and I won't shoot.
Inspired by the bag of cough drops on my desk and an old lover I no longer speak to.
AM Jun 2015
She might looks so weak and sad
But they forgot that a black mamba
Can **** with one bite and doesn't smile
Brandon Apr 2012
A spider clings to the brick and mortar wall
Facing the setting southwestern Sun
A sack of a thousand eggs hangs from her backside
Meticulously thrown over her abdomen
She watches wearily for saboteurs
Or watches hungrily for prey to quench her thirst
Her web ripples slightly from a hidden breeze
Giving the illusion of her dancing
To a lost tribal mamba
a spider that i talked to at work, she gave birth and died shortly thereafter.
Give Martin Lutherking Jr,
The cup of transfiguration,
And he shall drink from
The river of vaudeville
And thoughtless transmigration,

Listen children,
Nature taught me to drink
From the cup of tolerance,
But how can Akwasidae
Be enjoyed in praises?
That is the drums and claps of Africa
Beating and pleading violently
In excess fear and tears,

Now I know, that
I will never know
My enemies until
I become one,
Yes, I will never know
My love ones until
I enjoy the fruit of love,

Oh no, the sacred calico
Has grown weak and dim,
And the hunter has brought
A friendly mamba home,

My child, do not question
The nursing mother
Why she is raining in pain,
For the door of her anchor
Is now shattered in the
Valley of infinite darkness,
And her child is off
To serve the prelate ancestor,

Behold, the naked Gods
Have nestled their own,
And have rewarded nature
With the official dress
Of the ritual raven,
This quagmire is blood-curdling
And emotionally unfathomable.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
I'm running down the halls
Of the Infinite Hotel
Cause I don't want to turn blue
I'll keep going till I hear the bells
On black mamba's shoes
Don't want to be a sucker for
The green big-freeze
If the walls close in on me
I have a sea of pocket universes
There goes one, two and three

I'm the backwards kid
A ripple in space time
Sent from another universe
In the microwave is where you'll find me
Expanding till I burst
Don't want to be a maggot for
Your plot of earth
If the walls close in on me
I have magnets on my hands
To weave the crunch-crunch, bang-bang

I'm hurdling over sand castles
And up ahead some wide-eyed kid
Is toppling them over
Mark Mar 2020
But what of all his greatness, what then now;
Does his determined might just disappear
Into the clouds of far where angels bow?
Or dwells his gift, where gifts were shared down here?
To answer this we may need search our tears;
How Laker's passing made an ocean's salt
Form into sorrow vast that vast reveres!
To have me think eight's spirit, shall not halt.
As when with perseverance he did teach
Adored Gigi to strive for game's elite;
He does with us with ever passion's preach!
To drive us forth to seek our greater feat,

I sense within where inspiration cries:
Here Kobe lives, where Mamba never dies!
zebra Apr 2017
she became sexually excited
by the thought of being eaten
like a piece of spit roasted chicken
slow cooked
fall off the bone
melt in your mouth
**** food

as she reflected back
she could not remember a time
when she did not harbor
this venomous ache
wanting wanting wanting
what she should not want

she obsessed
some times she dare cut herself
admiring the split tissue
first thin white peaks
the emergent sticky red plush
then the little red river Nile
just a taste
better not eat to much
teeheehee

one summer evening
sitting alone
in a crowded pub
sharing a table with a strange couple
not from around here.
definitely not
may be from outer space

girl became fixated on
their presence

their intensity pierced
like a needle through a banana

both of them lean & tall
almost architectural
like black rod iron gates en-castleations
hair combed straight back jet black
like licorice

the woman wore a tight small bun
immaculate
ornate rings with enshrined family crest
manicured like Malibu real estate
both dressed to ****

girl was drawn to them
they emitted a sense of terror
thrilling her, making her sweat
they looked good enough to eat her

she felt her **** dampen
as they all peered at each other
the man, the woman
siting before her
like Medusa's
with shape shift mouths
and eyes that kiss your soul
till it bleeds
making girl feel like lamb chops
with a side of pom fritz
perhaps a glass of merlot

the woman mused at her
with eyes like black Cole
touched her hand and said
so veautiful

girl found herself in a plain house dress
******-less, bare foot
her toes had been lovingly painted
black with with rich clear lacquer
with no memory of her arrival

woman saunters in
buoyant like a pink float
******* clad

her countenance
like white seamless marble
her eye socket darkened
like pouting dark rose ****
walked to girl
kiss her mouth
then again and again
each time longer deeper sweeter
like a swarm of licking bees
i am yellow daffodils girl thought

man enters like grand swinging doors
to a great cathedral
licks kisses girls mouth
so tender
he tasted of dark butter ***
a hint of worm perhaps
touching her *******
her ******* growing attentive
**** wet wet wet
like low hanging summer fruit

man says we are not human
we are

dragool
undead
loogaroo
dampir
soucoyant


may we please eat you my love
we like for food and the darkest ***
we treasure every morsel
your blood gives us strength
your viscera a prized dark stew
your death brings us optimism
your sacrifice sustains us
we eat you with tears of blood
because we love you
and your body is our holy sacrament
you are our Christ

girl says
you are my destiny
my beloveds
come show me your love
feast on me
take me slow with kisses, black mamba tongue and razor teeth
i do not run from you my darlings

girl disrobed
centered herself on the table
spreads her self wide
like a contortionist
knees held to her chest
toes pointed
feet arched

the man and the woman
on all 4s
hovered like hyenas
first with kisses
womans *** curved like a pearl
her ******* longish as if
stretched silk
with foreboding dark plum aureoles

the mans ****
arterial contoured like a tear drop
a creeping snake with dark appetites
a dispenser of paralytic toxin and MDA
a **** thats poisons and exults
some where between love and death

each of them beautiful
girl thought ooooooowwww

there where long periods of kissing at first
then wet tongues insinuating themselves
in dark rose ****
pink primrose *****
mouths feeding mouths feeding mouths
foot adorations and then teeth and little bites
and mumblings about the grace of Satan
and uncrossing themselves
and thunderous goetic rituals
for fear that god would take their girl away
their lovely food
there sweet bleeding lover
their robe of blood
and starve them
they wept tears of gratitude
as they licked and tore flesh

the pain of their bites excited girl
oh it hurt so
braking her soul
as they ate her sweetbreads

girl
pushed passed limits
pushed past limitlessness
despicable delirious delicious
her **** inflamed

girl thought in fractured clouds
and heaping *******
before fading in to dark water labyrinths


finally she thought
i am lamb chops
with aside of pom fritz
perhaps a glass of merlot

but most of all i am girl
feeding those i love

her very last words
come my darklings
finish me now
clean your plates
drink your wine
and remember

eat up
there are children starving in Africa

— The End —