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
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 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!
CHILDREN OF SONG
We are the grandchildren of Nefertiti
We borrowed the propaganda leaf Lenin
Children whose mothers slept in warm pyramids of Nefertiti and cooked cassava
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)