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Walking Shoes #13_WS13

Walking Shoes

Sun to the gun

Daughter to tears you consciously let run

Down my face

Leaving a trace

Of centuries of women battering

Your tongue defiles my kind and me

With sharp words of slander

like sepulchral mantras

Creating masks

that trap us under

like suffocating black skins

mutating beneath thick layers of foundation

suppressing our pigmentation

with the expectation

of your approval

instead of your brutal

fist defacing me

making my womanhood the worst form of slavery

imposed on human species.

Before you crush me into pieces

This is

Where I draw the line.

No longer will I

Be that girl who walked streets

face covered with thick layers

Of foundation and mascara

To cover patches where you scared her.

A piece of trash

is what you made me feel I was worth.

Making me hate from childbirth,

my looks to my base

Before mirrors trying to erase

The black of me

Just look fair enough for you.

But this time I’m through

For long I tried to understand you boo.

But you kept your boot up in my face

Stamping your authority

Over me and my body

Now I’m tired of trying to understand

Now I over-stand

with my walking shoes up in hand

as I am moving on,

Not because I am not strong

I am too strong to stay

nd endure this for yet another day.

Done with fighting you,

I’m strapping on my walking shoes

And finally leaving you

By Mercy Dhliwayo

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Thin Line #09_WS13

In the ninth Woman Scream (Lesotho Chapter) contribution we feature work by Bulawayo born emcee, slam/ performance poet and writer; Mercy Dhliwayo also known as Xtreme Sanity.

This is the first Woman Scream (Lesotho Chapter) audio contribution. Check out Thin Line on her soundcloud page and kindly share.

Peace.

 

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I am a Woman – #02_WS2013

I am a Woman

Shyly, in innocence, my first bud sprung,
Soon to discern
Who they said was I.
Quick to water with words were they,
Onto which, for dear life,
I strictly hung…
Whispers hoarse
Behind doors closed,
Thus my schooling begun:

“I am Woman;
The crumbling of man.
I am rug;
Nose-wipe for some wicked thug.
I am Old-And-Shoddy-Rag
On which thine vile desires
Thou art to drag.

I am Weak,
Worth no more
Than a broken stick.
All that is about me is dreary and bleak.
I am one on whom to look
With malice,
With guile;
To be abhorred- that is I.”

I drank in the teaching;
Lapped the produce of their tongues.
Biting off large chunks
Of their verbal utterance,
I swallowed them whole.
I withered as I grew
And knew not what to do…

“I am Scorn;
Away from me must the light be shone!
I am Harlot, I am Shame;
Behold mine body with great disdain.

I am Insect
Waiting in ready beneath your thumb
I am Woman;
I have no name.”

I listened, I heard,
‘Till, with bloated head,
I did want hear no more.
Something was changing;
My rose was in bloom,
And to contain it within me
I had no more room!
Now my song is different,
Listen and hear
Behold ye and see
The breaking of dawn:

“I am Speech,
Sturdy and strong;
Invoking within you
Emotions long gone.

I am Grace,
A waltz in my walk;
Your mouth agape
Yet not do you talk.

I am Strength;
Your helper, but not your slave.
I am one who came
From The One Who Is.

I am Vigour, I am Skip;
Passion seeps
From succulent lips.
I am Jewel, I am Beam;
Superior in poise,
Entrancing in gait.

I am Shout,
Hearken ye the awakening noise!
I am Rage;
Do you dare to spoil my page?

I am Fountain,
Splashing; soothing…
I am earthquake-
Disturbing in my wake!

I am alive,
I see that I am.
Not as I was,
But now I subsist.
I am Phenomenon. I am Beauty.
I am Woman.
I am Soul.”

I am. I am Woman.

By Anna T. Gowera

(Zimbabwe)

:: Lyrical Bacteria 2013

 

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