Best Zaire Poems
Oh! Mother Africa!
From the East to the West, from the North to the South of
Africa is strife, killings, starvation and poverty
Brothers killing brothers
And innocent bloods are being shed every day
Arise! Mother Africa and save your child.
Give hope to the hopeless
And strength to the weak
Liberty to the oppressed
Peace to the restless and succor to the needy
From Free town in Sierra Leone
to Darfur region in the Republic of Congo.
From the Niger Delta region in Nigeria to Monrovia in Liberia
From Addis Ababa in Ethiopia to Sudan
From Luanda in Angola to Kinshasa in Zaire
From Cape Town South Africa to Nairobi Kenya
Let there be peace, love, unity and prosperity in the Land
Dear Mother Africa!
Show us the way and save Africa your beloved child in whom you are
Well pleased.
She is the mother place of all humanity.
From her womb was birthed the first man.
The first self aware and inventive beast,
Standing erect, carrying tools of his own invention.
Science tells us that in the beginning....
All men were black of skin, Negroid of features,
With very limited amounts of body hair.
Befitting of the Continent that bore them.
Great civilisations rose and fell on her bosom.
In Egypt, Kush, Ethiopia, Somalia, Ghana,
While cities like Khartoum, Axum and Timbuktu rose,
We pale-skinned peoples were still living in caves.
Remember Stanleyville and Leopoldville and Carthage.
Remember Rhodesia, Zaire and Zimbabwe. Remember.
Tribes, not nations, in Rwanda, Sudan, Chad, at war.
Little peace, if any, protects the innocent and weak.
Still, the peoples are joyful and positive in outlook.
The Fishermen of Eritrea and Capetown, laugh for the fish.
The Masai, since the dawning of time, are cattlemen.
While Ethiopia is home to the oldest continuous Christian church.
Africa is a land no man may conquer but all men desire.
A continent where desert sands or jungles easily swallow,
And digest entire civilisations, leaving only scant traces.
I cannot but love the Continent and its inhabitants.
Captured by the beauty of Lillian
I think of her on the coast of Durban.
With her is where I want to be.
So beautiful she could be a Wodaabe.
There's no way I could assign a worth,
Indeed the most beautiful woman on earth.
Being close to beauty encourages this man.
For her I would plow the fields of the Sudan.
To hold her hand would make me glad.
I would confess my love for her by the dry well in Chad.
Being near her could lift me from the Diaspora.
We could make a start in Liberia.
For her hand I would ask her ma ma;
permission to marry her in Ghana.
We're not moving too fast too soon.
There's a home waiting for us on the coast of Cameroon
There's no place I would fail to go,
Yes even to Bembe in the Congo.
We could lay on our backs admiring God's moon;
while sharing kisses in the meadows of Gabon.
Please don't say no and bring my eyes to shed tears.
My friends would have to console me on the streets of Zaire.
I would remain faithful in Tanzania,
Celebrate her beauty in Kenya.
For her love I would carry her cross in Askum, Ethiopia.
My love would not wonder,
It could stop the civil war in Rwanda.
What God had ordained let no man put asunder.
For you I'm a one woman man.
Our love stays strong and so I continue to pray.
We could start a farm in Great Zimbabwe.
For Lillian I'd leave America,
and hold onto her all the way to South Africa.
From Andover to Anaheim
Bangor to Boise
People speak up
Come on, get noisy
From Carteret in Jersey
To Cameroon far away
Speak up everyone
If just for one day
From Detroit to Dallas
Eaton to Ecuador
Come on everyone
Speak up some more
From France and to Finland
Ghana to Greece
People speak up
To bring about peace
From Halifax to Haiti
Indiana to Iraq
If we all scream up
Peace might just come back
Jerusalem to Jersey
Killarney to Kildare
Peace can resurface
If together we share
Lisbon to Lima
Michigan to Maine
Let’s make one voice
For peace is the gain
Netherlands to New England
Oahu to Oslo
Come on everyone
Let’s give it a go
Poland to Pittsburgh
Queens to Qatar
With peace in our pockets
We all can go far
Roxbury to Riverhead
Salisbury to Siam
We’ll acquire the peace
Just as we plan
Togo and Tobago
Uruguay to Ulster
It can all come true
If we’re ready to muster
Venezuela to Venice
Wyoming to Whales
Keep peace in our sights
Our plan will not fail
To get to our Xanadu
We just cannot stop
Keep screaming for peace
We’ll soon see the top
Yugoslavia to Yemen
Zimbabwe to Zaire
Once peace has been gotten
We’ll have nothing to fear
Come on everyone! Scream!
Uncle Roo
I forgot to celebrate your 89TH
Birthday but as you turn 90
May be i will
Some how for the some reasons
You know it
Gaddafi Is dead
'king of kings'
who died like a mole in a hole
Was he buried in the sea or space?
Wise one i believe you know
Amin Is dead dead
'The king of Scotland'
Fell from his monarchy
Butcher of black
Far from black is buried
Mubutu Sese seko dead dead dead
'The leopard king
In the jungles of Zaire
Buried like a fox
Rests in peace?
Like Charles Taylor
The deer of Africa
Breathed and went breathless
In the cage
He shies away always
Now Mandela sleeps
The true son of Africa
Not a king but a son
Our Mandela
Our Tata
Is gone
Son who wasn't a king
A son you become a father
Mandela stands even when he sleeps
Sons stand Kings fall
My Mugabe
Will you stand or fall?
OKAY? WHAT FIEND STOLE THY BODY ELECTRIC!?
thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool upon a midnight clear
full moonlight flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from whereabouts unknown
wove enchanting spell atop me shades
at more'n fifty gray hair
to fore, awakened from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, mutilated spindled
various aspects of myself a paired
which, aghast at such creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, limned paragon did wear
a grotesque from heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this soaked silhouette half bare
from the waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once bronzed handsome physique
grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
Page Number Two:
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to a privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth with **** face on that card!
Aha! Where is Kwame Nkrumah?
Black-unity champion with cocoa-filled head whose
Calabash never misses palm wine for elders;
Departure to bliss not a reality, tell us why?
Everything must be done to wake up Patrice Lumumba
Freedom fighter for Zaire- the lion of the exploited
Gave your blood to water the tree of liberty,
Is truly the Martin Luther King of Africa,
Join us again, animate our spirit of struggle for liberty
Kambarage Nyerere, are you still praying for brotherhood?
Mouth dripping honey, soul pulsating love for all
New, healthy tomato in stained basket of governance
Open the door of freedom; Jump into the ring. No delay
People-powered Nelson Mandela, are you coming back?
Quartet member of the moving train of liberation
Recall that you’re the curative Aspirin of power-ache
Stronger than the cruel stones of Ruben Island
Time for Africa to fly away from Ruben Island
Unfortunately Ruben Island guards still arrest
Very many and paint them “Old boys of Mandela”!
MAIL PUZZLE
Indians call India Bharat, so now you know.
And the Chinese call China Zhong-Guo
Islands are called Malvinas by some guys,
And Falklands by those with different ties.
Congo? Zaire? Congo? What is it today?
Will Mumbai revert to being Bombay?
Now I can reasonably understand
To the Germans, Germany’s Deutschland,
But I can’t see by what sleight of hand
Finns got to call it Suomi, which is Finland.
And the stamp-collector’s nightmare
Which really make you despair
Are Hungary which is (really) Magyar
And Burma which is (nearly) Myanmar
I think I’ll never again collect a stamp
In case I get geographical writer’s cramp.
Great black apparition in the jungles thick
Soft loving bellows heard, rough articulation
Fairly a glimpse may been seen today
As your magnificence dwindles to nothingness
From a volcanic region you originate
Zaire, Rwanda and Uganda is all there is left
To your once prolific society
Pushed back, murdered and mauled-
Misunderstood, fierce beast you were called.
A woman hazed that craze, lived with you
Now the names are frozen in time- with understanding
Yet- you are still disappearing.
Dian Fossey gave her life to your cause
Her death was monumental to your survival.
Great gorilla of the mountains
Gentle creature, with admirable family ties-
May your future endure, with the 700 left of you,
Endangered, mortally impaired
Why can't more see through your eyes?
Creature so close to human kind.
*Dedicated to the highly endangered Mountain gorilla.
A. Green
Carrion kings crow callous things in settled twilight cracks;
Their cankered queens quote noxious reams down croaking fabric tracks.
A patterned noose attentive sits atop a patient peak,
Whilst zephyrs drone from Zaire to home to wheeze unto the week.
Preachers pine an impassioned whine beneath their teething tongues;
'Twixt caustic lips their worm-breath sits to drain their sunken lungs.
Twin servile suns send sullen songs to sleep beneath a cross,
Which frays away it's stiff arms held aloft with burning moss.
It is the origin and hope of a thousand children, the love that transforms young seedlings to plants.
Its breath canvasses the woods of the Zaire o'er the hills of Zimbabwe down to the lowlands of the Mozambique.
It is the great tide that accompanies the Nile to kiss our cheeks at first light, the stars that glitter when the sun slumbers in celestial furlough.
Tis the bravery that enveloped the hearts of our forbearers, the burning lamp at the towerwatch of the Zanzibar.
It is the courage to walk the dark places in mythical lore. the strength that flows in Simba's pride.
It is the tongue of the Phoenix; the screams at slaver's bay. Tis the blistered feet of enslaved athletes at the diamond mines of sierra Leone.
Tis the very thread that weaves us in the roots of originality. It is the bowl that feeds all with kindness, the souls of a million bound in Porter's fellowship. Tis the spirits of my black martyrs
Thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool
upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata
flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from
whereabouts unknown
wove disenchanting spell
atop me shaded noggin more'n
fifty ruffle lake suns
Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened
from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper
fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent,
mutilated spindled
various horrid aspects of
myself nine inch
rusty nails impaired
which, aghast at such
creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged,
limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this
soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing
self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once
bronzed handsome physique
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made
for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be
temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth
with **** face on that card!
Young Tim goes to Zaire
to write his dissertation
in African Studies.
While there he meets and
marries a beautiful librarian
darker than he is, flies her
home to meet the family.
Tim's father asks his mother
if she knew about Margot.
Mother says she didn’t
but she’s not surprised.
On Thanksgiving Day
Tim likes the dark meat,
the biggest and meatiest
drumstick and thigh.
Donal Mahoney
Brother Joseph
Brother Joseph loved whiskey to drink
Never washed and oh boy did he stink
Monks stuck him in a tub
All took turns him to rub
He's no longer called the missing link.
Old Sparky
A cruel robber who hailed from zaire
Shot some people cos he didn't care
Then his gun jammed
Said I'll be damned
Now he's sat in the electric chair .
The Race
Snail Sammy he entered the race
Hare Harry said "you're a disgrace"
Harry stopped for a break
Sammy did overtake
Now Harry's got egg on his face.
Bing Yang
A brazen conman Bing Yang from Beijing
Conned a widow out of her diamond ring
Her folks were appalled
The police were called
Who caught Bing Yang when they set up a'sting'.
Hateful Kid
A hateful kid loved to make the girls scream
Put spiders and dead flies in their ice cream
So they got their own back
Tied him up in a sack
And they threw him head first into a stream.
Written 3rd July 2019.
Children already grown
Kisses already forgotten
Plants already flowered
Flowers already burgeoned
Forests depleted
Streams degenerated
Hear the desperate cries
Feelings already aged
Hearts already bruised
Souls already alienated
And lovers already gone
We have nothing left
The singing birds
The meowing cats
Always on our shoulders
And the naughty dogs
Barking sporadically
How presumptuous! How impertinent
The past won't come back
And time leaves us memories
Hidden and huddled under black ice
We talk about tomorrow, about the future
Ah! Good. That's all we can utter
Immediately
We can flee to the hills of Zaire
Like the elephants.
P.S. Translation of ‘Et Des Amours Déjà Partis’ by Hébert Logerie.
Copyright © June 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.