My Distant Sister ~ Xolile Sizephe ~

Ten crippled someone was dialled but no phone rang. No one came charging in while the lights were out in her room… damn

The vibrations of her silent phone call shook my subconscious and lead me to that the unseen crime scene where the white outlines of childhood died. I Took a look at cadaver and what I saw was tell signs of struggle: wet lines that ran from eye to jaw, I singled out helplessness as the cause, next I came across puddles of tears drops, evidence of broken hearts and dejected dreams, so I followed these forlorn streams to blue coloured arms hidden under the long sleeves’ of cover ups, lies and social awkwardness to elude the questions and fuss.

The pieces were falling into place this child’s damp and aged face and eyes look like they have stared the devil in the face… maybe they have because she closes her eyes but doesn’t fall asleep. in fear of falling further when he creeps into dreams that aren’t mothered by imagination. Her nightmares trickle into reality. She is incomplete as her soul is filled with holes but I can’t get a ballistic match, I can’t dust the fingerprints on her thighs, I can’t calm her and tell her it will be okay when she cries. Father give her strength to make that call and forgive us all for simply listening and not acting. I can’t continue my investigation I can’t get her testimony cause the emotions of hate she feels fall out the jurisdiction of my page! But I can hold her hand lovingly in prayers and hug her tight never wanting to let go of my distant sister in my hopes will she heal only tomorrow knows.

Case closed

BrokeNscribE


© 2009 X Sizephe

... ~ Joseph Nii Allotey ~

who cares if lil children are dying,
afterall we watch their mother's crying.
we kick em in their stomachs even as they are dying
and look upon their infants as tho they are prying.
who dares accuse the other of lying,
when secretly both parties are smiling.

there is no solution, remedy, or resolution.
must wars continue without absolution
or are all our hopes and dreams tied to an illusional evolution?

© 2009 J N Allotey

Young Men's Struggles today ~ Joseph Nii Allotey ~

struggling young man had his palm glued to his head by the sweat of his brow

no matter how hard he worked, life always dealt him a fresh blow

Downcast, he surrendered to what he did not know,

nearing the end, every beating heart tends to take it slow.

Struggling young man released a deep sigh

all the while his eyes remained fastened to his left thigh

from the bar stool where he sat, he felt quite 'high'

regretfully he new in a few moments he'd have to say goodbye

Struggling young man swallowed a pill,red or white, he could no longer feel

He knew in phases his life would begin to peel,

His final moments, captured on life's golden reel.

© 2009 J N Allotey

My Thought ~ Lerato Sinaye Dowse ~

Tell me how Am i supposed
to write about ubuhle be Afrika xandibona
ukonakala..
OOOyyyiiini, Khanindimameleni
Ndimncinane ndingaka ndineecginga ezivuthiweyo..
Why wont you listen to us Zuma,
phela kwento oyaziyo zingooma zase'khwetheni
kwaz'ba uqhayisela bani kwedini ndini...
Ilizwe lethu laafa nguwe,nezi Youth League zakho
zikrwada, abazi nes'mamva, nto bayaziyo
ku thula oo Tata bethu ezihlalweni zabo...
benditshilo ndathi, ndinomlomo ovuthiweyo..

Arent we supposed to boast about our Beauty,
of a good lost heritage,
civilisation....Africanism...

Makhosi, if you can
throw your bones ask my forefathers
Tlatlamatjolo,
Mvelinqangi
Mfo ka Sisulu
Qamatha, Hector

YOU died for this freedom
to take it back....
its too much for the black man.....

© 2009 L S Dowse


finally a piece in an Afrikan Language more is to come . . .
as I said before it is the time of the Afrikan Writer!

Awakening ~ VuyoKazi S Yonke ~

Awakening to the dawn's lustre
Golden rays of light in my hand
Colouring the canvas in grand
Bold design, with words to mend
The pieces of a once broken land
Back to its natural beauty, our Motherland

Awakening to a collective voice
Resonating to the depths of my core
Documenting our legends and folklore
Witnessing Africa's ascent off the floor
Rising up, heading towards the door
To redeem her former glory once more

Awakening to lyrical harmonies
The dancing wind carrying on its wings
Evocative chantings of new beginnings
In harmony with the rhythmical drumming
Of Mother Nature's heart beat resounding
Intertwining tapestries of every living being

Awakening to a timeless dream
Of a place where stars radiate in daylight
Hand toting the swelling moon bright
Bathing Africa's dreams in glowing light
The poet's pen potent in its might
Catapulting thoughts to new heights

Awakening in majestic Africa
Bearer of life, cradle of humankind
Vessel of light, illuminating the blind
Spirit of knowledge,nourishing minds
In her treasure chest the world will find
Love that bind ties, uniting all humankind

© 2009 V S Yonke

Writings I Like...

The time of the Afrikan writer is now, and it is the responsibility of the Afrikan Writer to enlighten misinformed peoples of the world on Afrika's true identity.

This portal serves as a platform for some of the finest Afrikan Literature that I discover in its purest unedited form.

The material found here belongs to the respective writers and as such all copyrights rest with the writers in question.

Read, peruse and ingest...

commentary is extremely welcome...

revelations . . .

Its seriously ironical,
how they erect metal monuments
to self-proclaimed greatness
but alas
these structures are set pon clay foundations...

Our self Proclaimed champions sold us out
before ever picking up paper-machie spears
in the pretext of defending Afrika and
upholding her honour.
They stand guard as
confused cocktails intoxicate, rape and ravage her
self-same wimps turn around and piss on her
with claims that they working african magic to heal her wounds...

we cannot desire Change if we are unaware of our reasons for seeking her out
as such she will play us like a harlot scorned
others of confused decent have abused her
and continue to parade her nakedness
dragging her once good name
through dirt spewed from
they ever increasing deceptive activities.
Yes you Can!

the question still remains as to What Can you?

to fully understand and grasp our destination
we must acquaint ourselves with our story
nuff of history
the point from whence we came
must be known, otherwise
aimless wanderings,
exiled at home
such shall be our infinite plight....

fundamentalists ran amok in silent protest

witnesses guised in plain's view

manipulated the picture now sits skew

democracy an imported, ill-designed non-remedy

tragedy - is our static kinertia

re-educate, re-genesis . . .

© 2009 Emon Firé