Wettlauf Um Afrika

Wettlauf Um Afrika

Africa is known for its wildlife

But is it attracted or given birth?

When lots are drawn by foreigners

Who is it that decides our worth?

Your map of Africa is very nice

You're not interested in seeing mine

Take a victory lap and claim ownership

Frenchman, Arab, Englishman and kind

It is not that we were born without silver spoons

It is what was attracted by their glow

Brothers became masters and other slaves

Sometimes the Nile floods with bodies,  don't you know?

The rubber man took my hands so I can't salute,

The civilizers left me barren and destitute

Across the gulf my sister was sold as a prostitute

They fight over who's evil was less absolute

What does your guilt even constitute?

Surely men who cherish their good repute

Do you even see me in your charities and institutes?

(Do you even see me in your charities and institutes?)

The desert winds move the sands

They cover what misery was built by hands

You might scramble for Africa

But is it you Africa wants?

Post script - not being neither African nor of any of the colonizing powers, the poem is really more about trying to embody something to understand it. The title, “Wettlauf Um Afrika,” is German for “The Scramble for Africa.” The reason why I decided to use the German title is as a reference to the Berlin conference. Initially this piece was going for my drawer but after being told it’s a strong one, I decided to post it here. Draw your own conclusions and by all means, ask.

Diplomacy - Persian Cats

I'm not a diplomat

I just lie a lot

I spoke the truth

But had to stop

Persian cats don't meow

They're censored very hard

They look but aren't seen

Their survival is a complex art

Persian cats don't hiss

They send missiles instead

And when they bite into your tuna

They'll bite it through proxy bread

Persian cats are not a monolith

And make no mistake

Simply because a cat is Persian

Does not a Persian cat make

And the Persian Cat sat across from the Israeli Cat,

Feeling he could take to no end

Really they are quite similar

In another world they might've been friends

Winston Loves Big Brother

A poem about 1984

Broken mind, seeing blind

There's not much I haven't left behind

Comrade O'Brian,

I apologize for the traitor I saw in my mind

Hard control by soft means

The leash is just what people need

And should you relent your grip

They'll beg to have it back it seems

-------

In my dream, where I am a man

I love Julia and no other

But as the digit I've become I must admit-

Winston Loves Big Brother

--------

We were always at war with Eurasia

A lengthy and bloody euthanasia

They want to take our unfreedoms, allegedly but incidentally-

We were always at war with East Asia

---------

"Freedom isn't free"

But contented for too long, I can't bother

in shame which long became pride I'll admit-

Winston Loves Big Brother

What is a man but... I would't know

Something which I did long but smother

I am but the symptom of his glory

Winston Loves Big Brother

Reels Fatigue

Im a man of your world brother - Im covered in blood

Im a man of your world sister - my boots are caked in mud

I murdered Issac to show my love of god

I fucked whoever I could and wept, am I still a stud?

Please ask me questions when you film me on the street

Please see my silence as my defeat

I had the news reels flying on repeat

"20 dead on a crowded street" I laughed myself to sleep

Let me question you - a parasite to a whore

Let me question you - who make a living on all fours

Even though I don't at all

(at all)

We're all kings and queens here - crowns of styrofoam

Bleating like goats into cheap streaming microphones

The difference is it's a shame a goat must die for mutton

It's a blessing when we're gone

I'm a man of your world brother- but you are not a man of mine

I'm a man of your world sister - but you're not a woman of mine

I'll be willing, you'll be Abel

Consider this a cold take from he, of a colder time