Poems About Africa

Africa

I weep for Africa
I dance for Africa
I ululate for Africa
And sing;
And write;
And good tidings bring;
And recite;
for Africa

Africa has no replica
It is unique than Toyota Celica
But why do they call you dark?
Is it perhaps because you have black?
May be they perceive you to lack
In everything good and luck
But you never to me suck
For you have in the provision position stuck

I hovered my blindness
and with my eyes sightless,
History unveiled before my sight
And I saw you in my transcendent flight
I saw them coloured hands
Picking from your lands
Brutally, ruthlessly, gluttonously
But they that picked,
Have your name now cursed

The law was forced on your people
With whips and lashes aiming to cripple
For the success of the bourgeoisies
Coerced to shipping beyond the stormy seas
Now your children hate and loathe the law
That which to them became a flaw
Forcing their dignity so low
Like does a greater devil to a smaller devil
Never will they rise to their level

Every time your children:

Raise an idea valid;
Until by the coloured raised, it remains invalid
Can you blame them then,
When they come up with an invention
It is delayed, derailed, until it’s an innovation
If not termed by the ‘successful thugs’ a protocol violation?

I smile when your sun shines
And your children hop
And like young calves skip
Whilst in the frost the coloured scorch
Cursing their nature, which they scotch
If only you’d for them care
You would the warmth and shine share
But you bear the scars
They inflicted on you with chars

But Africa, sweet lovely Africa
Your dusty terrains rugged
Have the foxes tails wagged
And the antelope and deer
Find your jungle so dear
Your waters unpolluted
Your villages joyfully populated
You have resources
Yet they are combated by advanced forces
You haven’t an army strong as theirs
How would they let you build one with their fears?

Peace abundantly looms
And across it fills the rooms
Until their invasion,
You hadn’t known aversion
But now you tear your own
And lifelessness fills your lawn
Out of shame you need to shake up
And for your future’s sake make up
For I shout from afar like a trumpet, ‘Wake UP!’


Africa Day

Today is Africa Day,
I am not sure what to say
Even as I, with my forehead, lay
And kneel down to begin to pray
Whether Africa knows it is its day
That I know not today

I am not sure how,
Burundi will celebrate
Congo will ululate
South Africa will participate
South Sudan will integrate
Somali will operate

That Africans do not own it,
Renders Africa Day a long slit,
Cutting across a rugged skirt
Used as clown costume in a skit
African women away the day knit
And men and children care not a bit

Even I know not how to
I found out on Google too
And the trending like sky blue
Even as many of us remain blue,
Indifferent to that which is true,
Across the nations exceeding fifty-two


Africanize Africa [sestina]

That Heaven must be this far
When Africa needs it desperately
Whilst Africans are for blood hungry
For none other than black blood
Drawing machetes and pulling triggers
With a lot of sense that is nonsense

There is just too much nonsense
The reason Africa is this far
Injustice sires and hatred triggers
Selfishness and egocentrism infecting desperately
Promoting for no reason bad blood
Always eating ravenously, yet ever hungry

Time needed for feeding the hungry
Is utilized in debates full of nonsense
Provoking each other and drawing blood
Without realizing how far, far is far
Virulently taking on each other desperately
Planting bombs and pulling triggers

The deafening sound after pulling triggers
Frightens life out of the weak and hungry
Fighting for power persistently yet desperately
And crippling African power with idiotic nonsense
Seeking allies from overseas and far
Thirstily in a crazy rush for fellow blood

In our departed ancestors’ blood
There is a cry that shame triggers
But Africa is ever to busy and far
To heed that cry so hungry
Occupied in futility and nonsense
Whilst our ancestors plead desperately

Voices from black cemeteries try desperately
Urging Africa to stop spilling its own blood
But Africa mistakes the voices for nonsense
Charging further with warring triggers

Whilst African children still hungry
Depart to grab and kill from near to far

Black insurgents pulling triggers desperately
Their nonsense is pushing peace away too far
Blood is spilling while Africa remains hungry


Dusts Of Africa

These dusts of Africa
Have in the World no replica
Unique, lovely dusts

We on them dance
Our joys and sorrows at every chance
Carrying them with the whirlwind like locusts

When the rains fall,
They rise in stardom call
Like elevated satellite masts

Our seed playfully on the dusts rolls
Emerging whites with black souls
With laughter that blasts

Stained our feet
Inhaled by donkeys’ bleet
Pandora from high up for them lusts

Hail African dusts!
Hail the African dusts!
Wherein will lie our lasts!


My African Song Is Pain

My song is pain
Pain in me is like rain
Pain is my song
Have sang for so long
A dirge that defiles my lip
A dance that dislocates my hip

How I mourn for the pot
That which never cracks when hot
Which cools water for our thirst
Regardless of which of us came first
Her beauty of black
Now represents lack

From the same pot we ate
And the pot smiled at its fate
We dipped hand-after-hand
Till the pot sat on the sand
Now we shoot from afar
And think no one is with us at par

Selfishly we grumped
Now the pot is crumbled
We have authorised our death
Its spirit is ever within our girth
Look! Our foes watch!
Hark! Our enemies laugh from one couch!

For how long shall we injure the pot?
Stop this selfishness Africa!
You only put your rear on a hot spot!
Don’t imitate America
Else my song will always be pain so hot


Pacifying Africa [Sestina]

I hear bitter wails and screams
From my beloved land Africa
Hell has obviously broken lose
And no one seems to much care
Africa is getting torn apart
By that which should Africa unite

Numerous calls for Africa to unite
Are made in calls and screams
From nations stationed on the globe apart
Earnestly seeking peace for Africa
I wonder whether Africans care
Or are they happy to their blacks lose

The continent seems to its tranquility lose
And completely refuses to unite
Its people will not submit to love and care
When love calls, Africans respond in screams
And continue ripping my, our Africa
With indisputable ruthlessness apart

United Nations keeps warring soldiers apart
Claiming not another life will the continent lose
But with soldiers they infest Africa
Separating foes instead of having them unite
Thence emanates louder, anguishing screams
Till the pacifiers begin stopping to care

Do African gods in the heavens the care?
Are they happy to have African throats ripped apart?
Perhaps they feel appeased by the African screams?
For the African gods have nothing to lose?
And are pleased when we don’t unite?
That is why they have left Africa

How I wish we would unite Africa
And end the screams with care
For when Africa tears apart, we our paradise lose


Africa And Africa’s

Have seen little of history unfold
I know that one thing will always be
Africa will be,
But what is Africa’s may never be

White man came
Green lands began to dry
So did rivers and streams
Even oceans and seas

Whatever the white man sees
Seems to vanish from Africa
Like dews do in his singeing summers
When he sees peace… there! Gone

The white man said he’d in Africa invested
In actual sense he had Africa infested
Looting without shame
Claiming England is object; Africa its subject

There was gold, grandpa says
We fight over our own
Lacerate throats and disembowel ours
Man in white fuels it dressed in black

We choose our way
Dos, don’ts, and embargoes stay
When we invent, they endear us
Purporting supervision, yet looting

What is Africa’s one day will be
And shall remain African and Africa’s
What should unite Africa is Africa’s
It will never split Africa into Africas


Africa Built The World

For the World unwillingly
Africa toiled not sparingly
Like locusts in a leafy field
Africans worked without sunshield
The nations of progress
Are the showcase of African process
At heart is success
Away from thought is ‘to mess’

Look at the super power
Could have been lower
Were it not for the African back
Scorching in the sun – so black
Scotching under the lash
Never crying of situations harsh
Africa has lit up the World
But Africa is not proud

Ancestral power built
Comfy beds of quilt
But never they lay in them
Were nipped at their helm
Just like new tea leaves’ buds
Built they huts of muds
Whilst boss bossed beneath wood
Never the African pain understood

Made the spear
Chased the deer
Prepared the cuisine
Savoured fire’s pin
But never the broth
Brought by they forth
Very well commended
With kicks and blows – beheaded

Built the train
In hot drops of rain
Sweat blood

Slept sad
Woke up insane
Hoisted their vane
Piled the firewood
As Johny just stood

July chill set in
Bwere with foot carrying pin,
Detained for ‘evading’ them
‘Pretending’ he was not strong
Chest bare, but for hair
Cold floor rot his rear
Passed on a cripple
Dumped in the falls’ ripple

Now Johny says Bwere is his debtor
Bwere believes he is the creditor
Johny ‘writes off’ Bwere’s ‘loan’
Bwere yawns his bowels torn
Fathoms not who owes who
Or even who owns skies so blue
Bwere’s pain; Johny’s gain
So who harvests after the rain?


African Master
Sits cross-legged no more
Postpones every error to after life
His is nothing like strife
‘cept his bowels galore
He is the African master
And nothing should matter
Bullies wife with blow
Hushes slave to grave
Like does to chicks adult ave
Owns tracks of land
In ha more than fingers of hand
Doesn’t know how far it goes
If the river and river should burry
His hand soft like skin of goose
Yet his acts are soggy and bloody
Amass; amass; amass
Thief as much from the mass
No links with poverty
Father grabbed for son
Now son holds on like to sky, sun
Eons pass he is still the one
Monotonous in routine
Polygamous from the skin
“Do this” – his order
“Don’t be silly” – to his elder
For he is the African master
Till death to him does justice
And his seed shall suffice


Child Of Africa [Sestina]

A black child born without scar
In a home delivery if hut is home
Without the need for a nurse
Smirked on the bottom to kick life
Whose first cry called for ululations
In – the woman; out – the man

Turned too soon from boy to man
His bravery measured by inflicted scar
Of victorious encounters worth ululations
Fighting war from away and from home
Defending property by risking life
In the effort to his father’s nurse

Raised hardly knowing how to nurse
Never shedding another tear – a man
Living the whole of his life
Healing wound and keeping scar
Rarely taught how to keep a home
Wishing he could celebrate with ululations

The man loves female ululations
Yet he would never a girl-child nurse
Argues she is soonest to leave home
She will be property to another man
Nursing that other man’s black scar
Like there was no dad in her life

The black child knows that life
Is full of a zillion ululations
Some out to leave many a scar
Than any herb could ever nurse
The child knows its duty is to man
That which man should call home

The child is acquainted to any home
Provided there is only one life
Has to be different from no black man
Lest his character earns him no ululations
Scaring away many a worthy nurse
Blemishing his plight with an indelible scar

Africans don’t go home without ululations
Every one was born to nurse life
But for man, all is worthless without a scar


Heaven Too Far

That Heaven must be this far
When Africa needs it desperately
Whilst Africans are for blood hungry
For none other than black blood
Drawing machetes and pulling triggers
With a lot of sense that is nonsense

There is just too much nonsense
The reason Africa is this far
Injustice sires and hatred triggers
Selfishness and egocentrism infecting desperately
Promoting for no reason bad blood
Always eating ravenously, yet ever hungry

Time needed for feeding the hungry
Is utilized in debates full of nonsense
Provoking each other and drawing blood
Without realizing how far, far is far
Virulently taking on each other desperately
Planting bombs and pulling triggers

The deafening sound after pulling triggers
Frightens life out of the weak and hungry
Fighting for power persistently yet desperately
And crippling African power with idiotic nonsense
Seeking allies from overseas and far
Thirstily in a crazy rush for fellow blood

In our departed ancestors’ blood
There is a cry that shame triggers
But Africa is ever to busy and far
To heed that cry so hungry
Occupied in futility and nonsense
Whilst our ancestors plead desperately

Voices from black cemeteries try desperately
Urging Africa to stop spilling its own blood
But Africa mistakes the voices for nonsense
Charging further with warring triggers
Whilst African children still hungry
Depart to grab and kill from near to far

Black insurgents pulling triggers desperately
Their nonsense is pushing peace away too far
Blood is spilling while Africa remains hungry


You Don’t Read Africa

Never have you ever sat
Or beneath African Suns lay flat
You insist on rumours fat
Liken to a rainy day’s door mat
To judge where you haven’t testified
And judge what ain’t justified

You don’t read Africa
You heard it is Hell’s replica
With an oasis of virtual bliss
Where on semi-humans and snakes hiss
You watched him report
On a continent he hasn’t rapport!

Why do you believe:
That which you perceive?
As Gospel-truth lies you receive?
Those that only your mind deceive?
Making you think ‘Africa’ is synonym to ‘grieve’?

You don’t read Africa
You only read about Africa
The cradle of mankind
You believe is to mankind unkind
You help in protests
Against nothing on your list of detests
You call it charity when you commission inquests!

Can a reader read a book here
When he is only there
There where he doesn’t know where,
Where he feels and thinks is nowhere?
Read Africa from your heart
Not just when Africans hurt
You cannot read Africa miles apart

You read of Africa
You read about Africa
You read about Africa
You have read about Africa
You Don’t Read Africa

 

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