Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

black rock

Enlarge poem

rumour has it
that the roots of rock as we know it,
score whispers of truth,
leave human records unspun,
in the form of, ambition-propelled,
note-streams.
rumour has it
that we, compositions of clay
who speak sand storms
in the dilect of rock
carry scoresheet of origin
as patterns of skin tone.
can u dig?
yeah, i can dig
for we have dug rock
and
played its tragedy on world stages
around necks of legends
between rock-breaks, base kicks and hi-hats,
we have given life and limb
improvised the art of digging rock
yet stand with a fistful of sound
as descendents of soil.
can you rock?
yeah, i can rock
for we have danced bullets
and rocked oppression out of fashion
tatooed rock on the tongue of memory
and now the world sings our name.
and who are we?
we are the under-miners
and under mines
we are undermined
migrant roadies who beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
and let the beat rock
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock
and thru unplugged volumes of rock
ruff jewels bare the rock crushed backs
in pursuite of their destiny to shine
while mine,
is a legacy of blood
a chorus beneath the earth
instruments of greed
we compose the riches of rock
yet sing hunger to the night
my royalty is life
unspoken it hurts
buried in a verse
the irony of word
truth spoken, unheard
on how we still fish the earth
and while you rhyme about platinum and gold
music is the canvas and we paint secrets untold
when the album is done
and black label satisfies a black labour thirst
we play a new rhythm
back stage, while you toast statues of our labour
we play a new rhythm
we beat rock and
let the beat rock
we beat rock and
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock

Afurakan

Featured Poem:

Inner sense

Enlarge poem

labeled “daddy’s little joy” for she born on the seven scales carried the stars in her smile
moved with planets in her stride
and seasons would alternate between her eye blinks yet she carried heaven as her pride
but it must have been a bad season
coz she doesn’t smile now
but now she wears fear as a cushion just in case she bumps into those memories still haunting her sleep
rests with an eye open, keeping screams as her guard and a rope attached to reality to pull her self out just in case she sleeps too deep
hips sway to a careless rhythm for music no longer inspires her
and love is an empty burden only carried only by fools who believe in fairy tales
and i remember she used to believe in fairy tales
she used to believe in black magic and that witches were the lucky few who had escaped the clutches of life
she used to believe in reincarnation after speaking to the man on the moon
she believed in a higher being and that salvation was coming soon
dreams were her play ground and the world her colouring book
she played stones with the gods hugging freedom as her blanket
she cried only to create endless fountains of youth
carried wings on her shoulder blades for she usually flies with time
and pain was only a strange perception in the corners of her mind
and i remember but does she want to remember?
does she want to remember?
those endless moments when hell was left to walk the earth
and had she had a choice she would have easily chosen a grave over birth
that cursed day when the sun did not wake up and the night booked a room in her heart
when flames of hatred and fear painted her pupils red replacing the stars that usually glow in her eyes
but she doesn’t smile now
but now she has a score to settle with life
she had a deal with fate but certain things just did not go right
at birth she was promised that the sun would always shine
but never told that the same sun would scorch her back and lengthen the days of her miseries
never told that the sun would set and darkness too would also become part of her reality
she was told, her life would have endless possibilities and that she must make the best of it
but never told that in reality this rabbit hole was in fact a bottomless pit
and that the same arms that love and heal could chain her future to residues of a night over spent
these very finger tips that polish her back with passion filled strokes could leave traces of confusion where wisdom once blossomed giving moods and colour to seasons
can u blame her? coz she doesn’t smile now
and i can still hear her screams
her tears still wet my pillow that’s why at times i drown in my dreams
so i scribble down her pain only to help (me) find the path
and this is for every woman and child who’s suffered the wrath of my brother’s hands
whose wishing well has run dry, who now looks up to a blue and purple sky
this is for every woman who has lost her smile
and this is for every child who has lost her innocence
this is for my brother who has lost his inner sense now

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (12)
  • Pride (8)
  • Optimism (1)
  • Anger (5)
  • Delight (2)
  • Inspiration (10)
  • Reflection (4)
  • Captivation (6)
  • Peace (3)
  • Amusement (2)
  • Sorrow (5)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (4)
  • Sadness (10)
  • Fear (8)
  • Jubilation (4)

Comments

  1. Really great! I had to translate the poem in Italian and put it on my blog !

    Alessandro Pancirolli

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Afurakan, is the crown prince of Johannesburg’s underground slam poetry.
He is best known for his stage improvisations on hip-hop tunes. His style has caught the attention of many slam poets and and writers across Africa with its rhythm and provocative nature.
This is a poet who can cipher with god – and while celebrating the fact that “Blaq people rock” also writes for the miners who beat rock all their lives, for everything that is “less”.
His activity within Jozi’s poetry movement can be traced back to the “So where to” poetry events, and his work with the poetry collective Soul 2 Mouth, among others.

Afurakan has played a vital role in the growth of the spoken word movement in Johannesburg and indeed South Africa; and he’s a regular at schools and community centres, performing for the purpose of spreading the word.

http://muse.book.co.za/blog/2009/10/15/booked-muse-afurakan/

Afurakan is a founding member of THEMISSINGAP, a three piece rhythm and poetry outfit alongside beat box legend _BlastTheHumanBeat and DJ Duce.
TheMissingGap currently host and promote the popular WORD N SOUND BASSLINE SERIES a monthly open mic and talent showcase platform.

Afurakan

Biography

Afurakan, is the crown prince of Johannesburg’s underground slam poetry.
He is best known for his stage improvisations on hip-hop tunes. His style has caught the attention of many slam poets and and writers across Africa with its rhythm and provocative nature.
This is a poet who can cipher with god – and while celebrating the fact that “Blaq people rock” also writes for the miners who beat rock all their lives, for everything that is “less”.
His activity within Jozi’s poetry movement can be traced back to the “So where to” poetry events, and his work with the poetry collective Soul 2 Mouth, among others.

Afurakan has played a vital role in the growth of the spoken word movement in Johannesburg and indeed South Africa; and he’s a regular at schools and community centres, performing for the purpose of spreading the word.

http://muse.book.co.za/blog/2009/10/15/booked-muse-afurakan/

Afurakan is a founding member of THEMISSINGAP, a three piece rhythm and poetry outfit alongside beat box legend _BlastTheHumanBeat and DJ Duce.
TheMissingGap currently host and promote the popular WORD N SOUND BASSLINE SERIES a monthly open mic and talent showcase platform.

black rock

Enlarge poem

rumour has it
that the roots of rock as we know it,
score whispers of truth,
leave human records unspun,
in the form of, ambition-propelled,
note-streams.
rumour has it
that we, compositions of clay
who speak sand storms
in the dilect of rock
carry scoresheet of origin
as patterns of skin tone.
can u dig?
yeah, i can dig
for we have dug rock
and
played its tragedy on world stages
around necks of legends
between rock-breaks, base kicks and hi-hats,
we have given life and limb
improvised the art of digging rock
yet stand with a fistful of sound
as descendents of soil.
can you rock?
yeah, i can rock
for we have danced bullets
and rocked oppression out of fashion
tatooed rock on the tongue of memory
and now the world sings our name.
and who are we?
we are the under-miners
and under mines
we are undermined
migrant roadies who beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
and let the beat rock
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock
and thru unplugged volumes of rock
ruff jewels bare the rock crushed backs
in pursuite of their destiny to shine
while mine,
is a legacy of blood
a chorus beneath the earth
instruments of greed
we compose the riches of rock
yet sing hunger to the night
my royalty is life
unspoken it hurts
buried in a verse
the irony of word
truth spoken, unheard
on how we still fish the earth
and while you rhyme about platinum and gold
music is the canvas and we paint secrets untold
when the album is done
and black label satisfies a black labour thirst
we play a new rhythm
back stage, while you toast statues of our labour
we play a new rhythm
we beat rock and
let the beat rock
we beat rock and
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock

Featured Poem:

Inner sense

Enlarge poem

labeled “daddy’s little joy” for she born on the seven scales carried the stars in her smile
moved with planets in her stride
and seasons would alternate between her eye blinks yet she carried heaven as her pride
but it must have been a bad season
coz she doesn’t smile now
but now she wears fear as a cushion just in case she bumps into those memories still haunting her sleep
rests with an eye open, keeping screams as her guard and a rope attached to reality to pull her self out just in case she sleeps too deep
hips sway to a careless rhythm for music no longer inspires her
and love is an empty burden only carried only by fools who believe in fairy tales
and i remember she used to believe in fairy tales
she used to believe in black magic and that witches were the lucky few who had escaped the clutches of life
she used to believe in reincarnation after speaking to the man on the moon
she believed in a higher being and that salvation was coming soon
dreams were her play ground and the world her colouring book
she played stones with the gods hugging freedom as her blanket
she cried only to create endless fountains of youth
carried wings on her shoulder blades for she usually flies with time
and pain was only a strange perception in the corners of her mind
and i remember but does she want to remember?
does she want to remember?
those endless moments when hell was left to walk the earth
and had she had a choice she would have easily chosen a grave over birth
that cursed day when the sun did not wake up and the night booked a room in her heart
when flames of hatred and fear painted her pupils red replacing the stars that usually glow in her eyes
but she doesn’t smile now
but now she has a score to settle with life
she had a deal with fate but certain things just did not go right
at birth she was promised that the sun would always shine
but never told that the same sun would scorch her back and lengthen the days of her miseries
never told that the sun would set and darkness too would also become part of her reality
she was told, her life would have endless possibilities and that she must make the best of it
but never told that in reality this rabbit hole was in fact a bottomless pit
and that the same arms that love and heal could chain her future to residues of a night over spent
these very finger tips that polish her back with passion filled strokes could leave traces of confusion where wisdom once blossomed giving moods and colour to seasons
can u blame her? coz she doesn’t smile now
and i can still hear her screams
her tears still wet my pillow that’s why at times i drown in my dreams
so i scribble down her pain only to help (me) find the path
and this is for every woman and child who’s suffered the wrath of my brother’s hands
whose wishing well has run dry, who now looks up to a blue and purple sky
this is for every woman who has lost her smile
and this is for every child who has lost her innocence
this is for my brother who has lost his inner sense now

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (12)
  • Pride (8)
  • Optimism (1)
  • Anger (5)
  • Delight (2)
  • Inspiration (10)
  • Reflection (4)
  • Captivation (6)
  • Peace (3)
  • Amusement (2)
  • Sorrow (5)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (4)
  • Sadness (10)
  • Fear (8)
  • Jubilation (4)

black rock

Enlarge poem

rumour has it
that the roots of rock as we know it,
score whispers of truth,
leave human records unspun,
in the form of, ambition-propelled,
note-streams.
rumour has it
that we, compositions of clay
who speak sand storms
in the dilect of rock
carry scoresheet of origin
as patterns of skin tone.
can u dig?
yeah, i can dig
for we have dug rock
and
played its tragedy on world stages
around necks of legends
between rock-breaks, base kicks and hi-hats,
we have given life and limb
improvised the art of digging rock
yet stand with a fistful of sound
as descendents of soil.
can you rock?
yeah, i can rock
for we have danced bullets
and rocked oppression out of fashion
tatooed rock on the tongue of memory
and now the world sings our name.
and who are we?
we are the under-miners
and under mines
we are undermined
migrant roadies who beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
we beat rock
and let the beat rock
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock
and thru unplugged volumes of rock
ruff jewels bare the rock crushed backs
in pursuite of their destiny to shine
while mine,
is a legacy of blood
a chorus beneath the earth
instruments of greed
we compose the riches of rock
yet sing hunger to the night
my royalty is life
unspoken it hurts
buried in a verse
the irony of word
truth spoken, unheard
on how we still fish the earth
and while you rhyme about platinum and gold
music is the canvas and we paint secrets untold
when the album is done
and black label satisfies a black labour thirst
we play a new rhythm
back stage, while you toast statues of our labour
we play a new rhythm
we beat rock and
let the beat rock
we beat rock and
with a gumboot beat-box
we let the beat rock

Comments

  1. Really great! I had to translate the poem in Italian and put it on my blog !

    Alessandro Pancirolli

Your email address will not be published.