Coquette? No!

You will sit by me with that fancy negligee.
You’ll sip your juice with a desire key
As you chortle when I footle and can’t see,
That jewel, that you’re a chorister of Valentine:

You hold a dove and a light vivacious candela,
Wearing a purple skirt and a solace umbrella,
Your tongue atop a wine glass and life novella
In hand, you defy life, the groove of Stella.


Why Should I Be Smiling?

There’s a trust seed planted in me
It’s now the wreck I will surely be
There’s a smile hidden deep in my soul
It’s now the façade of my inner mole
I’ll try to smile to be the revealed
It’s ‘what?’ sadness that’s being sealed
Trust seems to be my flawed guiding star
The very journey that’s left me scars
Life isn’t really what you make of it
It’s the cacophonous noises in daily feats
On the streets are smiles that mean harm
And defeated I become in their sum
So why should I be smiling?
‘Be strong’ scream the inner voice
Words don’t really mean much as choice
Care has become the cross I carry
Humility has made me a potter in a hurry
I wonder if smiling is a reasonable mental state
Because hope is naiveté that’s now my fate
Silence is the rare jewel I crave
So I need strength to speak and be brave
So why should I be smiling?
When silence is the golden state I seek
Self-neglect is what I’m beseeched
So why should I be smiling?
Serenity! Silence!
Beautiful, natural silence!
Perhaps, that’s why I should be smiling!


An Orphan On Your Roof

There’s a giant, red knife in your hand
But your heart has become even sharper
There’s a dark cloud gathered over your house
And your eyes are filled with vengeful darkness
Listen to me my angry brother!
At the edge of the precipice we stand
Will your red knife, vengeful eye save us?
Raise not your red knife, my brother
There’s a homeless, orphan above your hut
Tiny, hungry, hopeless and out of school
Ask her why she’s cold and alone!
Your dad knows what happened to her mother
Your uncle knows what happened to her father
Your brother knows what happened to her sister
Your cousin knows what happened to her little brother
Listen to me my angry brother
Raise not your red, knife my brother
That tiny little girl over your roof…
Look into her eyes…do you see vengeance?
Big, white forgiving eyes in forgiving awe
She’s all alone but hates no one…
She’s hungry, thirsty and cold but remains quiet
Listen to me my angry brother
She’d be the first to go by your red knife
Look at her tiny frame, my brother
Search your frame for the slightest humanity
Pinch yourself to know that I’m right
Is she your pawn or didn’t u know she’s there?
Listen to me my brother
You’re red-eyed, angry…
But do you know you can as well smile…?
Fake it my brother and see her smile
That skeleton can smile, my angry brother…
Put your red knife down and see…
To just see the orphan on your roof


Gone with the Nile

She sat on the riverbank,
Her waist as slender as
Wasp’s own, and looked
At her face, dark like unrefined
Microcrystalline African diamond,
So beautiful and innocent like she was
Moulded from the darkest
African soil by the skilled
And humblest
Of all artists.

With her breasts bare, erect,
Rich and naively nature’s natural,

She wound the rag on
Her lower self and played
With the ripples formed
By the gentle raindrops
And the friendly baby fish,
She sat still, feeling the rumble
Of the thunder in a distance,
Rumbling like a dying sound
of receding enemy arsenal.

But as she fetched her take,
She was fetched, and there
She was gone with the Nile.


You order the poetry books on amazon.



As someone who grew up in war conditions and lived as a refugee for a long time, I'm sometimes considered by many people in the 'west' to be prone to (or have) low self-esteem, be poor or illiterate. Living as refugees or displaced persons, who depended on the good will of others put people in a situation where they don't think much about themselves. But that's not everyone though.

As I stood by our front desk at my place work talking about Race and Identity in relation to my book, Is 'Black' Really Beautiful?, the issue of why many African peoples in North America become so over-sensitive when racial issues come up! For many rational people, this owes its origin to slavery and racial segregation.

But one of my coworkers, a person of European descent, was surprised to realize that her 'black' friend, a very intelligent woman, easily becomes irritated by simple things she [friend] considers racist. The friend considers any mention of a watermelon racist; and complains a lot about 'white privilege.' This means that discrimination is considered something 'whites' don't face because of 'white privilege.' In any discussion between 'blacks' and 'whites', 'white privilege' issue comes up!