I write from hell
as heaven’s proxy
mothers shall push babies
no more
let them walk out on their own
and when the umbilical cord is cut
strangle them with it
If they do not die
or do not cry
when you hit their butt
they have become adults
now, tell them about sex
no, just fuck them
be their mirror as they shave-
off innocence
do not speak
to your child
but buy them toys
or let them play
with their spittle
mothers shall have milk, no more
and fathers will be busy feeding
theirs to other women
hang a picture of love
on your fridge till it freezes
children will learn to dance to their cry
as they skip around and pee
like baby goats do
merge discrete metals to smithereens,
blacksmith who ain’t black
and don’t smith
Black Africa
a golden ring with a diamond/
a diamond ring with a golden rim?
I am Black
not because I am African
Black is what I feel
an explicit soul speaking lingo
a never melting candle lighting deeper character
Africa is my home
An aesthetic sanctuary
a giant fortress of rolling cultures
where are the black souls blackheads black deeds
black countries that made Africa?
Where are the black voices black art
black masses that move the world?
Children gather in black magic global village
to listen to songs of the black beast
blacks tales too tall to be written
on black boards in black ink in black english
I am a black sheep in a blackout globe
a black mark that keeps my black look black eye untie,
I had/have a black pot of black berries
Uncle Tom and Stepin Fetchit sold for free
on black market day
Kokrokooo!
I am not a crow
I enter black mood morning
in a big black hooded cloak carrying
a blacklist of black pride, black love
blackstrap black stamp black top black waters
home people, gone people, all people
welcome to black people
Smitten black,
a black hearted African
a black nippled pelican
blackity black-tie black
blacken blackish blackfish
blacked blackest blackbird
Mama Africa
a black hole feeding black hills with
black panthers black monkeys black guards
Ena Africa
you went beyond black shirts
black bile black widow and black friars
undo black death
in my home
catch the black ball
keep the black thorn
swim the black sea
find the black belt
erect the black economy
Stop oh Black Maria!
hit me with the black jack
put me in the black box
kiss my black leg
fight me for my black spot
black-currant growers
black pudding eating liberators
black ice breakers
find air in black pool
then
paint me black
absolute black
invincible black
ubiquitous black
black black
Black Power Black
All work on this website is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.5 South Africa License.
Ghana based Nana Nyarko Boateng feels gratifyingly functional when she writes. Essentially, she doesn’t know any other way to live. The greatest influence on her poetry and writing career is her heartbeat. She admires and feels indebted to many more poets than five but if she has to name five; Kamaria Muntu, Jacqui Johnson, Kofi Anyidoho, Alice Walker and Audre Lorde.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Ghana based Nana Nyarko Boateng feels gratifyingly functional when she writes. Essentially, she doesn’t know any other way to live. The greatest influence on her poetry and writing career is her heartbeat. She admires and feels indebted to many more poets than five but if she has to name five; Kamaria Muntu, Jacqui Johnson, Kofi Anyidoho, Alice Walker and Audre Lorde.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download
I write from hell
as heaven’s proxy
mothers shall push babies
no more
let them walk out on their own
and when the umbilical cord is cut
strangle them with it
If they do not die
or do not cry
when you hit their butt
they have become adults
now, tell them about sex
no, just fuck them
be their mirror as they shave-
off innocence
do not speak
to your child
but buy them toys
or let them play
with their spittle
mothers shall have milk, no more
and fathers will be busy feeding
theirs to other women
hang a picture of love
on your fridge till it freezes
children will learn to dance to their cry
as they skip around and pee
like baby goats do
merge discrete metals to smithereens,
blacksmith who ain’t black
and don’t smith
Black Africa
a golden ring with a diamond/
a diamond ring with a golden rim?
I am Black
not because I am African
Black is what I feel
an explicit soul speaking lingo
a never melting candle lighting deeper character
Africa is my home
An aesthetic sanctuary
a giant fortress of rolling cultures
where are the black souls blackheads black deeds
black countries that made Africa?
Where are the black voices black art
black masses that move the world?
Children gather in black magic global village
to listen to songs of the black beast
blacks tales too tall to be written
on black boards in black ink in black english
I am a black sheep in a blackout globe
a black mark that keeps my black look black eye untie,
I had/have a black pot of black berries
Uncle Tom and Stepin Fetchit sold for free
on black market day
Kokrokooo!
I am not a crow
I enter black mood morning
in a big black hooded cloak carrying
a blacklist of black pride, black love
blackstrap black stamp black top black waters
home people, gone people, all people
welcome to black people
Smitten black,
a black hearted African
a black nippled pelican
blackity black-tie black
blacken blackish blackfish
blacked blackest blackbird
Mama Africa
a black hole feeding black hills with
black panthers black monkeys black guards
Ena Africa
you went beyond black shirts
black bile black widow and black friars
undo black death
in my home
catch the black ball
keep the black thorn
swim the black sea
find the black belt
erect the black economy
Stop oh Black Maria!
hit me with the black jack
put me in the black box
kiss my black leg
fight me for my black spot
black-currant growers
black pudding eating liberators
black ice breakers
find air in black pool
then
paint me black
absolute black
invincible black
ubiquitous black
black black
Black Power Black
I write from hell
as heaven’s proxy
mothers shall push babies
no more
let them walk out on their own
and when the umbilical cord is cut
strangle them with it
If they do not die
or do not cry
when you hit their butt
they have become adults
now, tell them about sex
no, just fuck them
be their mirror as they shave-
off innocence
do not speak
to your child
but buy them toys
or let them play
with their spittle
mothers shall have milk, no more
and fathers will be busy feeding
theirs to other women
hang a picture of love
on your fridge till it freezes
children will learn to dance to their cry
as they skip around and pee
like baby goats do
Powerful Black