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Best Poems Written by Marco Kalunduka

Below are the all-time best Marco Kalunduka poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

The Color of Opression

The Color of Oppression

They trespassed into the motherland bearing nothing but unknown gifts to our small minded leaders
Bartered with them for valuables far exceeding what they could offer in exchange
They drew on masks to conceal their fascist ideals towards us; they pretended to be our friends
Fake smiles were displayed as they greeted us, smiles that concealed their wicked hearts from our midst

My ancestors impressed by sugar, clothes, bibles, and rum sold their people for meager goods
Un-broadened minds restricted by sacred traditions, if only they knew
If only they knew what hell these white demons could bring, the hatred they harbored
They practiced mathematics on us as they divided my people

Our traditional setting, our cautious nature, our yet to be broadened minds 
We fell victim as they did what aliens do to conquests…… Brain washed us
Like mineral resources my people were exploited, our minds filled with ethnic propaganda
They whispered lies we believed, lies that dampened our free spirits, and lies that chained our hearts

They imposed slavery, stole our riches with colonialism, imprisoned our minds with imperialism
Decades my people lay captive, their hearts beating to a common voice
A booming call was cast across the motherland; a call for freedom was issued
My people`s hearts became a group of lions, their hearts swelling with pride

White is the color of those who started the first and second world war
White is the color inflicting social injustice, instigating a social stereotype
White is the color of the truly wicked, the color of the third Reich
White is the color of the ashes left behind in Hiroshima and Nagasaki

White is the color of those who lynched my American brothers and sisters
White is the color of the Nazi and the Ku Klux Klan
 Yet white is ironically the color of peace, love and tolerance
White is the color of shameful men, the color of a cancer with no treatment
 
White is the color of those whose power is dwindling with each decade
White is the color of the weak
White is the color of those drained of life, those ruled by death
White is the color of those defeated by true freedom

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

Unpeeeling the Poetry

A word has the power of magic, a presence so big it fills the entire room
That word gives courage to those in fear
It holds a nation together during the worst time of its existence
A word gives true meaning to a bunch of letters grouped together

When I say you`ll find me fighting on my own in a war that’s already been won, where do your thoughts take you?
If I said I wanted to unpeel you and explore the delicious pleasures your body hides from the world?
Or if I told you a story of a man who loved a woman so fiercely he defiled her until her body understood what nirvana was
A story of a man who cut out his heart and gave it to the woman he loves

Where do your thoughts take you as you read this?
There`s something poetic about a man who bears it all for the woman he loves
The romance in itself so beautiful that only death completes it
A love so real you could taste it with your tongue, so real you could feel it with your heart 

Tell me, don`t those words seduce your mind into place where lust, love and erotic rapture unite as one?
I have always loved the sweet musky scent of a virile woman`s cunt
Cunt, the word hated by most women yet when the right guy says it, it arouses her loins awakening the potential succubus within
The scent of a woman`s cunt, the taste of her fluids on my tongue, the feel of her flesh on my lips

Words with a seduction so deep that your mind begins to form a picture
The beautiful art of cunnilingus painted by your deepest and darkest desires
A word did that to you, a word

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Unknown Soldier

He stood as he braced himself for the greatest battle he`ll ever known
His entire life`s existence an accolade towards this very moment, this last battle of the gods
His breath slow and measured, steadying himself for what his yet to come
An attempt to hide the frantic beatings of his heart, conceal the frightened child within his soul

His life marred by the loss of the his loved ones, his cries of pain echoing throughout the silent night
He killed to save lives, but this burden was too great for his conscience, the guilt never really got soothed


His life has been edged on three confounding principles, love your woman, honor your God, and defend your country
Lived with these ideals all his life, even as life gratified him with impossible odds
He loved his woman, even when the gods raped her, he still loved his woman
He honored the Gods, even when they took all he loved from him, he still honored them

He defended his country, enemies came, enemies fought, enemies vanquished
A simple man with nothing but his heart on his sleeve, a simple man with no noble title
A man born with no privilege to call his own, a man with no strength but his own
Though he fell apart, though his heart bled, though his soul marred, he stood up against impossible odds

The enemy outnumbered him, rushing towards him like a stampeding herd of wildebeest
Alone he stood and fought impossible odds, alone he stood and fought impossible odds
Fiercely he fought, every strike of his sword hitting its mark, he fought recklessly

His skin punctured with stab wounds, his skin covered in dried blood, his shield had failed
The enemy`s number had finally caught up, his form dwindling, his strikes becoming wilder in desperation


With one last battle cry, his voice loud, his last cry sent chills down the spines of his enemies.
One last swing of his sword, one last act of defiance, one last act of courage, one last fight
“Once more into the Frey, into the last good fight I`ll ever know, live and die this day”
And as he fell, angel cries sounded from the heavens, a song of defiance played for him

Peace engulfed a fallen soldier; her soft caresses soothed the hurt endured in his life
His last words were the same as those who died for their ideals, those who died for freedom
“Love your woman, Honor your Gods and defend your country”
He`s laid to rest…. Laid to sleep in peace in world filled with hate and suffering

Finally he found peace in a world ruled by death, finally his soul found a home.

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

A Troubled Soul

A Troubled Soul

They use these three words for countless endeavors, a face with no soul and a body with no mind
Impaled by my inside thoughts, my heart and mind dueling each other for control, a civil war
My heart yearns for the smile of my past while the mind shoves me towards a future devoid of a soul
My future smile disgusts me; a place filled with the stout stench of dying souls and haunted cries

I yearn for peace within me; I yearn to soothe the cries of my weeping heart
I search for an escape; I yearn solitude, a place where the actions that stem from my thoughts offer no consequence
They call it the greater good, yet the good from such actions is hard to decipher
As I sacrifice my virtues to settle with someone beneath me, to avoid mewling over a lost love

I tell myself if you keep me distracted then my thoughts are diverted from her
I convince myself to fight on, yet the warrior within me has long been laid to rest
Heaven has shunned my romantic soul, cupid`s aim is a distant memory of what it once was
As my heart drowns in a love that betrays me, a cruel sick twisted gut-wrenching deceitful love, a false love

Stuck in limbo my essence remains fragmented and my dreams still remain tormented
Left behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart, left behind to reminisce the past
Dead inside my dreams are in black and white; my dreams are to leave this world behind
My lungs choked as they struggle to breathe the breath of life

Like a fishing line my soul has been reeled in and cast out into the open repeatedly
And like a game of football, my love has been kicked around far too many times
Left to meander aimlessly like the soulless creature of darkness that I am
Left to ponder on the inevitability of a demise yet to be told, yet to be unfolded

I am stuck and my emotions betray my secrets to the wind, betraying my cause of life
No love within the depths of my heart, no compassion to embrace the cold wilderness within me
I walk the path alone and see what you`ve become without me, I sink further towards the gallows
You bitch, at least now I`ll see you in the misery and the hate of what you`ve become

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

The Loner

Like a shadow within a shadow merging with the darkness of night, I am the shadow merger
Like the sense of invisibility that cloaks my corpse from humanity`s gazes, I am Lord Voldermort
How does a shadow want to metamorphose into an actual silhouette?
Under what inclinations do I find my solitude as the answer to the despair that might follow my existence?

An anti-climax to the socially incompetent, the socially unavailable, the one thing never embraced by humanity
This isolation is imperative to my survival in this realm, a necessity that I must grasp without any illusions
For I am like the Leopard, Tiger and Jaguar, we only seek mates not compatriots
Roaming free in the wilderness of emotions, free from all forms of social inclinations, free to soar

I stand on a vantage point; I assimilate the air and let the lingering conversations surround me
My soul feels true freedom, my shoulders feel weightless, and my body feels like summer…. Yes for I am truly alive
My thoughts run rampant, stampeding their way towards a boulevard of open dreams with reckless wanton
 Unapologetic to the masses that seem in awed by the peculiar perspectives of my ideologies

My mind never sleeps, forever on the railroad; my mind is the train of thoughts
It short circuits in blissful rapture and embraces the precious mementoes in time where it’s just me, myself and I
It recalls the earliest onset of my solitude, a time when I questioned the flaws within my blueprint
A time when I questioned my maker, I questioned my purpose, yes I questioned my own mind with queries that where beyond my comprehension


But when I am alone, I have the peace that enshrouds me in shear tranquil serenity
The colors seem brighter as they reveal themselves to be iridescent, I am truly at peace
Birds sing mating songs while the gentle flapping of butterfly wings send smooth oscillations that massage the contours of my eardrums
It is the music that soothes the raging beast within me, the lullaby to the demon guarding my soul

Acknowledging my introversion tendencies brings inertia to my peace, nonstop
The only friend who is like my own shadow, he is always beside me
Silence elegantly plays a tune that muffles out the background, silence leaves no echo
I howl towards the moon, I form the only individual of a renegade band of lonesome wolves

I am the lone wolf…….. I am THE LONER

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

Photons of Life

Photons of Life

For millennia they remained etched in the very essence of mother Gaia herself
For eons they`ve travelled at sub-sonic speeds within the space we call the universe
They brought light to the darkest realms, casting aside the shadows birthed in oblivion
They emanate from a large, hot stronghold at the center of the Milky Way

They summon life to its prime pinnacle and rejuvenate the one we call the man of steel
Acting like a well-run Chernobyl and Fukushima, they are our source of energy
Han Solo and Darth Vader could not tame the force within them; the empire could never own them
Radicalized and free spirited like the ideals of Che Guevara, they run rampant throughout space

As the world stood in shadows only Einstein saw them for what they really were, only Einstein saw them as particles of light
To mere mortals this spectrum of light rays is like Susan Storm….. Invisible
Moving in single jet-like streams, they teleport themselves into the land of the living
Flashing iridescently for a millisecond, reminding us of the frailties of life, here one minute gone the next

Their jurisdiction knows no bounds, travelling at warp speeds no planet is beyond their reach
The cosmic gods worship them, for without them the cosmos would be a barren wasteland of static waves
A junk yard where shooting stars and meteorites aggregate in their disorientation
Wishes made upon shooting stars would never reach the audience of the Gods

And hideous hordes of space demons would forever terrorize the furthest corners of the galaxy
Mystic beings looked towards the heavens and found streams of photons fighting hordes
Mortal beings looked towards the skies and dreamed of flying above the clouds
They shone on every planet, brought life to the bleak, and sired a new generation of demon slayers

For once Darth Vader trembled; for once Han Solo could take the God on and not perish
To grasp the meaning of my words, you`d have to be up at dawn, to see photons reclaim the skies from darkness, to see the retreating shadows
You`d need to see them banished for the ten hours that the photons rule the skies
You`d need to see these Photons Of life

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

Words of a Poet

One last good fight, go down swinging, one last act of true defiance
Words engraved within my soul, words that echo within my heart of hearts
My tidal waves of emotions resemble the roots of the welwichia…. They`re deep
As I contemplate the reprocurtions of my next move against the Gods

I have lost my most valued person and never really found a replacement for her
The pain is gone and only numbness colonizes my soul, only numbness colonizes my soul
I fought bravely, I loved fiercely, but in the end it was all for a shallow emptiness within
What if I fought longer, what if I graduate, what if the world turns its back on my ideals



There is a deep hurt inside me, A deep hurt that no lavishly crafted sentence could explain
There is a deep sense of loss harboring my essence, my very soul in chains, my Kunta Kinte is a slave
My beliefs have been raped, My beliefs ashamed to associate themselves with me, yes my faith has deserted me
Words of a poet in turmoil, words of a poet in limbo, a poet on the brink of oblivion


True love has shunned my romantic heart and turned it into broken class, my heart is in pieces
My mind is like a man with low sperm count; my mind shoots blanks on this page
My voice decomposes like a rotting carcass, my once loud, proud vibrant voice
Fragmented memories pretend to re-shape the forgotten ones I lost, the ones that don’t haunt my dreams

The ones where joy filled my core, ones where nightmares where only a myth
Ones where my nightmarish haunted cries never went beyond the walls of my bedroom
My lips have gradually forgotten how to form a smile, I don’t remember how to anymore 
Words of a poet in turmoil, words of a poet in limbo, a poet on the brink of oblivion

There is a deep emptiness, a soul sucking abyss reaching out in all corners of my essence
The point where you`ve experience so much pain and grief it literally doesn`t hurt anymore
The point all you are inside is an empty shell hoarding a body, the point where the breath of life forsakes your existence
I am at that point were words just don’t cut it anymore, the point where they fail to act like paint brushes creating an image of the hopelessness within
 

Words of a poet in turmoil, words of a poet in limbo, a poet on the brink of oblivion
Words of poet in civil war, a mutiny of the mind, an alliagence of the heart
Words of a poet in turmoil, words of a poet in limbo, a poet on the brink of oblivion

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

They Brewed

In a far-away land hot moist less air rises up to the heavens in a single file, heavy with the echoing cries of drought
It meets a blanket of cold moist air of the stratosphere descending, air that is saturated with the cries of those to be rescued 
Their meeting forms the platform of life, hydrogen and oxygen atoms exploding into a volatile environment, exploding into life
They collide at sub-sonic speeds, defying even the laws that govern the speed of light

Water vapor has been produced; a giant congregation of mystified water droplets has been issued
Majestic cumulus-nimbus clouds are the offspring; they are the ones we dream of touching, the ones we yearn to ride
I watch them grow and cover the skies in white, I watch as they slowly become the benguelas of my childhood
Carrying the dreams of the forgotten towards the heavens, bringing them close to the audience of the Gods

They brewed…. I watched as the benguelas metamorphose into their second form, their true form
Watched as the white inside them gets drained until only the dark remains intact
Waited as the friction of atoms created a static that summoned electric photons to line up into a lightning bolt
They introduced us to a spectacle that even today, scientists cannot explain this phenomenon

The hours elapsed and yet they moved closer, persistent in halving the distance between our two realms
The hours elapsed and yet they grew darker still, letting themselves become inked in the souls of the dark
“It begins with a slight breeze encapsulating leaves in rhythmic motions”, a slight whisper of a promise to be fulfilled 
A whisper of the benguela`s will to replenish the life blood of thee earth…… water 

They arrive in silence, riding on the soundless winds of their ancestors
They`re presence felt with the echoes of raindrops that smash into the terra
These shadow riders emerge at the most opportune moment

They brewed for kilometers; thunder rumbled for hours, they flashed lightning for countless seconds….. Finally they`ve arrived
Travelling on the winds of their ancestors, deeply rooted in their sacred traditions of giving water to the dwellings embedded in the earth`s atmosphere 
They brewed……..  Finally the rains have come
I watched as they grew, I watched as they flew, I watched as THEY BREWED

Details | Marco Kalunduka Poem

The Making of An Empire

Empires forged from the suffering of others reign supreme
Their sweat is the mortar between bricks holding the structure in place
Their minds brainwashed not to dare think about being more than what they are
Their bodies malnourished from long labor hours and little sleep

This is what defines a nation seething with tyrants
Vultures circle the skies looking to invite death to the dinner table
Hyena laughs are heard across the land muffling out any cry for help
Their laughs heard as they squabble over rotting pieces of flesh in an already stripped carcass

This is how empires are forged, by eating the young of your enemies
By showing malice brimming like hot lava underneath your eyes
Reveal your true intent, become the savage the kingdom has turned you into
Dance and allow you to be seduced by death herself

Forge your dynasties on the broken bones of those you trample on
Burn human bodies and use their hair to make whips that keep your slaves in line
Urinate and defecate on their graves, cover their headstones in their own blood
The decadence of immortality begins with the burning of nations

Carve through the dust and make the chaos your strength
And watch your dynasties built on the shoulders of your queen.