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Best Poems Written by Mbizo Chirasha

Below are the all-time best Mbizo Chirasha poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Decade of bullets

Decade of Bullets

Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou
See a procession of young mothers chattering their way
From water fountains in grenade torn sandals
And blood laced bras 

Somalia, Somalia, Somalia
See the moon disappearing in a mass of gun smoke
Guns splitting the stars from the skin of night 

Rwanda, Rwanda, Rwanda
This is a wound from which the pus of grief flows freely
Meandering through rock masses into the valley that lost its freedom 

Timbuktu, Timbuktu, Timbuktu
I hear a rush of footsteps of sorrow
Rugged peasants carrying their compounds to far away valleys of flowers

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017



Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Identity Apples

Identity Apples

iam a fat skeleton, resurrecting 
from the sad memories of dada 
and dark mysteries of aminism 
iam buganda 
i bleed hope 
i drip the honey of fortune 
makerere, think tank of africa 
i dance with you wakimbizi dance 
iam tanganyika 
i smell and fester with the smoke of african genesis 
iam the beginning 
kilimanjaro the anthill of rituals 
iam the smile of africa 
my glee erase the deception of sadness 
my tooth bling freedom 
iam  myself, iam gambia 
when others seep with bullets stuck in their stomachs 
i sneeze copper spoons from my mouth every dawn 
iam the colombia of africa 
iam the cinderella of africa 
where mediums feast with the ghost of kamuzu in mulange trees 
here spirits walk naked and free 
iam the land of sensations 
iam the land of reactions 
coughing forex blues 
squandermania 
i still smell the  scent of nehanda’ breath 
iam african renaissance blooming 
i stink the soot of chimurenga 
iam the mute laughter of njelele hills 
iam soweto 
swallowed by kwaito and gong 
iam a decade of wrong and gong 
iam blister of freedom vomited from the belly of apartheid 
i see the dawn of the coming sun in madiba ‘s eyebrows 
iam abuja 
blast furnace of corruption 
nigeria, the jerusalem of noblemen, priests, professors and prophets 
iam guinea i bling with african floridization 
iam blessed with many tongues 
my thighs washed by river nile 
 

iam the mystery of pyramids 
iam the graffiti of nefertiti 
i am the rich breast of nzinga 
iam  switzerland of africa 
the rhythm of kalahari sunset 
the rhyme of sahara, yapping, yelping 
iam damara, iam herero, iam nama, iam lozi, iam vambo 
iam bitterness, iam sweetness 
iam liberia 
iam king kongo 
mobutu roasted my diamonds into the stink of deep brown blisters 
frying daughters in corruption microwaves 
souls swallowed by the beat of ndombolo and the wind of rhumba 
iam the paris of africa 
i see my wounds 
iam  rhythm of beauty 
iam congo 
iam bantu 
iam jola 
iam mandinga 
i sing of you 
i sing thixo 
i sing of ogun 
i sing of god 
i sing of tshaka 
i sing of jesus 
i sing of children 
of garangaja and banyamulenge 
whose sun is dozing in the mist of poverty 
iam the ghost of mombasa 
iam the virginity of nyanza 
iam scarlet face of mandinga 
iam cherry lips of buganda 
come sankara, come wagadugu 
iam msiri of garangadze kingdom 
my heart beat under rhythm of words and dance 
iam the dead in the trees blowing with wind, 
i can not be deleted by civilization. 
iam not kaffir, iam not khoisun 
iam the sun breaking from the villages of the east with great inspiration of revolutions 
its fingers caressing the bloom of hibiscus 
liberation!

 


  
Identitätsäpfel
ichbin ein fettes Skelett, das wieder aufersteht 
aus traurigen Erinn'rungen an dada 
und dunklen Mysterien des Aminismus (1) 
ichbin buganda (2) 
ich blute Hoffnung 
ich tropfe den Honig des Schicksals 
makerere, Think-tank von Afrika (3) 
ich tanze mit dir wakimbizi(4) tanz 
ichbin tanganyika 
ich stinke und  eit're mit dem Rauch afrikanischer Genesis 
ich bin der Anfang 
kilimanjaro der Ameisenhügel der Rituale 
ichbin das Lächeln Afrikas 
meine Freude tilgt die Täuschung der Traurigkeit  
mein Zahn blingt(5) Freiheit 
ichbin ichselbst, ichbin gambia 
wenn andere aussickern während Kugeln stecken in ihren Mägen  
schneuze ich Kupferlöffel aus meinem Mund bei jedem Tagesanbruch 
ich bin das Kolumbien von Afrika 
ichbin das Aschenputtel von Afrika 
wo Medien schmausen mit dem Geist von kamuzu in mulange Bäumen (6) 
hier gehn Geister nackt und frei 
ichbin das Land der Sinneseindrücke  
ichbin das Land der Reaktionen 
huste Forex Blaus 
Verschwendungssucht 
ich rieche noch den Duft von nehanda Atem (7) 
ichbin Afrikanische Renaissance die blüht 
ich stinke den Ruß von chimurenga (8) 
ichbin das stumme Lachen von njelele Hügeln (9) 
ich bin Soweto 
verschluckt von kwaito(10) und gong 
ichbin ein Jahrzehnt von wrong/falsch und gong 
ichbin Blasen der Freiheit gekotzt aus dem Bauch der Apartheid 
ich sehe den Anbruch des kommenden Sonne in madiba ‘s Augenbrauen (11) 
ichbin Abuja 
Hochofen der Korruption 
Nigeria, das Jerusalem der Edelmänner, Priester, Professoren und Propheten 
ich bin Guinea ich “bling” mit afrikanischer Floridisierung  
ichbin gesegnet mit vielen Zungen 
meine Schenkel, gewaschen vom Nil 

ichbin das Geheimnis der Pyramiden 
ich bin das graffito of Nefertiti 
ich bin die reiche Brust von nzinga (12) 
ichbin die Schweiz Afrikas  
der Rhythmus of Kalahari Sonnenuntergang 
der Reim der Sahara, kläffend, jaulend 
ichbin damara, ichbin herero, ichbin nama, ichbin lozi, ichbin vambo (13) 
ichbin Bitterkeit, ichbin Süße 
ichbin Liberia 
ichbin König Kongo 
mobutu röstete meine Diamanten im Gestank von tiefbraunen Blasen 
briet Töchter in Korruptions-Mikrowellen 
Seelen geschluckt vom Beat des ndombolo(14) und dem Wind des rhumba 
ichbin das Paris von Afrika 
ich seh meine Wunden 
ichbin Rhythmus der Schönheit 
ichbin Kongo 
ichbin Bantu 
ichbin Jola 
ich bin Mandinga (15) 
ich sing von dir 
ich singe thixo (16) 
ich sing von ogun (17) 
ich sing von Gott 
ich sing von tshaka (18) 
ich sing von Jesus 
ich sing von Kindern 
von garangaja und banyamulenge 
deren Sonne döst im Nebel der Armut 
ichbin der Geist von Mombasa 
ich bin die Jungfräulichkeit von nyanza 
ichbin scharlachrotes Gesicht von mandinga 
ichbin Kirschenlippen von buganda 
Komm Sankara, komm Wagadugu 
ichbin Msiri vom Garangadse Reich 
mein Herz schlag unterm Rhythmus von Worten und Tanz 
ichbin die Toten in den Bäumen die wehen im Wind, 
ich kann nicht ausgestrichen werden von Zivilisation. 
Ichbin nicht Kaffer, ich bin nicht Khoisun 
ichbin die Sonne die anbricht in den Dörfern des Ostens mit großer Inspiration von Revolutionen 
ihre Finger liebkosen das Blüh'n des Hibiskus

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Letter to My Daughter

LETTER TO MY DAUGHTER

this poem reshuffled cabinet 
the rhythm resigned the president 
its metaphors adjourned parliament

my daughter 
awaken sleeping patriots eating peanut in slogan darkness 
rise dozing voters in the warmth of political acid 
awaken struggle heroes in graves tired of wrong epitaphs and fake eulogies 
awaken fat cats puffing zanunised propaganda burgers in slumber

rise green horns drinking much talked herbal tea of change 
grandfathers of patriotism to bring back 
truth drowning in potholes of grief 
god fathers of change to bring back my vote choked in drums of new renewed 
corruption

bring red hot charcoal to roast political bedbugs sucking our blood in daylight 
bring a word scientist to burn the justified injustice in poetic sulphuric acid

my daughter 
this poem reshuffled cabinet 
the rhythm resigned the president 
the metaphors adjourned parliament.

__________________________________

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Road to Damascus

ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Granite faith exfoliated by superguns and sanctions whirls,
on this earth succumbing into dry spell of peace,
War-crats and confidantes skinning freedom from its people
Kofi drinking coffee with revolutionaries and revolutionaries in 
Aleppo cafe on his way to Damascus

Daughters eating NGOs, GMOs, condoms and twitter
Bullet scorching the feet of super diplomats and mediators
Wiki leaks castrating the reputation of this state

Opportunists and oppositionists eating asparagus and liver in candle light dinners
Selfish pseudo prophets calculating political matrixes, salmonella laced sugar tongued 
Democrats cooking autocratic beetroot and propaganda pizza for media rituals and puppets initiation.

 ____________________________________________________________

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Children of Xenophobia

Children of Xenophobia

Children eating bullets and firecrackers 
Beggars of smile and laughter 
Silent corpses sleeping away fertile dreams 
Povo* chanting new nude wretched slogans 
Overstayed exiles eating beetroot and African potato 
Abortions and condoms batteries charging the lives of nannies and maids 
Children of barefoot afternoons and uncondomized nights 
Sweat chiselling the rock of your endurance 
The heart of Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako still beating like drums 
Violence fumigating peace from this earth. 
 

 


  
  
  
  
Kinder der Xenophobie
Kinder, die Kugeln und Feuerwerkskörper essen 
Bettler von Lächeln und Lachen 
Stille Körper die fruchtbare Träume wegschlafen 
Povo* die neue nackte elende Slogans singen 
Zu lang wegbleibende Exilierte die Rote Beete essen und Afrikanische Kartoffeln 
Abtreibungen & Kondome Batterien die die Leben von Kinder- und Dienstmädchen aufladen 
Kinder barfüßiger Nachmittage und kondomloser Nächte 
Schweiß der den Fels deiner Ausdauer meißelt 
Das Herz von Soweto, Harare, Darfur, Bamako schlägt noch wie Trommeln 
Gewalt die Frieden wegräuchert von dieser Erde. 
 

 

Translator's note:
* “the povo (the 'people' - referring to the low-income majority)” – This definition was offered in 1994.  Cf. “[...] it has been frequently asserted that the access of the povo (the 'people'. - referring to the low-income majority) to the University of Zimbabwe has improved .” (Paul Bennell and Mkhululi Ncube,  “A University for the Povo? The Socio-Economic Background of African University Students in Zimbabwe Since Independence”, in:  Journal of Southern African Studies, Vol. 20, No. 4, Dec. 1994, pp. 587-601. – A  skeptical  asssessment of povo is offered by an apologist of the West who asserts that “the Povo masses are not attuned to the western format of democracy.”  (Charles W. Duke, Zimbabwe: The Land That Weeps. Yeadon, Leeds, West Yorkshire : Best Books Online/ Mediaworld PR Ltd., 2003, p.83.)

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017



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Ethopia

ETHIOPIA

see talking slums
silenced tongues
freedom silenced
hope killed
a bling of ghettos
collapsed humanity

mothers weeping ,
under the compression of religion
trees dripping tears
Ethiopia your festering open wounds
you are my anger!

children burn in smoldering canisters of hunger
time opened new wounds of memories of old scars
chained on rocks of ignorance
you need a compass of decency

my poetry is a catalyst fermenting your injustices
into beverages of justice
you are my sadness!

your heartbeat bleached in political fermentation
rhythm galvanized in furnaces of cultural myth
laughter imbibed by the rude stomach of the gun
culture crushing under the weight of globalization

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Kalinga Kalinga

Kalinga- linga

A daughter of revolution fed on rich political nutrition 
With a smile bandaging scars of the streets and falsehood by political demons 
Fingers burnt in pseudo democratic pans of West, what a political humor 
I see you smelling love through the thick dew of corruption and robots 
True heroes and heroines swallowed up in the deep silence of chingwere and uzambwera* 
Leopold hill shadows faking dances to the throbbing rhythms of vumbuza drums 
Kalinga- linga- your rising sun will soon spread the beauty of its fingers in the skies of Afrika 
 

*Cemeteries of the poor (Translator's note) 
 


  
  
  
  
Kalinga- linga
Eine Tochter der Revolution, gefüttert mit reicher politischer Nahrung 
Mit einem Lächeln verbindet sie Narben der Straßen und Falschheit politischer Dämonen  
Finger verbrannt in pseudodemokratischen Pfannen des Westens, welch politischer Humor 
Ich sehe dich Liebe riechen durch den dicken Tau von Korruption und Robotern 
Wahre Helden und Heldinnen verschluckt in der tiefen Stille von chingwere und uzambwera* 
Leopold-Hill-Schatten täuschen Tänze vor zu den dröhnenden Rhythmen der vumbuza Trommeln 
Kalinga-linga – deine aufsteigende Sonne wird bald die Schönheit ihrer Strahlen verbreiten  in den Himmeln Afrikas  
 

* Friedhöfe der Armen 

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

In Memory of Motherhood

In Memory of Motherhood

Pain scribbled signatures in mothers buttocks
announcing the beginning of sunset
sun rays remained un vomited from the beauty of rainbows
war tied ropes of struggle  round their necks
many rhymes of suffering sung  and unheard
in congregations marching townships and mountains
in search of freedom seeds
seeds of their wombs yearned for freedom far to be harvested
motherhood a definition of honesty hearts
with breasts carrying scars ,laughter ,smiles, and hope
those dimples signatures of resilience
thighs with grafitti of bullet bruises
valleys of their backs smell  blood of sons,
sons long buried inthe barrel ofviolence
 life  stolen in its greenness
motherhood her hands trust  red clay soil , even
during  cloudless seasons
the womb that breathe  rays of this dawn ,today
scribbling this memory on the walls  of the rainbow
Shoulders of motherhood carried journeys and hope
how many times hope die ,rise and ripe
erase  propaganda from her shoulders
delete the baggage of slogan from from breasts
abort the luggage of war from her womb
bring  pastures that she  reap  fruits of freedom
motherhood how many times you cough sorrow
how many seasons you sneeze hunger
you have eaten enough poverty
and licked the rough hand of  war long unforgotten
motherhood freedom is no

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Gaddaffi

Gaddafi

I see America dancing in oil sodden nights, nostrils stinking the scent of death 
Your ghost exorcising demons of colonialist clout, walking along banks of the lost river 
River that lost its freedom 
Your shadow suffocating under the smell of exile and scent of slums 
Gaddafi, propaganda is fart, fart deodorizing the winds of the villages 
I have a burning passion to bring back the dimples and wrinkles of this country. 
 


  
  
  
  
Ghaddafi
Ich seh Amerika tanzen in öltriefenden Nächten, Nasenlöcher verströmen den Duft des Tods 
Dein Geist treibt Dämonen kolonialistischer Macht aus, schreitet an Ufern des verlorenen Flusses entlang 
Fluß der seine Freiheit verlor 
Dein Schatten erstickt unterm Geruch des Exils und dem Duft der Slums  
Ghaddafi, Propaganda ist ein Furz, Furz der die Winde der Dörfer deodorisiert 
Ich spür eine brennende Leidenschaft, die Grübchen und Falten dieses Landes zurückzubringen.

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017

Details | Mbizo Chirasha Poem

Kongo

Kongo

Your past is a mint of blood and tears 
Daughters tearing their way to decay 
Sons castrated by poverty and superguns, 
Kongo, a dream battered and bruised 
Your conscience poliorised by oppressive dance 
Highways clogged with hatred and vendetta 
Gutters donating stench and typhoid 
Kongo, let my poetry feed your withering dreams for guns, insult the tired memories 
Of voters. 
 


  
  
  
  
Kongo
Deine Vergangenheit ist ein Münzwerk von Blut und Tränen 
Töchter die ihren Weg zum Verfall aufreißen 
Söhne, kastriert von Armut und Supergewehren, 
Kongo, ein Traum, mißhandelt und zerschlagen 
Dein Gewissen poliorisiert von unterdrück'rischem Tanz 
Überlandstraßen verstopft von Haß und Aktionen der Rache 
Gossen spenden Gestank und Typhus 
Kongo, laß meine Dichtung deine welkenden Gewehrträume füttern, die müden Erinn'rungen beleidigen - 
der Wähler.

Copyright © Mbizo Chirasha | Year Posted 2017