LyriQ's Lounge - Penstrokes
LyriQ's Lounge - Sometimes change is only a penstroke away
Mother Afrika by LyriQ  4-15-2012

Judging from her white camellia-toned exterior
One could stumble beneath distinct deceptions
That she be a visitor from another land
But if the profound intensity of true passion
Could paint a self-portrait in her image
Doubt would never be able stand on its own
For she, though lacking the dark chocolate blend
Is a full-blooded natural born AfriKan
Enslaved by the very bloodline that made her unwhole-ly
Stuck somewhere between cultural die lines of black and white
Ying-Yanged impressions that cradled hopeful-less dimensions
Stirring in the torturous whispers of the night seeking justice
Skilled with the fatal whip of a deaf-defying pen
She set out to change the cruel yet exquisite country she lived in
Word by prophetic poetic word
Testimony by agonizing testimony
As soils become saturated with the senseless persecution of her brothers and sisters
Prevalent as the star-laced skin that adorns the African skyline
Her soul becomes so full of their cries
She can still feel the 37 sharp jabs of the knife that stole Ina’s only son
She bleeds internally for Magata’s younger sister, brutally raped and disgraced
Before submitting to death’s crass demands
Grief-strickened she stands in utter disbelief
As Tibatu shared of his manhood being slaughtered by misguided hate
The rancid odor of Apartheid dressed in rusty old chains
Jingling and jangling with a boldness so as not to be ignored
By the likes of those who pillage, rape, and kill on command
And those trying desperately not to be consumed by the dreadful misery
Clinging to their existence in the here after
It‘s no wonder the black-hearted side of her often wished to despise the white
But Ubuntu principals instilled deep in the crevices of her psyche
Refused to allow her to take sides
She was who she was because of who we all are
And though Buti, her little brother who bore the same flesh-tones as she,
Believed in inferiority
Yet she believees in dignity and compassion
And respect for  human kind…black or white
You see in her mind, there are no defining lines of separation
Carrying the begotten shame of a race within a race upon her boney little shoulders
She vowed to wave her bold heart-tendering banner of love
Through radio waves and journalistic accounts of the living dead
Until the still vibrant yet diminishing soul of her Afrikan homeland
Learns to adopt the harmonious practices of civility
To embrace the vital efficacy of human life
Goodness and the sweetest of mercies
For ALL who call her Mother
Tomo’s Eyes
You…my love…instill hope…
Crafting transcontinental possibilities
Beneath a silver-lined sky
Two distinct existences collide
You mimicking calypso tunes of a foreign land
Still craving the celestial savorings of the islands
Ancestral traditions, rich and enticing recipes of old
Like Indian Flatbread and fried Plantains
Tickling the palette with sassy spices untamed
Lingering just beneath the surface of a prestigious name
Destined to be a healer of the heart, sparing many lives
Logically interpreting life
As seen through Tomo’s eyes
A Trinidadian man
Who stands upon the premise of integrity
Surely he fails to realize
In him, I’ve discovered a new reality
A brand new existence
Fully equipped with satin inner-reflections
Whipped lovingly upon the shoulders of a blissful kiss
His touch…
His loving gaze….
Penetrating ancient boundaries
Untainted by past lives
Passion clouding sanity lines
With each raging crave of thee
He…he rescues me from me
Drained my heart of conflicting impurities
Before infusing me skillfully
With uncertain emotions primed from the afterbirth of my womb
Emotions in he
Hidden beneath blinding sheaths...of rationality
Of a manly man’s mentality
Infuriating practicalities that bind him
Often blinding him
From seeing what is right before his eyes
True love…God given…
Website provided by  Vistaprint
provided by Vistaprint