Our slums reek with gossip and tabloids, smoke filled slums   born out of emotion and sex, with goofier generation grown to enjoy borrowed bread and stolen cookies, motivated by hate and greed

Alcoholics, smelling with opportunistic wounds

Slums filled with crescendos of verbal assault and crude lingos, with novices bunkering for fame and gain

Slums empty of totems, choked by crap graffiti and gutter slang

Slums sitting on diamond, when people are demented by poverty

Toothless slums that will not sing the anthem, with puppets tweeting scandals,

Bullet riddled slums seeing life through the bottom of the bottle, waving goodbye to freedom, sniffing their lives in beer bottles and wine jars

Gossip is the unpleasant fart of the slum

Somalia, blood is welling up in your once smiling mouth

Bamako, howls of laughter sink in claps of gun drums,

Slums coughing pollution

Kiberia, your children lulled by the staccato of grenades,

Grenades bruising the soft palms of this earth

Gorongosa dancing in rain, stench of death lingering in raituri, smelling rotten typhoid



A slum is a fart of a dying city, smelling the scent of aborted republics with hoodlums burning republics in charcoals of hatred,

While republics beat their burnt flesh, mothers wince, licking their stab wounds

A slum is the wounded soul of a burnt republic, it is rubble haunted by propaganda

A slum is a ball of saliva released from the tired scarred chests of parliamentarians,

It is a township castrated by verbal diarrhoea, slang and skokian

Khayelitsha- you are the golden sun setting over hills

Bangui, you are the dance of a puppet

A slum is a republic in intensive care infected by propaganda diabetes and slogan asthma

Eczema, itching   the skin and the soul of the state

It is a gang of roaches drinking the super cream milk of the state

, it is the howling laughter from   booze scorched throats.






I am Biafra sitting on oil

I am bleeding uranium and tea

I am a griot loaded with ashes and flesh of Sambisa,

Carrying whistles and obscenities of wrong revolutions, roasting daughters for supper

I am a griot weaving words in wind and on wood

I was born with hunger to be free, I was not born free

I am a griot vomiting xenophobia and the past,

Planting freedom in the Volta of sankara

I sing of Congo, that lost its bread, season and its sand,

Peasants drunk with bitterness tried to die.

Iam a griot of Bujumbura, watching Ebola eating supper with republics

Copper pregnant Kalinga-linga dancing in darkness, borrowing guns for once aborted revolutions

I clutch this land in the soft and hard palms of my hands

Africa of one flag and one anthem, why burying revolutions in shallow graves

like stray dogs?



Sing Maiduguri, a symptom of unfinished struggle

Death walking naked in deafening forests of warange

See children planting bullets like maize in bokungu

We have lived to  taste bitter fruits  in these political jungles

Dissidents chewing scorn, puppets chewing flags

The light of freedom buried under the ballot bushel

We are tired of picking scorn and grain

Propaganda foxes looting ballots to fatten their puppies and

Mother dogs

Mongers pocketing parliaments and cabinets their ragged overalls,

Salivating tongues dangling for another ballot feast

Will gods send us another black Jesus?, black Jesus to wash us in another river of dreams

Brother, poverty sits under the skin like an itch!




This country feasted on our sweat, our spirits died for this country

Country carrying bad ballots and good coups reaping tears

A Country that died many times before death

, whose revolution never saw the golden sun,

A country where bullets feed on crocodiles in rivers

Gunpowder is the scent of the forests-black forests

Erasing memories of love, a country whose heart heave with slogans and vendetta

A country on a death bed, eating the present and pocketing the past-humming the last tune.

A country, where dogs bark to their shadows, mothers yell to nothing

Foxes howling against the unsurrendering moon

We walked along the spirit of this country, a country that feasted our blood for supper

A country   with a heavy mass of history and unfinished dreams,

Whose Masses breakfast religion and propaganda-riff-raff

Cry my beloved people!

See Fundi’s writing cultural graffiti in red ink on lampposts, the country born out of the

laughter of the rifle


People crying for the country sold for bread and tea




Our hands are tired of touching the scorching sun and the roasted earth

Our eyes are red with hot ashes of the present and embers the past

Our ears are deafened by radio propaganda, propaganda wiping sins of political demi-gods

With their memories blurred by the mist of ideologies and smoke of slogans

Our hearts are heavy with sand; we see black devils walking free on this earth,

Delivering flowers of empty promises, rhyming tunes of empty freedom



Boende you sold your morning sun for a cup of tea

Darfur, I see red ants coming for you in the wake of another dawn

Bujumbura, you lost your salt in gossip

Sambisa, the pungent smell of home brewed war, permeating the nostrils of Africa

We are children of chiboko burning in the charcoal of war

When Ebola sneeze, Bissau catch a cold,

When the sun sits over hills of home, I see triplets Ebola, xenophobia and Sambisa sharing half smoked cigars after a ritual bath in tugela

Pongolo and mfolozi bleeding xenophobia

Limpopo crocodiles smelling roasted flesh, Soweto smoking imboza,

After another Marikina

Ghost of biko eating beetroot in the drama of rainbow freedom


When the sun filter its orange into this red earth, I see twin brothers renamo and Frelimo laughing out

Loud to baboons dangling in gorongosa trees.

I see children sniffing face book and colonial dope

Black monkeys learning about trees from sparrows

Khayelitsha, is the Armageddon of kwaito and booze

Enugu drunk with palm wine in the red hills of manobe,

Sankara and his ghost breakfasting, Communism in upper-Volta

Harare wincing from punches of media witches, you need holy water to wash your armpits

Brother, see the ghost of apartheid walking with the rainbow republic, crocodiles swallowing the sun,



We have walked many miles holding the same political coin,

Blaming history and patriarch

Last night Congo drank Ebola from White Nile

Copper pregnant earth of Congo

Carrying the wind of want

Her heart beating like djembe,

Monkeys sneezed flu to equatorial birds

Anopheles defecated malaria in Cabinda

Biafra catching cold after Sambisa rain

Darfur, drowning in the din of rattling drums and blood dollars

, their children eating wiki leaks for breakfast and twitter mojo for supper

We oiled the revolutionary engines through song and dance,

Burning candles from both ends

Nodding to the wind of drums and beat of the gun, drunk with wind and sound

We are the children of sabalele, sharing our DNA with Hani and Biko,

Whose ghosts walk in the bling -bling of rainbow freedom, freedom still born?

Eating carrot and beetroot in Mpumalanga- the land of the sun!



Sing Maiduguri,

Sing Ogun, the god of the people

For the germination of other lives

Sing uhuru for the burning freedom,

Rains of death are beating the land into madness,

Madness breeding slums, sing Sambisa, sing Somalia!




We are the grandchildren of Nefertiti

We borrowed the propaganda leaf Lenin

Children whose mothers slept in warm pyramids of Nefertiti and cooked cassava

With nzinga

Children of Ebola and the song,

Atwitter generation and face book revolution castrated by English syntax and Latin grammar

Clad in black bandanas and rainbow flags, children fighting self and chopping own hands

Children born out flags and anthems

Children of umkontowesizwe- unfinished revolution!

Children whose barefoot chase after time, watching foot prints of god

Fading in the sun, griots of Mpumalanga bathing our demons

In mfolozi where the ghosts of chakazulu, dingani Zulu, dinizulu   drink and bath their dust.

We inherited our grammar from the nipples of our mothers, mothers who endured the choking smoke of colonialism

Mothers of baobab and the river, mothers whose souls float in soshangube.



BIO- Mbizo  Chirasha  is a Literary Arts Projects Curator , Art Activism Catalyst,  an  Internationally anthologized Poet ,Writer in Residence , Blogs  Publisher and Creative Communities Expert .

Mbizo Chirasha is the Originator/Instigator of the Zimbabwe We Want  Poetry Campaign,( http://tuckmagazine.com/tag/mbizo-chirasha/Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign /Mbizo Chirasha) (http://www.newzimbabwe.com/showbiz-39824-Poems+on+Zim+abuses+to+be+read+in+the+US/showbiz.aspx) (www.facebook.com/100thousandpoetsforpeace-zimbabwe,), (www.acaciabookstore.­com/home/­24-inside-disgrace-la­nd)


He is the Editor of Brave Voices Poetry Journal-Tuck Magazine, Word Guerrillas Protest Poetry Journal – Zimbabwe Sphere, Poets Free Zimbabwe- MiomboPublishing. Mbizo Chirasha publishes Women of resilience Profiles and Blogs on WordPress(www.personalitiesofinspiration.wordpress.com).


His poetry, writings and blog journals are widely published across the globe.Mbizo  Chirasha is a  Solidarity Member of the  Global Arts and Political Alliance(GAPA http://www.ga-pa.org/2017/11/21/gapa-meets-poem-mbizo-chirasha/,) , an African Partner of the International Human Rights Arts Festival , New York United States  (http://www.blackstarnews.com/education/education/the-international-human-rights-art-festival-highlights-poet).


Mbizo Chirasha is the Founder /Creative Director of Girl Child Creativity Project (www.girlchildcreativity.blogspot.com)

The Zimbabwe Resident Coordinator of the 100 Thousand Poets for Change- Global and the Women Scream International Poetry Festival since 2011.Chirasha has led a number of Creative Interventions and Arts based projects. He  is  the  Founder   and  Creative  Director  of  Young Writers  Caravan  Project (2003-2006) ,  Girl Child Creativity Project( 2010-Present) , Urban Colleges Writers Contest ( 2013-2014).He  was the  Poet in Residence  of the  United Nations Information Centre/Zimbabwe( 2001-2007) performing   and  reading  Poetry on annual United Nation Days and other reputable UN events  .

Mbizo Chirasha was a Young Writers Delegate of Zimbabwe International Book Fair  to Sweden( Goteborg Book Fair ,2003) , The Publishing and  Writing Delegate to UNESCO PHOTO NOVEL WRITING INTENSIVE TRAINING( 2009), The Official Poet  in Residence  of International  Conference of African  Culture and Development , 2009( Ghana).

He  publishes  Women Voices and Profiles  in  his  POI Journal( www.personalitiiesofinspiration.wordpress.com), Writing /Poetry Voices in MP( www.miombopublishing.wordpress.com) ,Water and Climate matters( www.amanziglobalwater.wordpress.com).Mbizo Chirasha  is a Poetry/Opinion Journal Contributor to  the Tuck Magazine(Brave Voices poetry Journal,www.tuckmagazine.com/mbizochirasha).

He co-edited a Ghanaian Poetry Anthology (2011) and a Nigerian Poetry Collection (2013). He is the Co-writer of the Poetry Collection Whispering Woes of Ganges and Zambezi (Cyber Press,India 2010).Good Morning President – Collection  of his experimental poetry was published by( 2013,Diaspora Publishers,UK) , A Letter to the President his  small 3D poetry Collection  of protest poetry was published by( 2017, Tiktakti Publishers in  Israel).Chirasha  Co-edited    a bilungual  Poetry  E- Journal in Germany  and English languages   with Andreas Weiland , International Poet , Translator , Publisher  and Critic in  2017   (http://www.street-voice.de/SV7/SVissue7.html).


For more information (www.wikipedia.com/wiki/mbizochirasha)

www.facebook.com/mbizo chirasha.


www.tuckmagazine.com/mbizochirasha     ,