The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

June 29, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

zoriah photo

 

By

Mbizo Chirasha

 

 

Drumbeat- “Raising Mukondi” Phase2 (Brave voices Poetry Journals – The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign is this time of the year in partnership with Campio Burns Group- “From Ashes of the Fire”.  We are in solidarity with the burn survivors – Solidarity with Victims of Xenophobia, domestic and political violence, we are in solidarity with victims and survivors of burns and domestic violence, we are in solidarity with the victors who managed to pull through defying the aftermath, scars, pain and trauma.

 

We say write it, say it, talk about it, tell a story. We say poetry heals and words are a form of therapy. Let Poets from across the globe write on this cause alongside victims of burns, violence, xenophobia and maltreatment of refugees. Let’s tell our story through poetry, testimonials and flash fiction.

 

The Intervention is offered space at the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign Facebook platform (100 thousand poets for peace-Zimbabwe on Facebook). Campio Burns Group –“From Ashes of the Fire” is founded by Beulah Faith Kay, an advocate for peace, life skills coach, Poet and a literary arts activist. She works along with other great people around the world. The organisation is doing great through integrating burn survivors into communities by telling their story. We are proud to say that poetry is a refreshing form of therapy that serves heals scars, wounds and burns from inner to the outer.

 

We continue to invite our poets, new voices, regular voices, victims and now victors to send poetryrelating to the above mentioned cause and themes to Mbizo Chirasha. Thank you Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa, Pakistan, Cameroon, India, Zimbabwe, United States of America, Liberia  and Zimbabwe for taking part – Mbizo Chirasha

 

 

 

 

EVERY BIT ADDS UP!

 

 

Our King plays brutish music of the people’s cries

and rocks to it in obscene joviality.

Seeing him baring his shy hippo teeth

is a blessing to us

and comes but like Christmas

~once in a year.

Against our humble law-biding pleading,

for clemency and life,

his heart is a repellent, fortified barricade,

but a barrier raised of crumbling sand

towards his absolute, frivolous thirst

for human blood.

His ears are very sensitive antennas

far impulsive to detect waves

of his open opposition and fiery criticism.

He lives in mobility like a fugitive

and much often panic at his own footfalls,

and distrust even his own shadow,

but brags of his invincibility at public rallies,

in tirades showering toxic saliva stinking with paranoia.

Our King wipes his ass

with American banknotes

and his nose

with the British Pounds

whilst his subjects dwindle with poverty and fear.

He sips with a golden straw

for his dessert,

the people’s bloody sweat spilled in cheap labor and exploitation.

His eyesight is good towards misdeeds

but to see the worthy successes of an industrious nation

His Royal highness asks for eye lenses.

Our King is now sitting upon his balloon testicles

but blindly think he’s still reposing on his royal throne.

Next time that he shall try to sink further,

seeking for excessive comfort,

great shall be his suicide.

It’s a question of time and time alone.

For to repeatedly take the same risks, to oppress a nation!

Eventually will end in great disaster.

 

 

(By Blessing T Masenga – a bold word guerrilla, a fiery poet through his writings tirelessly and boldly seek to strip nude the oppression and the violations of basic human rights)

 

 

 

 

A  DILEMMA

 

 

Patience doesn’t pay

But only averts in a way

For they preach what they ignore to practice

And the reality remains of milking dry the victims

They swear and their vows are perjury

How I wish if I was a jury?

To roast this detriment

Those who are crying

Are recompensed with utmost pain

Those who creates awareness

And defends, justly

Are marginalized

And sacrificed on the cross

Like Christ nailed innocent

Only filthying the altar

So I beg you to rise to the occasion

Let’s fiercely expel them like demons

Another Chimurenga that drove the Smith regime

Of patriotic regiments

Driven with the passion for justice and a competent governance Patience doesn’t pay

For years we have been patiently waiting

But only in vain

Promises comforted us

Then scourged us as fool

The nation is in dire straits

 

 

(By Sydney Haile Saize I – a word guerrilla, a fighter for justice and a Poet in Residence for the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign. Haile is also a journalist, social change activist and a writer)

 

 

 

 

OF SALT

 

 

Of salt, solarium and bulga –

It came to us as salary –

Bulga is budget,

‘to be paid in salt’

Taxed and bribed in salt –

Of one ‘salt house’,

Gandhian salt march against excision,

The take home is salt

Nevertheless and bulga –

Salt and bulga

Pouched in leather, salt –

‘a hawker I buy boiled eggs from,

would feign having sprinkled

salt and spice on the yellow

and white of egg’,

For this age salt is no good –

He says with melancholy indifference

Avoid blood pressure hike,

A fistful more of salt

Meritorious reward of three salaries –

That’s a pinch of salt

And bulga?!

 

 

(By Sadiqullah Khan – The Brave Voices Poetry Journal Solidarity Voice from Pakistan, Dr Sadiqullah Khan is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan)

 

 

 

 

BLACK AND FREE

 

 

Freedom is no fear

If I could only have half that

To have a voice

To have my hands steady

To have my voice smooth

To be a black woman, free

An ugly black woman, beautiful in many ways.

 

To feel great and bold

To dance without watching my back

To walk and my steps be heard

To be a black woman, free

An ugly black woman, beautiful and strong

 

The pale think me ugly

But am an ugly beautiful woman

Fighting to be heard

Fighting to receive affection.

Fighting for respect

a beautiful black woman fighting for her children

a beautiful black woman

 

 

(By Nungari – Nungari Kabutu is a student in Kenyatta university taking English and Literature, she is involved in writing and reading poetry with a group of other young writers from campus, she enjoys reading poems by Maya Angelou (her favourite being Phenomenon woman ) and Okot P, Bitek. She also enjoys photography and swimming)

 

 

 

 

ROYAL WEDDING

 

 

Third or fourth I recall –

Good to set timeline with

The year they married

The gossip and paparazzi,

Whether to break with

Or continue stifling ceremony,

A fairytale to the young

Still unwed, or recourse

To the stump of ancientness

To display freedom against

By rebelling and

To trample under foot –

One way of refusing

Disdain to be skewed

Meaningless rite of marriage

A charioteer from

Royal stable, – on whose shoulder –

To weep, – the bride –

Or wish to demolish the house

Of stone wall –

And escape into eschatology

Of dark deaths –

But they might live bright,

The would be Queens

And the Kings accompanying.

 

 

(By Sadiqullah Khan – The Brave Voices Poetry Journal Solidarity Voice from Pakistan, Dr Sadiqullah Khan is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan)

 

 

 

 

BOLD FACE TO FREEDOM

 

 

Hers is a dark tunnel,

One I wish not to trend,

Where hope does not trend

She’s overwhelmed and depressed

what she faces is unchangeable it seems

 

Trapped in a bleak situation

with no hope for rebirth or resolve

her back bears the memories of pain

Inflicted by the one who earthed her

 

Her father one of her mother’s loyal clienteles

probably one with the insatiable desire for younger blood

She has lost her innocence to no prince charming in her secret childhood fantasies

 

Contrary to parents nature of protection

Her mother is the source of her emotional roller coaster

The marks on her hands bear witness,

the dig-ups done by the hands of a witch

Society grown cold to the cries of the unfortunate,

Abandoned too by the justice system that is potbellied from hefty bribes

She has learnt to lull herself to sleep with the stinging pain from her loins and back.

 

Today marks the end of it all she hopes,

For today she has made up her mind,

To have no one violate her to enrich the ungrateful witch

The price of her liberation a massive one to pay,

The once beautiful Natalie has no face but a mask

Her new face of liberation, the burns on her face inflicted upon her, from the steaming illicit liquor

Now the deaf and blind world listens and sees, her bold, wrinkled face to freedom Crowned at last she feels.

In cuffs the witch exits.

 

 

(By Nungari – Nungari Kabutu is a student in Kenyatta university taking English and Literature, she is involved in writing and reading poetry with a group of other young writers from campus, she enjoys reading poems by Maya Angelou (her favourite being Phenomenon woman ) and Okot P, Bitek. She also enjoys photography and swimming)

 

 

 

 

FAKE REBELS

 

 

Catch the air, – from slumber rise –

Your decadent rot, brewed in wealth

Gotten else from throttling throats,

By wearing a cap, a shirt upsleave

Retort and stage word from tongue

The poor betray and slogan monger,

In decades you never were rebel

A sworn anti-rebel in comforts live

Or amass fortunes transborder

You count yourself a rebel?

But the fashion is it a new brand

Those who are real shall soon forego.

 

 

(By Sadiqullah Khan – The Brave Voices Poetry Journal Solidarity Voice from Pakistan, Dr Sadiqullah Khan is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan)

 

 

 

 

HELLO WORLD

 

 

Hello world,

I am the voiceless voice

Stuck in black and white,

Advocating for the so called freedom;

hoping to be heard.

Sick and tired of knocking,

hoping to be heard…

Little do I know,

the other side is barricaded?

My legs are weak,

Energy tank has run dry…

I have been waiting all along,

hoping to be recognized.

But tell me how

 

 

(By Jurgen Troy Namupira – Poet, Writer and Zimbabwean creative artist)

 

 

 

 

 

The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

 

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