Anthem of the Black Poet - Mbizo Chirasha

the succulent breast of mother africa oozes with the milk of black renaissance
the rich womb of africa germinates seeds of black consciousness
the black blood bubbles with identity of africanness
the sweat of my brows flows with the revolutions from slavery to independence

i am the black poet
i am the black poet
black valleys bloom with flowers of nehandaness
african horizons shine with the rays of nkurumahness
black streets coloured with rainbows of mandelaness
black soil creamed with the wisdom of mugabeness
black spears sharpened with the conscience of bikoness

i am the black poet
i sing of black culture bleaching in oceans of coca cola
i sing of black culture fried in cauldrons of floridization
i sing of black culture gambled in the dark streets of sunset hills
i sing of black culture burning in computer ages

i am the black poet
i sing of kings and their people
i sing of black kings and their people
i sing of the dead souls of black history
i sing of the rising spirits of black renaissance
i sing of the rising souls of black consciousness
i sing for the rising spirits of pan-africanness

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

i am the affidavit of black empowerment that requires your stamp
i am the title deed of black emancipation that needs your signature
i am the memorandum of black reparations that needs your fingerprint
i am the certificate of black repatriation that needs your identity card

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out acids of mental suppression
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out cyanides of racial discrimination
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping nitrates of economic dispossession

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

my gun is the rose of our freedom
my bullet is the nectar of our reconciliation
my bomb is the petal of our democracy
my gun is our 1980 celebrations
my bullet is our 1987 political revision

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

is abortion a solution to overpopulation
is demolition a solution to pollution
is corruption a shortcut to poverty reduction
is balkanization a shortcut to colonization
is condomization a shotcut to hiv mitigation

HIV/AIDS has become a business
an import and export product like coca cola in america and nokia in berlin

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the the river bed flowing with the mucus of age
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