A gift from May
That summer she brought me mandazi from congo.
That summer I paraded myself like a Nubian king.
That same summer, I basked in the loving arms of a woman so special, I lost reason to live when she vanished before my eyes.
It was during that summer death came knocking.
When we refused to let him in he broke down the door and took the most priced possession. Mother.
The schizophrenic summer, the unpredictable summer that brought me so much joy yet so much pain.
The blissful summer that seemed oblivious to the harsh realities of war, death, pain.
That summer I lost uncles, aunties and brothers and sisters I never got to meet.
Summer forced me to sprout from age 4 to 40. I saw cadavers left to rot on the ground like black roses thrown on the floor by an angry lover.
I left summer. I remember being forced to leave summer, and off I went to live in unforgiving, harsh, cold, Lady Winter of Europe.
I remember losing my identity, losing my self-worth, disconnecting from a land so beautiful yet history so ugly.
In London, summer visits me less often but when he does like most I welcome him in pum pum shorts and a t-shirt.
When I lived in the land of a thousand hills summer was my confidant, he was everywhere I went but as time passed, so did our relationship.
I let you see me but you saw my colour.
I let you school me but you fooled me.
My past is not my pass, my future is not my freedom.
See me now, forget how you saw me then.
Hear me now, forget how you heard me then.
My mind is diseased with thoughts that don’t seem to decease,
“You’re gonna have to work harder than the white man, you may not get the job coz you’re black”
Stop! I am at ease. Knowing my identity extends beyond your narrow sight, makes me feel at ease.
If only you have better vision, you’d see it all it wouldn’t be so small. Go to specsavers, get a new pair, come back again and tell me what you see. Do you only see a black boy?
Prostitute and baby
Discover me, steal me,
Smell me, serenade me,
Taste me, embrace me,
Sale me, I need it. I feed it.
Though you do not see it, I feel it.
Pity oh pity, how I wish you'd see my strength.
To touch it, to feel it, to see it. Faint hearted, it's not for you.
My existence is a curse, bury me, hide me.
Small as it is, it drains me, it pains me, it loves me.
Judge me but spare me. Hurt me but pay me.
It is he that tickles my heart,
The smile, the hug, the frame.
It all makes sense when I look into his eyes,
He makes me curious, 50 shades of happiness,
50 ways of sexiness. His pimple is as beautiful as his Wrinkles.
Visualise love, that's us.
Our love is esoteric.
We are growing together, we are changing forever.