Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Aftermath

Enlarge poem

1.Here’s a story of our humanity
Our story,whatever else you heard was a rumour
After the destruction of Flora and Fauna
We live trapped within the revolution of the sun and the moon
With our streets being deserted,nasty and open
Our family portraits lie desolate,dusty and broken
I liken humanity to a shipwreck
That we attempt to save with our barren efforts
Only to settle down and console ourselves by maintaining the internal rot;
The paradoxical hacking of the existing passage between God and Man
by scientific means,
Where we end up worshipping the work of our own hands
With ideologies that divide
And the destiny of our after-life is often downplayed in the process
I,I shake hands with truth before the last nail is driven into it’s palm
By the servants of darkness
It’s evident that our society is married to ignorance
And we now live in honey-moon fantasies.

2.I call truth the light
I would rather have it in place of my freedom
Even at a fair price I wouldn’t sell what is part of me
Which makes this sound like that creed of the servant who became the master
No offence but we were free souls that are now obsessed to chain-bounds
Why learn if the knowledge you obtain is not helpful?
Again the art of gossip does not concern me
See,I try to keep in touch with my soul
The only possible means I can escape the traps of their wickedness
This Hip Hop art-form I flaunt is God-given
It’s a weapon I use to block the progress of the dark forces
As opposed to those whose voices hail vanity,
I am the sublime teacher
A prophet on higher calling
Since way back before they noticed the talent in me
I knew of my rapport with infinity.

3.But today is just another day,another race,another struggle
Education is the key they say
But to some it failed to unlock the doors to the safe-house of destiny
Due to that I see toddlers,high on combler’s glue
Their heads swell with rage,ready to attack and rob
Lust for ambition is the highest calibration in the measuring of great minds they teach
As they close up temples of consciousness and open up brothels of self-hate
And we dare find the solutions to our problems?
Since the fall of the economic blocks
We export wealth and import poverty
As those in power eat to their fill and use energy reserves to fund war
They slaughter our dreams,kill and cripple our kids
I walk on a land that holds deafening cries of the tortured innocents
And follow pathways shaped by trails of blood and the feet of refugees on the run
AFRICA unite,
What will it take us to notice that we are all Sons and Daughters of eternity
I pray that we forget war and turn weapons into artefacts.

Samo

Featured Poem:

33

Enlarge poem

The theme song of the Sopranos-Got yourself a gun,
defines my state of mind-freeze frame-
I’m speaking Nasir Jones -All I need is one mic frame of mind-
that means I flip to verse 2 line 3-Jesus died at the age of33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
do I wanna die at 33?
See 33 to you may just be a number
but to me -it’s symbolic of both the historic and the futuristic
see, my Muslim brothers believe that when you die and you go to Heaven,
you exist eternally at the age of 33
my christian brothers believe that 33 stands for truth,
that good will always conquer evil
but I’m a little devil, i only speak with a pessimistic point of view
but yet find me at a pew,
with a new set of knee pads praying hard to the Virgin Mary also called
the Virgin of the 33
or better yet, give me a pen and paper and I’ll calculate from Dan
Brown’s Da Vinci code the fibonacci set of numbers 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33

do I really want to be Jesus?
Let’s see-Jesus, born to a Virgin and a carpenter-died at 33, fullstop.
Not quite?
Handel’s Messiah defined him thus-he was despised, despised and
rejected
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief
he gave his back to the smiters and his cheeks to them that plucked off
the hair
and he hid not his face from the shame and spitting of the Pharisees
going frantic and hysteric-waving their crucifix, you’d think it was
Eminem in Renegade
then a dove came down as he bathed in Holy water
at that moment he became the rock of Gilbraltar
taking walks on water, and changing wine from water
an outgoing fellow he had a 40 day date with the devil
temptation was a loaf of bread-I wonder what was for dessert
then open the x files for the paranormal and find Lazarus brought back
to life
and yet-all his life
-he never spoke English, he only spoke parables
fed 5000 people everytime his tummy rumbled
had 12 disciples addicted to his every word-they should go into rehab
or better yet-throw in some erotica and call that flick-9 n a half
weeks
then some idiot named Iscariot goes Judas or if a gal, Judith
and kissed him on the cheek what happened next-Mel Gibson made some
cash
-call it The Passion of the Christ
but before he died-he cried saying Eli Eli Rama Sabachtani
My God My God-why did you forsake me?

I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33

but lose the religion
-I believe in the idea
the idea that being Jesus means walking with Mahatma Gandhi-speaking
the philosophy of satygraha
-truth and fairness-
believing in educating myself like Booker T Washington
and understanding
understanding-that the difference between the Black and the white
Church is that our forefathers were cross bearers
and that if I keep my butt on the bus for the right cause-I could
change life’s course like Rosa Parks and be free
free to speak the breath of Corazon Aquino with the vocal gait of
Pavarotti
free to be at Bloody Sunday and leave there bloody
free to march to the Lincoln memorial with the man who dreamt up a
revolution
yes Tracy Chapman-talking about a revolution sounds like a whisper
but I’ll whisper to them the revolutionary words of Dedan Kimathi
-I’d rather be dead, than alive on my knees
I guess I’ll be dead at 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I AM 33?

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Biography

Samo is a poet based in Nairobi Kenya. He frequents the Slam Africa competition held in Nairobi. He is publicly known as “rabid dog in a suit” because he is one who is not big on photos and bios.

Samo

Biography

Samo is a poet based in Nairobi Kenya. He frequents the Slam Africa competition held in Nairobi. He is publicly known as “rabid dog in a suit” because he is one who is not big on photos and bios.

Aftermath

Enlarge poem

1.Here’s a story of our humanity
Our story,whatever else you heard was a rumour
After the destruction of Flora and Fauna
We live trapped within the revolution of the sun and the moon
With our streets being deserted,nasty and open
Our family portraits lie desolate,dusty and broken
I liken humanity to a shipwreck
That we attempt to save with our barren efforts
Only to settle down and console ourselves by maintaining the internal rot;
The paradoxical hacking of the existing passage between God and Man
by scientific means,
Where we end up worshipping the work of our own hands
With ideologies that divide
And the destiny of our after-life is often downplayed in the process
I,I shake hands with truth before the last nail is driven into it’s palm
By the servants of darkness
It’s evident that our society is married to ignorance
And we now live in honey-moon fantasies.

2.I call truth the light
I would rather have it in place of my freedom
Even at a fair price I wouldn’t sell what is part of me
Which makes this sound like that creed of the servant who became the master
No offence but we were free souls that are now obsessed to chain-bounds
Why learn if the knowledge you obtain is not helpful?
Again the art of gossip does not concern me
See,I try to keep in touch with my soul
The only possible means I can escape the traps of their wickedness
This Hip Hop art-form I flaunt is God-given
It’s a weapon I use to block the progress of the dark forces
As opposed to those whose voices hail vanity,
I am the sublime teacher
A prophet on higher calling
Since way back before they noticed the talent in me
I knew of my rapport with infinity.

3.But today is just another day,another race,another struggle
Education is the key they say
But to some it failed to unlock the doors to the safe-house of destiny
Due to that I see toddlers,high on combler’s glue
Their heads swell with rage,ready to attack and rob
Lust for ambition is the highest calibration in the measuring of great minds they teach
As they close up temples of consciousness and open up brothels of self-hate
And we dare find the solutions to our problems?
Since the fall of the economic blocks
We export wealth and import poverty
As those in power eat to their fill and use energy reserves to fund war
They slaughter our dreams,kill and cripple our kids
I walk on a land that holds deafening cries of the tortured innocents
And follow pathways shaped by trails of blood and the feet of refugees on the run
AFRICA unite,
What will it take us to notice that we are all Sons and Daughters of eternity
I pray that we forget war and turn weapons into artefacts.

Featured Poem:

33

Enlarge poem

The theme song of the Sopranos-Got yourself a gun,
defines my state of mind-freeze frame-
I’m speaking Nasir Jones -All I need is one mic frame of mind-
that means I flip to verse 2 line 3-Jesus died at the age of33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
do I wanna die at 33?
See 33 to you may just be a number
but to me -it’s symbolic of both the historic and the futuristic
see, my Muslim brothers believe that when you die and you go to Heaven,
you exist eternally at the age of 33
my christian brothers believe that 33 stands for truth,
that good will always conquer evil
but I’m a little devil, i only speak with a pessimistic point of view
but yet find me at a pew,
with a new set of knee pads praying hard to the Virgin Mary also called
the Virgin of the 33
or better yet, give me a pen and paper and I’ll calculate from Dan
Brown’s Da Vinci code the fibonacci set of numbers 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33

do I really want to be Jesus?
Let’s see-Jesus, born to a Virgin and a carpenter-died at 33, fullstop.
Not quite?
Handel’s Messiah defined him thus-he was despised, despised and
rejected
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief
he gave his back to the smiters and his cheeks to them that plucked off
the hair
and he hid not his face from the shame and spitting of the Pharisees
going frantic and hysteric-waving their crucifix, you’d think it was
Eminem in Renegade
then a dove came down as he bathed in Holy water
at that moment he became the rock of Gilbraltar
taking walks on water, and changing wine from water
an outgoing fellow he had a 40 day date with the devil
temptation was a loaf of bread-I wonder what was for dessert
then open the x files for the paranormal and find Lazarus brought back
to life
and yet-all his life
-he never spoke English, he only spoke parables
fed 5000 people everytime his tummy rumbled
had 12 disciples addicted to his every word-they should go into rehab
or better yet-throw in some erotica and call that flick-9 n a half
weeks
then some idiot named Iscariot goes Judas or if a gal, Judith
and kissed him on the cheek what happened next-Mel Gibson made some
cash
-call it The Passion of the Christ
but before he died-he cried saying Eli Eli Rama Sabachtani
My God My God-why did you forsake me?

I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33

but lose the religion
-I believe in the idea
the idea that being Jesus means walking with Mahatma Gandhi-speaking
the philosophy of satygraha
-truth and fairness-
believing in educating myself like Booker T Washington
and understanding
understanding-that the difference between the Black and the white
Church is that our forefathers were cross bearers
and that if I keep my butt on the bus for the right cause-I could
change life’s course like Rosa Parks and be free
free to speak the breath of Corazon Aquino with the vocal gait of
Pavarotti
free to be at Bloody Sunday and leave there bloody
free to march to the Lincoln memorial with the man who dreamt up a
revolution
yes Tracy Chapman-talking about a revolution sounds like a whisper
but I’ll whisper to them the revolutionary words of Dedan Kimathi
-I’d rather be dead, than alive on my knees
I guess I’ll be dead at 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I said, Jesus died at the age of 33
I AM 33?

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

Aftermath

Enlarge poem

1.Here’s a story of our humanity
Our story,whatever else you heard was a rumour
After the destruction of Flora and Fauna
We live trapped within the revolution of the sun and the moon
With our streets being deserted,nasty and open
Our family portraits lie desolate,dusty and broken
I liken humanity to a shipwreck
That we attempt to save with our barren efforts
Only to settle down and console ourselves by maintaining the internal rot;
The paradoxical hacking of the existing passage between God and Man
by scientific means,
Where we end up worshipping the work of our own hands
With ideologies that divide
And the destiny of our after-life is often downplayed in the process
I,I shake hands with truth before the last nail is driven into it’s palm
By the servants of darkness
It’s evident that our society is married to ignorance
And we now live in honey-moon fantasies.

2.I call truth the light
I would rather have it in place of my freedom
Even at a fair price I wouldn’t sell what is part of me
Which makes this sound like that creed of the servant who became the master
No offence but we were free souls that are now obsessed to chain-bounds
Why learn if the knowledge you obtain is not helpful?
Again the art of gossip does not concern me
See,I try to keep in touch with my soul
The only possible means I can escape the traps of their wickedness
This Hip Hop art-form I flaunt is God-given
It’s a weapon I use to block the progress of the dark forces
As opposed to those whose voices hail vanity,
I am the sublime teacher
A prophet on higher calling
Since way back before they noticed the talent in me
I knew of my rapport with infinity.

3.But today is just another day,another race,another struggle
Education is the key they say
But to some it failed to unlock the doors to the safe-house of destiny
Due to that I see toddlers,high on combler’s glue
Their heads swell with rage,ready to attack and rob
Lust for ambition is the highest calibration in the measuring of great minds they teach
As they close up temples of consciousness and open up brothels of self-hate
And we dare find the solutions to our problems?
Since the fall of the economic blocks
We export wealth and import poverty
As those in power eat to their fill and use energy reserves to fund war
They slaughter our dreams,kill and cripple our kids
I walk on a land that holds deafening cries of the tortured innocents
And follow pathways shaped by trails of blood and the feet of refugees on the run
AFRICA unite,
What will it take us to notice that we are all Sons and Daughters of eternity
I pray that we forget war and turn weapons into artefacts.

Comments

Your email address will not be published.