FROM MOZAMBIQUE TO SOUTH AFRICA AND THE STRUGGLE IN BETWEEN
from Mozambique to the belly of the queen mother Afrika,
we were born soldiers, strangled from the arms of our mothers,
strangers to our engraved fathers in their early graves,
starve and strive in the command of our commanders,climb
and fall hills of many mountains, with countless bodies i carried
in my arms, moved from one camp to another, with blood of my
comrades fled in the river, as crocodiles tumble and roles with
them, they scream and cried while we crossed the Crocodile River.
a refuge toe to giant Afrika our queen mother, this has become
our home too, regardless of the chaos we've rendered. i know no
memories but nightmare in the surface of Mozambique, they see the beauty of its minerals and crops, the tremendous sea and scattered
informal settlement for farming left by my people to south
Africa, but in true essence i see graves, grenades, and guns
buried in the bodies of my comrades from Mozambique to
south Africa and the struggle in between

Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
Albania needs hellopoetry
Algeria needs hellopoetry
Andorra needs hellopoetry
Angola needs hellopoetry
Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry
Argentina needs hellopoetry
Armenia needs hellopoetry
Australia needs hellopoetry
Austria needs hellopoetry
Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry

The Bahamas needs hellopoetry
Bahrain needs hellopoetry
Bangladesh needs hellopoetry
Barbados needs hellopoetry
Belarus needs hellopoetry
Belgium needs hellopoetry
Belize needs hellopoetry
Benin needs hellopoetry
Bhutan needs hellopoetry
Bolivia needs hellopoetry
Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry
Botswana needs hellopoetry
Brazil needs hellopoetry
Brunei needs hellopoetry
Bulgaria needs hellopoetry
Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry
Burundi needs hellopoetry

Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry
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Cameroon needs hellopoetry
Canada needs hellopoetry
Central African Republic needs hellopoetry
Chad needs hellopoetry
Chile needs hellopoetry
China needs hellopoetry
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Comoros needs hellopoetry
Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry
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Costa Rica needs hellopoetry
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Croatia needs hellopoetry
Cuba needs hellopoetry
Cyprus needs hellopoetry
Czech Republic needs hellopoetry

Denmark needs hellopoetry  
Djibouti needs hellopoetry
Dominica needs hellopoetry
Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry

East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry
Ecuador needs hellopoetry
Egypt needs hellopoetry  
El Salvador needs hellopoetry
Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry
Eritrea needs hellopoetry
Estonia needs hellopoetry
Eswatini needs hellopoetry
Ethiopia needs hellopoetry

Fiji needs hellopoetry
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France needs hellopoetry

Gabon needs hellopoetry
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Georgia needs hellopoetry
Germany needs hellopoetry
Ghana needs hellopoetry
Greece needs hellopoetry
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Guatemala needs hellopoetry
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Guyana needs hellopoetry

Haiti needs hellopoetry
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Hungary needs hellopoetry

Iceland needs hellopoetry
India needs hellopoetry
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Iran needs hellopoetry
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Jamaica needs hellopoetry
Japan needs hellopoetry
Jordan needs hellopoetry

Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry
Kenya needs hellopoetry
Kiribati needs hellopoetry
Korea, North needs hellopoetry
Korea, South needs hellopoetry
Kosovo needs hellopoetry
Kuwait needs hellopoetry
Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry

Laos needs hellopoetry
Latvia needs hellopoetry
Lebanon needs hellopoetry
Lesotho needs hellopoetry
Liberia needs hellopoetry
Libya needs hellopoetry
Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry
Lithuania needs hellopoetry
Luxembourg needs hellopoetry

Madagascar needs hellopoetry
Malawi needs hellopoetry
Malaysia needs hellopoetry
Maldives needs hellopoetry
Mali needs hellopoetry
Malta needs hellopoetry
Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry
Mauritania needs hellopoetry
Mauritius needs hellopoetry
Mexico needs hellopoetry
Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry
Moldova needs hellopoetry
Monaco needs hellopoetry
Mongolia needs hellopoetry
Montenegro needs hellopoetry
Morocco needs hellopoetry
Mozambique needs hellopoetry
Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry

Namibia needs hellopoetry
Nauru needs hellopoetry
Nepal needs hellopoetry
Netherlands needs hellopoetry
New Zealand needs hellopoetry
Nicaragua needs hellopoetry
Niger needs hellopoetry
Nigeria needs hellopoetry
North Macedonia needs hellopoetry
Norway needs hellopoetry

Oman needs hellopoetry

Pakistan needs hellopoetry
Palau needs hellopoetry
Panama needs hellopoetry
Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry
Paraguay needs hellopoetry
Peru needs hellopoetry
Philippines needs hellopoetry
Poland needs hellopoetry
Portugal needs hellopoetry

Qatar needs hellopoetry

Romania needs hellopoetry
Russia needs hellopoetry
Rwanda needs hellopoetry

Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry
Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry
Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry
Samoa needs hellopoetry
San Marino needs hellopoetry
Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry
Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry
Senegal needs hellopoetry
Serbia needs hellopoetry
Seychelles needs hellopoetry
Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry
Singapore needs hellopoetry
Slovakia needs hellopoetry
Slovenia needs hellopoetry
Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry
Somalia needs hellopoetry
South Africa needs hellopoetry
Spain needs hellopoetry
Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry
Sudan needs hellopoetry
Sudan, South needs hellopoetry
Suriname needs hellopoetry
Sweden needs hellopoetry
Switzerland needs hellopoetry
Syria needs hellopoetry

Taiwan needs hellopoetry
Tajikistan needs hellopoetry
Tanzania needs hellopoetry
Thailand needs hellopoetry
Togo needs hellopoetry
Tonga needs hellopoetry
Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry
Tunisia needs hellopoetry
Turkey needs hellopoetry
Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry
Tuvalu needs hellopoetry

Uganda needs hellopoetry
Ukraine needs hellopoetry
United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry
United Kingdom needs hellopoetry
United States needs hellopoetry
Uruguay needs hellopoetry
Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry

Vanuatu needs hellopoetry
Vatican City needs hellopoetry
Venezuela needs hellopoetry
Vietnam needs hellopoetry

Yemen needs hellopoetry

Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry

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Algeria a rich land poor people,
Angola seems to have kings,
Benin is blessed with voodoo,
Botswana blood bulls diamonds,
Burkina Faso can't cope coups,
Burundi twelve years a slave,
Cape Verde has half a million,
Cameroon got cocoa,
Chad's lake is shrinking,
Comoros has under a million,
DRC is third largest,
Congo is it's neighbour with capitals facing,
Côte d'Ivoire has few elephants,
Djibouti's on the horn,
Egypt has mummy's,
Equatorial guinea struck oil in 95 but didn't loose change,
Eritrea has 5000 running annually,
Ethiopia's great rift is pretty ******,
Gabon is subject to black gold,
Gambia got a peace of it after 65,
Great Ghana oasis of peace,
Guinea is diverse,
Bissau too,
Kenyans have beautiful smiles,
Lesotho is SA's baby,
Liberia oldest republic,
Libya needs liberty,
Madagascar where are the penguins!
Malawi has warm hearts,
Mali is 8th,
Mauritania is 11th,
Mauritius marvel,
Morocco fine leather,
Mozambique keeps the dugongs,
Namibia Windhoek ah,
Niger after a river,
Nigeria makes zuma rock,
Rwanda listen,
Sao tome and principe 2nd smallest,
Senegoals,
She sells Seychelles,
Sierra Leone free?
Somalia loose,
S. Africa reign,
South Sudan independent?
Sudan - black,
Swaziland more than solo men,
Tanzania trade,
Togo up down,
Two knees yeah,
Uganda teacher come simeon,
Zambia's peace?
Zimbabwe got rid of Mugabe.

Always thought zed was co.za but we're actually co.zm,
so what's zim?

One way we'll loose change is when the overseers begin to acknowledge the under looked.

-nyanta

Tropical sun shines sharply, forcing faces down
The penitent position
Of a man newly hung
“When the elephants fight
It is the grass that suffers.”

Refugees slide slowly toward the ragged edge
Diaspora into darkness
Shoeless journey into air
“When the elephants fight
It is the grass that suffers.”

Dusty human mosaics burn slowly in the sun
Fragile forms holding hope
Home, when the game is done
When the elephants fight
It is the grass that suffers.

At his little hippie college
he shows me a *** that looks like a wall
in a Rwandan museum, all skulls, he

learned clay in the Rift Valley
boarding school, on a kick wheel,
still his favorite

My brother is a potter
multicolor plaid shorts
little goatee

Banjo
Japan dreams
girl from Mozambique.

When we were little in Loiyangalani
we made tiny huts out of obsidian
while our Rhodesian Ridgebacks

sniffed the ground for cobras
sand vipers
scorpions

while twenty camels
walked by in a row
followed by tiny replicas

My brother is a potter, says to me
'When I am doing this I am
doing what I was created to do'

He makes a green and blue
candleholder for me which he calls
'The Islands,' light escapes through many holes

which look like sea turtles
pockets of air and
an atomic bomb just gone off

we turn off the lights
in my room in the hood,
snorkel in candlelight

My brother gives me
Rumi, incense, peace flags
We walk the silent night

smoke a clove
look at stars
like we used to do in the African riverbeds

Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa

What's in Africa? What's there to see?
I asked myself on the New Year's eve
I thought that I was good in geography
But I didn't know Lagos or Nairobi

I might be ignorant, I have to admit
About Africa I knew just a little bit
The great Sahara - sands of mystery!
The Nile river - so much history!

Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa

Namibia, Nigeria, Niger, Angola, Algeria
Burundi, Benin and Libya, Lesotho and Liberia
Burkina-Faso, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, Ghana
Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Gambia

I saw a film on Serengeti Park
A one of a kind, a must-see landmark
I watched a documentary on pyramids of Giza
They're much much older than Mona Lisa

I heard that oldest coffee plants
Take their roots in Ethiopia's land
And that samba, rumba, funk and jazz
Take their beats from African drums

Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa

Cameroon and Congo, Malawi, Mali, Morocco
Côte d'Ivoire and Kenya, Mauritius, Mauritania
Tunisia, Tanzania, Eswatini, Eritrea
Sudan, Senegal, Somalia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan

You can travel around cities of Africa
Like Cape Town, Cairo or Casablanca
If you're in love or plan to be
Go to Zanzibar, feel that ocean breeze!

Climb up mount Kilimanjaro
Watch the zebras cross the Masai Mara
If you're adventurous, you're a dreamer
Take a wild trip down Zambezi river

Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa

Comoros, Chad, Cabo Verde, Democratic Republic of Congo
Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Togo
Madagascar, Mozambique, Central African Republic
Sao Tome and Principe, South Africa and Seychelles

Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland, I'm on my way to Africa!

I am mama Africa, mother of humanity
My soul flows in all people in all places
I am Queen of Shebah the essence of beauty
You see me in people, people of all races.

I am mama Africa yes, I'm the Ashanti Gold
look at my jet black soul, I am forever young
I am ancient, dark, golden glorious to behold
Akwaba my children, sing me the Ebone song.

I am mama Africa, I gave birth to Mozambique
See all my plains spread from ducor to Cairo
Green my fertile soil, dark my soul so unique
I am mama Africa, roots of mount Kilimanjaro.

I am mama Africa, adorned with wealth infinite
Watch my strides, I represent perpetual grace
Hear me my children, cease to fight and unite
Come all ye spirits of Uhuru ,all I want is peace .

So I think I am just writing for the sake of writing tonight, and with that being said let me just say this.

As this ship pitches slowly but surely and we make our steam for the prospect ahead, I am overcome with an anxiousness and desire to leave the ocean and begin my work. I had a dream of going to Haiti the other night. It was a disturbing site to see. Crumbled buildings covering broken bodies, covered in the tears and blood, casting fear of the unknown into those that were unfortunate enough to be left behind. An already broken, already poverty stricken country now sent further into depths of disparity. Children sit on cracked side walks eating mud cakes lacking all nutritional value, only to fill their empty bellies with dirt and mud. Mothers are still in search of their children and loved ones.
I see the pain in their eyes, yet I know that at this moment only my prayers go out to them. I desire to go, to bring peace, hope, and if not any of the above, maybe just rest to their restless wandering.

I need your help. I need you to desire a change. Not just in Haiti where the need is obvious, but in the Dominican, in Turkey, in Cambodia, in Mozambique. I need you to see that they need you. If you yourself are unwilling, or unable to go; if you yourself are not willing or not able to get on that plane, that boat, that horse, that bus, or whatever it takes, and go be with them physically, emotionally, and spiritually, then I need you to support this cause. We are a blessed nation, a blessed people and we take so much for granted. We have a choice of not just what we will eat, but where "want" to eat. We have the choice to buy our Ipods, our movies, our magazines, our make-ups, and our clothes. These people don't. They don't know what they will eat. They don't even know that they will eat. Their clothes are torn and in shambles. They might not even have a single pair of shoes to protect their feet, yet I know that some of us have more shoes than we know what to do with.
I need you to recognize that there are people in countries like china that will work 18 hours a day in order to make your clothing, your shoes, your toys, and at the end of that day not even be able to afford what they have just made for you with their tired hands.
Do you recognize the cost of our lifestyle?
Will you help me bring something back to those hands? Will you help bring a small light into their world? Will you choose to love someone you have never met? Will you choose to care?
Because I do. I choose to walk with love for people in this world. I choose to care about the people that I have never met, and I am ready to go and give back to the world that has given so much to me. I want to be part of the revolution in this world, and I will do it in the name of the Lord Jesus. I will walk by faith, with hope in my heart and a promise on my lips. I will feed those that I can, clothe the naked, and care for the sick. I need you to want to as well. And if you do, then you can help this race against time. Support me on this mission. I need your prayers, I need your gifts, I need you.
Will you choose to help this world?
Support me on the World Race at

WilliamDiefenbach.TheWorldRace.org

~William Diefenbach
Contact me @ WeDiefenbach@gmail.com

Ritmos de la esclavitud
Contra amarguras y penas.
Al compás de las cadenas
Ritmos negros del Perú.
De África llegó mi abuela
vestida con caracoles,
la trajeron lo' epañoles
en un barco carabela.
La marcaron con candela,
la carimba fue su cruz.
Y en América del Sur
al golpe de sus dolores
dieron los negros tambores
ritmos de la esclavitud
Por una moneda sola
la revendieron en Lima
y en la Hacienda "La Molina"
sirvió a la gente española.
Con otros negros de Angola
ganaron por sus faenas
zancudos para sus venas
para dormir duro suelo
y naíta'e consuelo
contra amarguras y penas...
En la plantación de caña
nació el triste socavón,
en el trapiche de ron
el ***** cantó la zaña.
El machete y la guadaña
curtió sus manos morenas;
y los indios con sus quenas
y el ***** con tamborete
cantaron su triste suerte
al compás de las cadenas.
Murieron los negros viejos
pero entre la caña seca
se escucha su zamacueca
y el panalivio muy lejos.
Y se escuchan los festejos
que cantó en su juventud.
De Cañete a Tombuctú,
De Chancay a Mozambique
llevan sus claros repiques
ritmos negros del Perú.

Tarmac melting underfoot
Sehr gut
jawohl
mein herr

but Germany's not here
and I definitely
am not there

I'm just approaching blighty
tapping lightly on the door
there's no one in the house it seems
what did I come here for?

I could have gone to Mozambique
the place in Dylan's song
but I'm still tapping on the door
what's taking them so long?

Zanzibar is not that far
I could be there instead
or I could get in my car
and drive across
the oceans in my head.


I'm here
no beer
not *** of tea for me
I think the island's all closed down
and they've sailed over the sea.

He'd been watching the world
Through a whiskey glass,
Seeing every distorted image
Of her that passed.

A decade ago,
They were adoloscent children
Living on their parents' means-
Adolescent children,
With adolescent, childhood dreams.

Sometimes, it takes separation
To recognize guilt,
The meaning of content,
What matters and what does not,
What lives, and what will rot.

Whiskey, they say,
Has a habit of wiping you away;
Legend states that
If you pour it over a broken heart,
The cut will heal...
But legend also has a way
Of blending what is false
And what is real.

Skip a few heartbeats
And a few pyramid schemes,
Stop half-way and you'll see
How they did love eachother once,
But not like she needed to,
And he
Not as much as those childish dreams.
Chalk it up to loneliness,
Weariness, curiosity,
Or what have you,
But there was an intimacy,
That much is true.

Sometimes, it takes lonliness
To reach an understanding,
A sense of self,
How to keep your heart upon a shelf.
Sometimes,
If you can figure out the grief,
You can figure out the relief.

He'd been watching the world
Through a whiskey glass,
Noticing how those images passed,
Feeling he was free at last.

Standing silently upon his raised throne,
His stage,
His front porch to the world,
He played his fiddle
Like an Appalachian yell,
So that even the dust in the air
Hung on every note
As they rose and fell.
They fled from the man in perfect time,
Like jewels falling from the crown,
Like a storm leaving its cloud,
Like Earth birthing her leaves and grass,
Like memories
From an empty whiskey glass.

What I mean to say,
Is that if you're sitting there,
Listening to 'Mozambique',
And trying to figure out
What happened to 'you and me':
Release me from you
Like an Appalachian yell-
Yell, yell,
Until to feel the quell,
For I have screamed you out of me,
And then,
At last,
'You and me'
Can both be free.

In the midst of thoughtless sand
Just off the coastal road
Where systematic palm trees
Provide just about the only distraction,
Ronnie runs a run down hotel
There in the gulf of Aqaba.
He knows his job well,
He's letting the place cool down a little.
He often sleeps in the day, at reception,
And he's got a glass eye that doesn't blink,
You can book yourself in for one night only
Unless Ronnie has know you,
Has seen you before,
Someplace shady, perhaps,
For it is said that,
Ronnie's tanned for several lifetimes..
Stay a night and
He'll treat you well,
For he's always up for a drink
And his pocket holds more than one light,
He says he used to be Egyptian royalty,
But now he's got his own cabin here
A bit out of sight.
But that's not where he keeps his things..
His cupboards are blank
And his blinds are eternally drunk,
They never come up.
He says he's known this bunk a while,
About the time fame went  aside
And the rain got into the swimming pool,
And now  you can watch it bloom with niffy pride.
And so half a bottle goes
And midnight it arrives,
And Ronnie sits you down in his dimly lit back room
And begins to tell you about the kind of people he can find:
Those who want to bring you luck,
Other who'd sell you gold at half the price,
No muck,
You may shrug
As he claims to know where the good times dock
And the bad times kept at bay,
And though he admits that he never had a close shave
You notice a scar on his cheek.
He was a minion in the spice trade
Before that war in Mozambique,
A model soldier he was
Credulous & meek and
Conveniently stupid,
So he raged and looted
And his ***** got him booted
To sunny California,
Where he got Cupid tattooed on his upper arm,
He drank with philanthropic truckers
Smoked with greedy hippies,
And he still wears these bracelets
That look like the end of a shredded sleeve
And a pinched fedora
that had its ex head murdered,
It was down town LA that instilled in him a feel
For rough bourbon
And sweeter-than-perfect promises,
He says he'd known love
Real love too,
And sank with it
Bottomless.
He watched dreams become skeletons
And skeletons become dreams
In the cities that took shape of parodies of yore
Upswept.
You notice that he's got almost no nails left,
But he swears he never stole
And he never wept
He says he begged in his bead,
But his pleas weren't quite potent enough
His visions too misty to get handcuffed
And put to work,
So he scuffed for joy
In the midnight murk
And morning slumbers,
Safety in lascivious female numbers,
Action in cursed bottles & pills,
Castrated wonders & faceless thrills that meant nothing but fills
Merging into chaos
He was disappearing fast,
Diving towards greater liberty of thought and speech,
Skedaddling from basic options,
Throttling in gaudy plastic oceans,
Without a map, without an anchor,
He says he finished school with rancour,
The only thing he took to end..
He takes a swig before he brags
That even death might overlook his self
Eventually..
Potentially, maybe,
But you know for a fact that actually,
He's 16 years to live and that is it.
And 4 years after that nobody will remember ****.
And when you tell him that,
the morning comes,
But he doesn't **** or argue,
He smiles, puts up his thumb
And calls it a fair bargain.

Es preciso ponernos brevemente de acuerdo
aquí el buitre es un aura tiñosa y circulante
las olas humedecen los pies de las estatuas
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales

los autos van dejando tuercas en el camino,
los jóvenes son jóvenes de un modo irrefutable
aquí el amor transita sabroso y subversivo
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales.

Nada de eso es exceso de ron o de delirio
quizá una borrachera de cielo y flamboyanes
lo cierto es que esta noche el carnaval arrolla
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales.

Es preciso ponernos brevemente de acuerdo
esta ciudad ignora y sabe lo que hace.
Cultiva el imposible y exporta los veranos
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales.

Aquí flota el orgullo como una garza invicta,
nadie se queda fuera y todo el mundo es alguien.
El sol identifica relajos y candores
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales.

Como si Marx quisiera bailar el mozambique
o fueran abolidas todas las soledades.
La noche es un sencillo complot contra la muerte
y hay mulatas en todos los puntos cardinales.

Yes,
the sea too is here
in the sand on the shore
on the rising of the tides
in the very air,
I believe
as I
breathe
that the sea is here.

I reach up
to the bell and it sells me its melancholy still tinged with the smell of spice from some distant shire
and the whispers of smoke that signalled a welcoming fire, the owl hoots as if in sympathy for the sightless.

If I am blind then I have touched upon ancient mystery in this foreign land which feels like home to me.

In the heat, in the haze and wandering through the winding maze
I see a shadow or maybe a figure, never sure which one is bigger, but nevertheless,
I see.

It is of course, a trick played by the sea upon the albatross, a mirror into which It takes its reflection as mine.

I came upon, sometime in the early morning, an elderly giant who told me, that each movement of each grain of sand on the shore is one more than the movement of one grain before and it appeared to me to be true.

The steps march ever upwards,
making furrows in the whitestone, a million tired limbs coloured by the days length and the clock move slowly.

Mozambique cuisine, no finer table have we ever seen and
sounds from a radio behind the green doors of number 32, the street name like the radio station unknown, but the music plays melancholy and I am back to the toll of the bell and the smell of spice.

gushing strong waterfalls
surge to Indian Ocean
Kipling called it greasy-grey
on the horizon: Mozambique

There stands our Novel Chamberlain
Xenophobic uber-prat with top dog pretensions
a weak chine coward showing profile unrefined
goggles dark, black shirted.shameless bully craves attentions
parody of a man mired in semblance exuding puerile ignorance fine
insipid pale republican Tonton Macoute compensating his limitations

There stands our novel Chamberlain
a oaf with mildew loaf, the  ubiquitous Brown shirt warrior
he's here, there pontificating absurd prose worthy of disdain
cringing vocabulary, warped voyeuristic styles, he straddles Parlio
emitting odious **** of a mentally deranged finding shelter in de rain
basking in mock praises from acolytes and accounts in his alter-egos

There stands our Nonentity Chamberlain
the charlatan of all poetic sides and raconteur un- magnifique
he's eaten in Laos, slept i Siberia, climbed the Laurent and lion slain
been all over the world, bedded women from China to Mozambique
he is a trialist, finalist, racialist, specialist, a fantasist, all but not plain
as he sits in ***** drawers in a dingy room masking his life oblique

There stands our 'no-mark' Chamberlain
dark shades and black T-shirt a poser fantasizing he is a G-man
look behind the facade and see the under-endowed troll insane
a coward, a nasty, witless, brain addled yob and **** fresh in a can
show me the confident wholesome being who does like this knave
a fake con artist, buffoon, with the pretentious guise so much in frame



,

for the sort of people who were
camel jockeys all their life,
and never found any sedative
component of alcohol...

                              there is no
sedative allure in, alcohol?
  please find me the name
of the pusher, who supplied
     barbiturates for nietzsche...
herr doktor...

maybe you're talking to the wrong
whites,
or there isn't enough
oasis allure for what
these camel jockeys find
alluring... being strapped
to a ******* sundial...

oh yeah... dodo project:
1 on 1....
                 the day when english
psychiatrists
are an authority,
on the neurological study
done by ****** doctors...
that day...

  i'm about to heave a heavy
sigh of relief and say...
thank god i didn't
produce offspring...
i'm... way off...
being given less
the ****: arbeit macht frei
orders...
to being given
               futility per se
dancing: get the **** out
of 'ere limbo status!

"you" are my "here"
and my "now"...
       you take over...
now... you do...
you people with a past...
people with a history...
pople with fidgety
finger tips....
               you want your
******?
  thank **** we will
have your Taj Mahal
and Zimbabwean
beauties to make matters
more... clarifying...
good...
  ich sagen,
          alles güt!

                  oh i'm not here
for the streit...
there is no...
reaching into the germanic
confusion of pronouns...

   you know the difference
between...

ich kampf...
and mein kampf?
ja?
that ich, is indefinite!
mein?
that's definite!
                    
i struggle: indefinite...
want this lesson
in grammar?
you... ******* scold
of a worth of being?!

             we can have
lessons in grammar,
all-day-long...
until you
start screaming the name...

Hilga!
so eating pork and drinking
beer...
all bad...
alcohol will
never be associated
with sedatives?
     güt! alles güt!
jawohl, mein enigma herr.

   i em con-confused?
Zimbabwean ivory beauties!
coming...
                 wündérbār!

mögen mich,
aus zucken
via eine Picasso...

    ziemlichgesicht...
     all round: bravo!

ich hure meinselb zu
sprechen etwas deutsche...

no... i will not ****
your niqab bound bounties
of beauty...
or your
Zimbabwean ivory beauties...
your... pearls
of Mozambique...
retro **** wits...

                you jog...
on the ******* tread-mill...
you do that...
me? watch me...
do the dodo...
           i'm...
all... airy-*******-weary
of having to be argued for
a basis of: to continue...

    no...
you heard me...
no...
        
        you take your white
***** and excavate the ? pointer
on mars...
   i... am doing the Pilate...
            pose...
there is a grammatical
difference betweern
ich kampf
and mein kampf...
yeah...

               the first is:
indefinite... dispossesive...
          the latter is
definite... possesive...

i felt it was worthwhile
to learn some german,
before i anticipated
to die...
                  because...
i somehow forgot to keep
in tow,
the ambition designated
surrounding the upkeep
of genes...
like...
i forgot where ******
came from,
and the subsequent
camel jockeys...
like... OOPS!

        must have
      misplaced "them"...
alles güt...

and thank ****
i will not be screaming
the takbīr
to where i'm going...
so...
is screaming the takbīr
akin to... like... performing
            the hajj?

i just, want to know,
because,
i simply...
don't want to know...

oh i want to play
the ignorant drunk
dumb-**** european...
maybe,
just maybe...
i will step up my "game"
from camel-jockey-*****
does the coco
didlo ride-on...

oh, believe me,
i too want to "feel"
something...
-esque this narrative...
but it's like...
i have some sort of variant
of amnesia...
like...
forgetting to reach
a hard-on...
when... the bun is
buttered and ready
for processed meats
in an elongated "pose"...

i want to... care...
but the last increment
of me, strated
to whisper... alles güt...
and i began to remember...
oh.. this isn't me?
oh... right...
      
   thank god i am man,
and not an insect,
making myself
alligned
to some sub-human
collective of either
muslim, brown tinged,
or... ant or termite.

   good to know
i have been endowed
with a coping mechanism
to stage
a dodo coup;
but i know all the pretty
brown boys will
fight hard,
to forever keep
their hard-ons...
for white ******...
who...
without specimens
akin to me...
will start...
   becoming more and
more rare!

A man from Poland is a pole
that makes a German one a germ ?
then one from Holland is a hole
and from Peru must be a perm

If one from Scotland is a Scot
and an Australian is an Aussie
so one from Botswana is a bot
and from Mozambique a mozzie ?

Then every guy that lives in Greenland
must be turning greenish
i think it's best I move to Finland
and this stupid poem finnish

This time,
You mistimed,
And went too far,
Why on them,
Why them,
Why not the Americans,
Or on them,
Why not the British,
Or on them,
Last time I said it,
And I fell victim to lambast,
You had destroyed Mozambique,
By your terrible storms,
The other time,
I said it again,
You are racist, xenophobic and full of favoritism,
And your stubborn supporters again did it,
Lambasted me badly,
You had brought to us your terrible xenophobia,
And today why Lord,
Why on the people of Haiti,
Why on poor Haiti.

“No more eating crickets and scratching like a monkey in heat for me!” Exclaimed a non-****** who wishes to remain unnamed. ~ “I thought that only black lives mattered,” opined a non-****** while boarding a camel for Mozambique.

“No more eating crickets and scratching like a monkey in heat for me!” Exclaimed a non-****** who wishes to remain unnamed/unmaimed. ~ “I thought that only black lives mattered,” opined a non-****** while boarding a camel for Mozambique.

“No more eating crickets and scratching like a monkey in heat for me!” Exclaimed a non-****** who wishes to remain unnamed. ~ “I thought that only black lives mattered,” opined a non-****** while boarding a camel for Mozambique.