MANDELA IS DEAD

MAYA WEGERIF

Mandela’s Been Dead

Mandela died in July

And all the country cried for his body,

Outside the hospital 

Not knowing he was dead.

Ever elegant you

escaped your body in front of our eyes.

Black Pimpernel,

They searched for you in 1962

At train stations and bus terminals.

From your mansion in Rivonia 

To your little home in Orlando. 

It was better before they knew where you were.

When they found you

they stole your whole middle age.

When they gave you back

We stole your old.

Today your grandsons are going crazy

And everyone wants a piece of the cake

wants a piece of your face,

I feel for your name.

They have been borrowing it 

to every newspaper with ink.

No wonder you ditched your body

At the feet of that bleeping machine.

While the party debates the date to tell us

And your family fumbles

To accommodate the frenzy 

Of what your funeral will look like.

I imagine you are watching the show,

You, in the crowd for a change.

Watching us perform vigils at your corpse.

Don’t worry,

Let Zuma do his dance for the cameras

They will bury you in shoes that he could never fill.

Now that you are alone for a while

Unbutton that collar, 

sigh, Madiba,

Weep, tata.

Curse!

The ancestors will not blame you.

Confide in them openly about the mistakes you made. 

And laugh at how funny it is 

That you can finally be human now.

They will not judge you.

They have already borne witness to Freedom, the play.

You, lion

Mouthful for the praise poet!

They have not told us that you are gone.

And I thank them for their quiet. 

The only way you could rest in peace 

Is if we did not know about it.

#Poetry
#SpokenWord

WASH YOUR TONGUE

BY DIM CHIMA

Watch your tongue when your irate heart goes agog
Watch it when your eyes see a SECRETing bug
Watch it when you sip drugs and grog
Is it not the dialogue that dictates the epilogue?
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right.

I have a new spelling for the word ‘white’
It is WYT
The best thing you can do with your tongue is to use your tongue to count your teeth after listening to this piece
Wash your tongue
Brush your teeth
Keep brushing
Wash it
The tongue is an ocean
It can literally drown a nation
The tongue is a knife
Always willing to cut lives
and break hearts
The tongue is a perforated basket with leaky jaws and a weird wide mouth
Always willing to swallow solid secrets
At the expense of disposing it through her bottomless holes
Because she can never hold one bit of a secret
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right.

Watch the words your tongue lays so you don’t slay the next one by what you say any way
Anyway pray that you may not be dismayed
When you awake to see that your tongue has been detached from your mouth the next day
As a result of what you said the previous day
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right

Each day you awake, wash your tongue
Because the tongue is filled with dirty words, deadly chemicals and mundane phrases no praises
The tongue is a chameleon it can bless and curse
Save and slay
Make and dismay
It can hire and fire
Impress and oppress
Heal and kill
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right.

Wash your tongue cause whatever boils out of your breath Evaporates into the atmosphere
And the only time you can catch it back is when you try to catch your breath at death
But don’t swallow it
Because if you try to swallow your words in a gulp rush,
They will choke your throat and swell your belly after all
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right.

The tongue is too simple but complex in nature
That is why she is being manipulated to do too much chores
Hence she becomes tumultuous
Well, the tongue is not entirely dry though
If well-bred,
she reverberates the breath of God.
She buys miracle from the divine oracle
She is holy and she’s a holy weapon
A tool for spoken word
My tongue is my tooth pick
I use my tongue to prick my teeth
My tongue is my chewing stick
I use my tongue to count my teeth
So wash your tongue else nothing will be left of what is right.

#SpokenWordPoetry
Editor's Note:

Dima Chima is a young spoken word poet based in Lagos-Nigeria. As shown in the video above, he performed this particular piece at #WarOfWords; one of Nigeria's biggest poetry slam competition.

BASTARD BY BANKOLE KOLAWOLE

BankHALL™

I was that bastard

The product of a one-corner dance,

whose vagabond lips stained mucus from forgotten dreams,

whose stubborn feet slap a street of blood-hungry men.

Yes,

I was in that womb when bombs broke like a water pot

Laboured breathe dragged like a pipe on shisha pot

Mother's eyes became broken sunglasses

Too shocked to remain in their sockets!

I was born by  a woman

who became a talking drum that couldn't utter a word;

a woman whose hymen died in the hands of high men,

high men who care less of diamond, silver or gold.

Men who only dream to keep themselves awake

behind sleeper cells to plan bloody raids.

I was that bastard whose mother's thighs fell fighting;

fighting third legs forcing toes into her (w)hole,

mobilizing warship to desecrate her temple.

Yes!

I was that bastard!

#BastardRants

#Bastard

#Vagabonds

#Poetry

#SpokenWord 

#SpokenWordPoetry

#Pain 

#WarTorn

#War 
#Syria
#Somalia
#Benue
#Nigeria
#Africa
#Asia

#SoundOfSadness

#SoundOfSages

Picture credit: cnn.com