Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Black Man I Love You

Enlarge poem

Black man, I love you. I do.
Hear me well:
My loving you will not come at the expense
of my wellness.
I will not be used to tally up numbers
be they tweets or votes in the upcoming elections
to drum up support for your liberation
so you are on even footing with the white man
only to have you oppress me under the guise of
tradition or culture of religion or
whatever other platform takes kindly to
black male dicktatorship.

You see, I love me. And it is from this
premise that you and I will engage
which requires for you to vibrate higher
so you can love me too
it is not enough to whistle when I walk by
it is not enough to laud the curvature of my body
it is not enough to want to make me the
mother of your unborn children
I’m talking about a conscious
plugged into your humanness kind of love
where your actions are ordered by love
and not an insatiable need to be right

Your sexism, your misogyny
these kill me as intensely as the racism
that denies your humanity and disempowers you
perhaps more so in an “Etu-Brute”esque fashion
as I still have to deal with that racism just like you
and then the sexism and misogyny from every
other kind of people
black man how do you think I fare?
I am at the front lines of a cold war
every single waking moment of my life

You are capable of love, you beautiful soul
and I will help you rise up into it
should you want to because I love you
but you had better know and overstand
that I will not be languishing beneath
your feet for this to happen
You need a partner but as long as
you are seeking subjects you will forver
be subject to unsavoury states of being
relegate yourself to human black man
and I will hold your hand through
the healing
so when you sire sons and daughters
I and I raise them in love
the kind that makes them fearless
knights them soldiers
ordains them warriors

Black man, I love you. Trust!
But until you learn to love you
I’ll love me hard, for the both of us.

Kela Griot

Featured Poem:

You Sound So Distant

Enlarge poem

You sound so distant…
You’re probably not but
The voices in my head are
Persistent
They insist that
You don’t like being here
Much, that you feighn
Pleasure when our skins touch…
That one day this house of cards is going to give into the whims of the most subtle breeze and fall to the nothing it was before and I’d flat line through life like I did before

Love, my love, was a story best told in between the folds of a Disney book
The perfect romance was a Hollywood rom-com of blue eyed, blonde haired tall and thin girls, no illusions there, I knew my day would never come
I’d grown accustomed to the cold.
The ice in my mind had long extended its sharp fangs to pierce my left ventricle, no amount of look like love glue could stop the bleeding…

Too many a time this lass has been disregarded, used and discarded. So many want in and when they see me they can’t wait to get out Because of this I’m guarded… So this being loved for real stuff is new to me… Believe me…

I prayed for you, meditated for you
Burned incense, toked blunts and the bliss that engulfed me, were visions of you. Through life’s BS visions of you sustained me. You heard my soul’s most primal call and beyond the cosy snuggles and kissy faces you’re here to transpose the darkness I hide with quick wit with the light your green chakrah emits. You’re here to love me.

So yes, I’m scared… not about you leaving or cheating…
I’m petrified
of you standing

amid my ruins

and

looking around,

slowly,

intently.

Even more terrified of you saying you’re staying. Here.
Making THIS your home
When I hate it here most times, it looks like the colosseum.
It was a battleground for demons and I. And I was the one always meeting my death.

But here you are… Finding beauty in spaces I find ugly,
It jarrs my mind, how you care for nothing but caring for me
Even when I make it hard. Especially when I make it hard.

Even when I’m fighting you I’m wanting you, when my actions say leave, my heart’s begging you to stay. When you get a little too close to my raw bits, I spew venom, it cuts like glass. The shards that tear into you, are pieces of a broken me that have been buried beneath my toungue
for all my life I was browbeaten so I would learn to hold my toungue.
When I lift my tongue to kiss you, you ventilate graveyards… these ghosts aren’t confined by wit or decorum, or keeping face, or etiquette, no, no, they glide through any fences and pretences put up, and, find you. I want to cut my tongue off. Even now, I’m afraid to speak. And here you are…

Listening to me….

Ramble…

Again.

And with bloody lips, fearlessly, you kiss me again.

You kiss me.

The voices in my head hush.
For love so true banishes death from my breath…
In this moment I’m drenched in your strength and sage knowing that love will battle for love.
I KNOW now that love isn’t something you’re told, it unfolds its self in the rubble of your soul

Hand in hand we walked through my soul today, found the ruins of a temple. The one demons had trampled, in unison lips parted and began to fashion prayers in tongues
Hossanahs hummed by contracting lungs to the beat of pounding drums of love muscles fist bumping one another through our chests knowing that in this shrine is where forever rests and to this the rhythm of life can attest.

Kela Griot

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (1)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (1)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (2)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

“Kela Griot is a creative, radio head, writer, poet and lover of humanity. She has been writing for more than 15 years but it wasn’t until four years ago that she was drawn out of her shell to set foot on a stage.

She has been on numerous platforms since: the Basadi Jam With A Purpose, Writers Lounge, Kagiso Arts Expo, Art by Night, The Bangkok Sundays, Snapshots, Restorative Justice Women’s Fair, Show Face, Poetic Joint and Fanatic Poetry Sessions to name a few. She has gone on to be one of the founding members of the New Age Poetry Movement, as well as co-founder and host of the Juiced Poetry Sessions.

She describes herself as deep empath and suspects that’s why she is a medium for poetry and other stuff. She hopes to help humanity art itself back to love, one poem and outlandish creative disruption at a time.”

Twitter: @KelaGriot

Kela Griot

Kela Griot
Kela Griot

Biography

“Kela Griot is a creative, radio head, writer, poet and lover of humanity. She has been writing for more than 15 years but it wasn’t until four years ago that she was drawn out of her shell to set foot on a stage.

She has been on numerous platforms since: the Basadi Jam With A Purpose, Writers Lounge, Kagiso Arts Expo, Art by Night, The Bangkok Sundays, Snapshots, Restorative Justice Women’s Fair, Show Face, Poetic Joint and Fanatic Poetry Sessions to name a few. She has gone on to be one of the founding members of the New Age Poetry Movement, as well as co-founder and host of the Juiced Poetry Sessions.

She describes herself as deep empath and suspects that’s why she is a medium for poetry and other stuff. She hopes to help humanity art itself back to love, one poem and outlandish creative disruption at a time.”

Twitter: @KelaGriot

Black Man I Love You

Enlarge poem

Black man, I love you. I do.
Hear me well:
My loving you will not come at the expense
of my wellness.
I will not be used to tally up numbers
be they tweets or votes in the upcoming elections
to drum up support for your liberation
so you are on even footing with the white man
only to have you oppress me under the guise of
tradition or culture of religion or
whatever other platform takes kindly to
black male dicktatorship.

You see, I love me. And it is from this
premise that you and I will engage
which requires for you to vibrate higher
so you can love me too
it is not enough to whistle when I walk by
it is not enough to laud the curvature of my body
it is not enough to want to make me the
mother of your unborn children
I’m talking about a conscious
plugged into your humanness kind of love
where your actions are ordered by love
and not an insatiable need to be right

Your sexism, your misogyny
these kill me as intensely as the racism
that denies your humanity and disempowers you
perhaps more so in an “Etu-Brute”esque fashion
as I still have to deal with that racism just like you
and then the sexism and misogyny from every
other kind of people
black man how do you think I fare?
I am at the front lines of a cold war
every single waking moment of my life

You are capable of love, you beautiful soul
and I will help you rise up into it
should you want to because I love you
but you had better know and overstand
that I will not be languishing beneath
your feet for this to happen
You need a partner but as long as
you are seeking subjects you will forver
be subject to unsavoury states of being
relegate yourself to human black man
and I will hold your hand through
the healing
so when you sire sons and daughters
I and I raise them in love
the kind that makes them fearless
knights them soldiers
ordains them warriors

Black man, I love you. Trust!
But until you learn to love you
I’ll love me hard, for the both of us.

Featured Poem:

You Sound So Distant

Enlarge poem

You sound so distant…
You’re probably not but
The voices in my head are
Persistent
They insist that
You don’t like being here
Much, that you feighn
Pleasure when our skins touch…
That one day this house of cards is going to give into the whims of the most subtle breeze and fall to the nothing it was before and I’d flat line through life like I did before

Love, my love, was a story best told in between the folds of a Disney book
The perfect romance was a Hollywood rom-com of blue eyed, blonde haired tall and thin girls, no illusions there, I knew my day would never come
I’d grown accustomed to the cold.
The ice in my mind had long extended its sharp fangs to pierce my left ventricle, no amount of look like love glue could stop the bleeding…

Too many a time this lass has been disregarded, used and discarded. So many want in and when they see me they can’t wait to get out Because of this I’m guarded… So this being loved for real stuff is new to me… Believe me…

I prayed for you, meditated for you
Burned incense, toked blunts and the bliss that engulfed me, were visions of you. Through life’s BS visions of you sustained me. You heard my soul’s most primal call and beyond the cosy snuggles and kissy faces you’re here to transpose the darkness I hide with quick wit with the light your green chakrah emits. You’re here to love me.

So yes, I’m scared… not about you leaving or cheating…
I’m petrified
of you standing

amid my ruins

and

looking around,

slowly,

intently.

Even more terrified of you saying you’re staying. Here.
Making THIS your home
When I hate it here most times, it looks like the colosseum.
It was a battleground for demons and I. And I was the one always meeting my death.

But here you are… Finding beauty in spaces I find ugly,
It jarrs my mind, how you care for nothing but caring for me
Even when I make it hard. Especially when I make it hard.

Even when I’m fighting you I’m wanting you, when my actions say leave, my heart’s begging you to stay. When you get a little too close to my raw bits, I spew venom, it cuts like glass. The shards that tear into you, are pieces of a broken me that have been buried beneath my toungue
for all my life I was browbeaten so I would learn to hold my toungue.
When I lift my tongue to kiss you, you ventilate graveyards… these ghosts aren’t confined by wit or decorum, or keeping face, or etiquette, no, no, they glide through any fences and pretences put up, and, find you. I want to cut my tongue off. Even now, I’m afraid to speak. And here you are…

Listening to me….

Ramble…

Again.

And with bloody lips, fearlessly, you kiss me again.

You kiss me.

The voices in my head hush.
For love so true banishes death from my breath…
In this moment I’m drenched in your strength and sage knowing that love will battle for love.
I KNOW now that love isn’t something you’re told, it unfolds its self in the rubble of your soul

Hand in hand we walked through my soul today, found the ruins of a temple. The one demons had trampled, in unison lips parted and began to fashion prayers in tongues
Hossanahs hummed by contracting lungs to the beat of pounding drums of love muscles fist bumping one another through our chests knowing that in this shrine is where forever rests and to this the rhythm of life can attest.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (1)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (1)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (2)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Black Man I Love You

Enlarge poem

Black man, I love you. I do.
Hear me well:
My loving you will not come at the expense
of my wellness.
I will not be used to tally up numbers
be they tweets or votes in the upcoming elections
to drum up support for your liberation
so you are on even footing with the white man
only to have you oppress me under the guise of
tradition or culture of religion or
whatever other platform takes kindly to
black male dicktatorship.

You see, I love me. And it is from this
premise that you and I will engage
which requires for you to vibrate higher
so you can love me too
it is not enough to whistle when I walk by
it is not enough to laud the curvature of my body
it is not enough to want to make me the
mother of your unborn children
I’m talking about a conscious
plugged into your humanness kind of love
where your actions are ordered by love
and not an insatiable need to be right

Your sexism, your misogyny
these kill me as intensely as the racism
that denies your humanity and disempowers you
perhaps more so in an “Etu-Brute”esque fashion
as I still have to deal with that racism just like you
and then the sexism and misogyny from every
other kind of people
black man how do you think I fare?
I am at the front lines of a cold war
every single waking moment of my life

You are capable of love, you beautiful soul
and I will help you rise up into it
should you want to because I love you
but you had better know and overstand
that I will not be languishing beneath
your feet for this to happen
You need a partner but as long as
you are seeking subjects you will forver
be subject to unsavoury states of being
relegate yourself to human black man
and I will hold your hand through
the healing
so when you sire sons and daughters
I and I raise them in love
the kind that makes them fearless
knights them soldiers
ordains them warriors

Black man, I love you. Trust!
But until you learn to love you
I’ll love me hard, for the both of us.

Comments

Your email address will not be published.