He Lives (man in child)

The wind blows thru the highs and lows of life
he smokes, gets high and chokes
from the green-smoke
made from burning souls
that we have cloned
when lives are wasted
he watches the light created
by the might of his mind
dimmed by the harshness of a mad life
they couldn’t recognize
what pride his deprived children are
to the mother earth
since birth
they fought against the curse
which the devil had cast upon them
circumstances beyond the wisest man’s comprehension
seeking passion without complications
un-emotional black-males
still trapped jails of static changes
better days seem far away
as he waits to find ways to escape
from mental cages
where hatred invaded
holy spaces of greatness
leaving him empty-handed
as his wealth slipped
thru blood-stained hands
of human-like monsters
who resembled god’s wisdom
in a hell’s kingdom
he knocks down on walls
of ancient cities like Jericho

since Babylon is where his soul was born
he knows life never stops
making promises
of diamond and gold
which they stole
and hoped to sell back to him
he watches them failing
to play tricks on him
as he continues to live

he lives to see trees of peace
grow from jungles built on concrete
he lives to see the freedom
of souls knocking on heaven’s door
he lives to see kids grow
to lead nations towards the ultimate emancipation
he lives to regain his pride
in many ways of self mutilation
he lives . . .

Extract from CRUCIFIED

i heard strange voices say
solitary confinement creates
enough space for i and i to meditate
born and raised in the dungeons
the lokshins surrounded
loneliness surrounded me in darkness
my only true friend

moments of sadness i have seen
giving birth to a bright light of hope
little child cursed by his own mid-wives
thrown into rivers and seas of blood
swam with crocodiles and sharks
escaped onto wicked lands
infested with poisonous snakes
friends betraying comrades and warriors
who aimed to lead us
to a home called freedom

crucified i was
but always came back to rise
beyond the stars and skies
before i lived i had to survive
hurtful entrapments of this womb
oh! my forgotten thorny past
my name was truth
a child yet to be born
but already crucified

yes i have lived too many lives
died too many deaths
in rwanda, hiroshima, ethiopia
soweto, vietnam, indonesia
mexico, congo, somalia
angola, boipatong, uganda
sharpville,tanzania, seattle and genoa
even the oppressor’s lies
and tear gas smoke
failed to keep me choked
in fierce (fear’s) oppression
where violence gave me hope
for solace and redemption
watching sad smiles rested
on a bloodline of an axe
dripping deaths of generations
born into the bloodline of hope
left to drip dry
on the surface of the cruel cruel earth
i survived the death
of my soulful dreams
my name became peace
a child yet to be born
but already crucified

i rose, and came back multiplied
to throw stones
before and after i wrote books
whose contents got stolen
stories about the wisdom of my being
stories about how they raped
my rich mother
stole her children and wealth
forced her to conceive
beasts possessed by greed

they called me a savage
so i was made a slave
millions of hard lashes
left my broken back open
dripping gallons of blood
licked by these hungering scavengers
who conspired with vultures and vampires
sucking every drop
out of my starving veins
just to gain their superficial wealth
spreading my blood like a red carpet
for the rich to walk on it
using it to build great monuments and slave ships
makin guns and whips
building prisons and shackles
shackles that bind
my mind wrists and ankles
to their greed and wickedness
living in the womb of my troubled presence
my name changed
it became justice
a child yet to be crucified

they failed to keep me buried
in a shallow grave of grief and hatred
where I lived many lives
and survived countless deaths
to rise beyond the darkest skies
but still they had me crucified
like Christ, like Spartacus and Socrates
but I came back once again
and rose to throw stones
after and before I wrote books
stories about how children of my stolen lands
are being turned into cannibals
caged up in concentration camps
and filthy drains called prisons

I came back to sing along
With a sad song of freedom
A song whose melody is blocked
By sounds of mad bombs
in Botswana and Zimbabwe
In Gaza, Nagasaki and Lebanon
A song that rhymed
with names like Fanon
Guevara, Sobukwe, Nkruma
Trotsky, Biko, Mumia and Lumumba
Shabazz, Garvey and Lenin
Tsietsi Mashinini, Dennis Brutus
Stompie and Hector Peterson

Like all of them
I got crucified
Killed
Died to live beyond my time
In the womb of my uncertain future
My name became people’s liberator
Some called mad trouble maker

A child yet to be born
But already crucified

Website developed by Lynn Danzig