Saturday, September 21, 2013

Your Words Are Spoken

Your words are spoken where
Knees soundly rap the ground
You songs of resistance are sang
Where legs bow into abdomens
Your sharp spears have turned into
A little boy’s blunted figurine
Your anger into self-preservation
Your rights into things that belong
To the man
Your culture into a concoction of cultures
Your mind into luffas of assimilation
Your kings into prostitutes for campaign
Your queens into campaign cheer leaders
Your sons into panga wielding scarecrows
Your daughters into sweet comforters for elders
Your leaders into empty promise bearers
Your preachers into prophets for profit
And you into sufferers for a miracle

Monday, April 15, 2013


They stood in a line
Their hearts busting with resolve
Before a thought
Before a gun shot
Before a man of power
Before another man
Awaiting orders
Before the beasts were let loose
On that mellow strip
Before being accidentalized
They stood there in a line
Not by accident
But against oppression
So we could claim freedom

Tuesday, September 11, 2012


This is self-explanatory there is nothing veiled
No buried undertone no metaphoric connotation
You will not need to open your eyes for exploration
This has been seen by the blind

This is as naked as the men cleansing in Lilongwe River
This is not said under breath
It is as loud as a the 4:30 muezzin from the road side Mosque
Going to where the bus stops

This is as persistent as the preacher at CBD
This has been between the sheets, this is the shit
This has the ascetic norms and tones
This is a poem and I cote “this is a poem”

This is a loud poem
As loud as my cosmetic friend in the back aisle
This should be said; to my loud friend
In the back aisle
This should be said without fail without regret
This ought to be said to stop this rude interjection
Shut up!
S h u t u p!
Genie in the bottle