Who will cry for you when you're goneWho will sing your blues or my beautiful song
Who will lift you up when your wings have flown
I don't know
But like Maya Angelou
I know why the caged bird sings
She sings because the white man can't dance
She sings because she cries to the beat of the history of my people's past
Se sings because the white man can't jump
He can't jump the way my spirits jump
He can't jump the way my bootylicious goggles to
oh oh oh oh oh oh no no he can't jump
He can't jump an catch the white stars
Because my B.E.E velvet night is more universal than his imported cars
He can't jump and A-town stomp the Earth
Because his roots don't know what my Mother Africa is worth
His roots aren't as soul(sole) deep as I feel
Because his roots aren't as high as the click of my heels
His roots are not his own
His roots were shipped on a boat and landed on my damn African home!
The white man can't jump
I sing songs for a sista
Who is killed by lethal images of blue eyes and blond hair
I sing songs for a sista
'Cause I take pride and care
But when I sing my songs I'm told it's racist and unfair
Is it racist that after every AMEN we sing praise to a white Jesus
The last time I checked there was neither black nor white
just crucified
Because the Father had His reasons
Is it fair that I always have black written on my crown
Let me tell you
I'm sweet and chocolate to the centre
And all around
I'm not just black, but a caramel brown
What I'm protesting is more than just legal
So you go ahead and call me racist
I know I got my people
Now tell me who will cry for you when you're gone
I don't know
But hey black sista hey
For you
I will sing my songs
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Hiphop is dead (class favourite)
Hiphop is dead 'cause bling has taken over
Who will bring the beat back and ghetto love to street corners
I am a woman of colour and each one of my shades speak the truth
I am a woman of languages, tone and texture
and each one comes from a place where I am a foetus inside Afica's womb
Who gave birth to Virgin Blood and whose cries leak non stop
A place where hearts beat of African drums which they now call 'hiphop'
A place where poetry no longer becomes a gift, but a curse
Where black becomes I
I become it
It becomes beautiful
Yet why does this beauty hurt?
A place where my mother tongue has been commercialised
and sold to the slavery of ignorant minds
But after this you will have officially been poetrized
Video babes selling their 50cenct worth of oodies in Candyshops
Dancing on table tops
But no Brown Sugar, I will not llick the lollipop
So he calls her his bitch and this Anorexia becomes Mindsex
and she starves herself so that he can fit and feel better in-side there
She doesnt come from the body of a man, but the beauty of a woman
I am nobody's long-weaved bitch because
I AM NOT MY HAIR!
I had a conversation with God lastnight in search of Zion
But it's a mess
She told me she can't breast feed religion 'cause there is a lump in her breast
And this spiritual cancer is eating away faster than its kiss of death
Hiphop is dead 'cause bling has taken over
Hiphop is dead 'cause bling has taken over
So who will bringthe beat back and ghetto love to MY street corner?...
Who will bring the beat back and ghetto love to street corners
I am a woman of colour and each one of my shades speak the truth
I am a woman of languages, tone and texture
and each one comes from a place where I am a foetus inside Afica's womb
Who gave birth to Virgin Blood and whose cries leak non stop
A place where hearts beat of African drums which they now call 'hiphop'
A place where poetry no longer becomes a gift, but a curse
Where black becomes I
I become it
It becomes beautiful
Yet why does this beauty hurt?
A place where my mother tongue has been commercialised
and sold to the slavery of ignorant minds
But after this you will have officially been poetrized
Video babes selling their 50cenct worth of oodies in Candyshops
Dancing on table tops
But no Brown Sugar, I will not llick the lollipop
So he calls her his bitch and this Anorexia becomes Mindsex
and she starves herself so that he can fit and feel better in-side there
She doesnt come from the body of a man, but the beauty of a woman
I am nobody's long-weaved bitch because
I AM NOT MY HAIR!
I had a conversation with God lastnight in search of Zion
But it's a mess
She told me she can't breast feed religion 'cause there is a lump in her breast
And this spiritual cancer is eating away faster than its kiss of death
Hiphop is dead 'cause bling has taken over
Hiphop is dead 'cause bling has taken over
So who will bringthe beat back and ghetto love to MY street corner?...
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
I've been asked why I call my blog Love Child and so I figured I might aswell make it clear. It's because of this book I once read by a very well known story teller and poet, and she writes all her stories and childhood memoirs in this book called Love Child. It's vey sad, but very beautifully written. It spoke to me. I'm a love child of the world- I dont really have a place cause I am everyone but I belong to no one. Poetry is my mother, but im not a bastard child to "her". That is why I am a love child cause through the pain, love is born and so through me poetry is created like an endless circle of life...A life filled with love(d) child
ren
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Virgin Blood
Bed stained of Virgin Blood
He is satisfied, his thirst quenched
Sheets wet of Virgin Blood
She is undignified, her body drenched
Tears wept of Virgin Blood
A pool of se(a)men drown her waters and float
Herat bleeds of Virgin Blood
One by one as they f***, I mean
Rock
Her boat
Soul leaks of Virgin Blood
She is not loved, but between her legs
Bed stained of Virgin Blood
Lady of the night, with the man they call bless-ed
Sheets wet of Virgin Blood
Oh heavenly Father
Blessed be her (w)hol(e)y core
Playas play
Polygamy
Men stalk their prey
BUT
Why is she the one called a whore?
'Cause of midnight passions?
Sweet sixteen?
Filled with Baby I love you
Midnight passion it's passed your bedtime
But HIV has no curfew
Minight passion
For n9ne months they charmed and flirt
Midnight baby
Born
into a world of hurt
Midnight mother
Fot the baby she will expose of her breast
Midnight father
Midnight cheating
Midnight beatings
Midnight rests
Midnight rests
Midnight rests
And Virgin Blood
is
dead
.
.
.
.
.
.
He is satisfied, his thirst quenched
Sheets wet of Virgin Blood
She is undignified, her body drenched
Tears wept of Virgin Blood
A pool of se(a)men drown her waters and float
Herat bleeds of Virgin Blood
One by one as they f***, I mean
Rock
Her boat
Soul leaks of Virgin Blood
She is not loved, but between her legs
Bed stained of Virgin Blood
Lady of the night, with the man they call bless-ed
Sheets wet of Virgin Blood
Oh heavenly Father
Blessed be her (w)hol(e)y core
Playas play
Polygamy
Men stalk their prey
BUT
Why is she the one called a whore?
'Cause of midnight passions?
Sweet sixteen?
Filled with Baby I love you
Midnight passion it's passed your bedtime
But HIV has no curfew
Minight passion
For n9ne months they charmed and flirt
Midnight baby
Born
into a world of hurt
Midnight mother
Fot the baby she will expose of her breast
Midnight father
Midnight cheating
Midnight beatings
Midnight rests
Midnight rests
Midnight rests
And Virgin Blood
is
dead
.
.
.
.
.
.
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