double-helixed uBuntu.
these interwoven veins,
dna,
double-helixed,
microscopic,
binding us, all of us,
together, as one,
species, one race,
human,
me & you
us,
all,
through
this common
shared
truth:
‘I am because you are’*
all of us
together
as one
me & you = uBuntu*
* – uBuntu is an isiXhosa/isiZulu concept that espouses the “belief in a universal bond of sharing that connects all humanity”
the tears of olives …
trickling down shrapnelled flesh
tears fall
like
blood
on
bloodied
cheek
while in the sun
lifeless bodies
lie cold as stone
still
the tears of olives
flow
salty sentinels
of memory:
pain
suffering
occupation
hunger
the tears of olives
perennially streak
etching pathways of dust
between alleyways of desolation
hopelessly bleak
yet still
the slaughter continues
as more dead bodies
rot
reek
Black Lives Are Cheap …
we’ve seen it all so many times before
you see, the truth is at its very core,
that,
black people are subhuman,
not perhaps animals,
because we treat our pets better than we treat those fucking niggers,
oh have I offended you by ignoring your politically fucking correct ‘n’ word?
well I don’t care,
because the truth stinks much much more,
the truth stinks like a massive fucking shitheap,
because the truth is,
black lives are cheap!
we’ve seen it all before, and that’s something they just don’t get,
we remember, you see, we fucking remember!
Mozambique
Chile
Vietnam
South Africa
The United States of America
Palestine,
Iraq
El Salvador
Angola
Afghanistan
Laos
The United Kingdom
Burma
Grenada
Namibia
Hiroshima
Nagasaki
Cape Town Ferguson Gaza Johannesburg Ramallah New York City London Kabul Washington D.C Jenin Tel Aviv Santiago Bulawayo Kinshasa Lumumbashi Harlem Soweto Gugulethu Mamelodi Khayelitsha Chatsworth Eldorado Park Sebokeng Lenasia Mannenberg Alexandra Township Favellas Shanty Towns Slums Informal Settlements Squatter Camps Chawls Guantanamo Bay South Central Los Angeles
we remember that our brothers & our sisters everywhere
whose hues and shades and rainbow colours
make us your number one suspect,
the rapist criminal lazy drunken hand-me-down wanting creep,
yes all of that and more
because goddammit black lives are fucking cheap!
CAN you EVEN BEGIN to understand the REASONS why We, The People, are so fucking pissed off?
Are you even human enough to acknowledge THE FACTS,
Are you capable of thinking just one more level deep?
And perhaps then you will know why,
We, The Peoples’,
us niggers,
lives are so cheap!
Walking in Gaza …
Walking amidst the rubble,
a mother wails.
The bloodied rags that once clothed her six year old daughter reeks of caked blood,
stale urine,
death.
Walking amidst the rubble,
a father weeps.
The shelling reducing the home to bits of this and bits of that,
burnt flesh,
charred memories,
death.
Walking in Gaza,
amidst the smouldering school,
the bombed – out hospital,
the blood running into the sewers,
now clogged with emptiness.
Walking in Gaza,
amidst the savage fallout,
in – between the mangled homes,
the shuttered bazaars,
Hope lives.
Hope breathes.
Hope soars.
Walking in Gaza,
the resistance to tyranny holds firm,
as it has,
as it always will,
as it always must!
Amandla Intifada!
The struggles continue…
So, if you want to really know,
what a mother’s agonised scream sounds like,
take a walk in Gaza today,
she will bear her broken heart,
as she bore the coffin that held her 11 month old child’s body,
as it lay lifelessly broken and torn apart.
The mother screams in anger and in pain,
her howls and shrieks echo on the bloodied plain,
so take a walk in Gaza today,
and feel the rage that a mother nurses,
and bear the brunt of a mother’s curses.
You see, she laid her little baby in the cold, blood-soaked ground,
while you diplomats and peacemakers and politicians were buzzing around,
so stop buzzing,
and take a walk in Gaza today,
and for once,
for once,
listen to what a mother has to say,
“they’ve rained down death on us for years,
they’ve torched our olive groves while you have shut your collective ears,
they’ve killed our children over and over and over again,
and we’ve cried oceans of tears that have disappeared down the drain,
so tell me as I cradle my dead baby in my hand,
who gives a damn?”.
This is what you will hear when you walk in Gaza today.
It is what you have heard for years and years now,
and all I can think as I write these words is ‘how?’,
how could you fail,
you peacemakers and diplomats and politicians,
how could you fail the mothers of Gaza,
over and over and over again,
is it because Gaza’s mothers’ tears are forgotten,
because they simply disappear down the drain.
And how can you not stem that ocean of tears,
cried by countless mothers,
and fathers,
and children whose eyes are blinded by inexpressible pain,
and whose days are haunted, not by phantoms,
but by living fears.
So can you take a walk in Gaza today?
and what possibly could you have to say?
to the numberless mothers who have cried oceans of tears,
again and again and again,
or are Gaza’s mothers’ tears forgotten,
because they simply disappear down the drain.
(for the people of Gaza and the Occupied Territories)
Scribbled Verse 