Poetry

I’m Dr Capitalism

I am dr capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I stand for individualism, monetarism and westernism

Yesterday when I was in a state of primitivism

I was called: feudalism not communalism I robbed your afrika with violence slavery, fraudulence and colonialism

I rule with church, market, state, nepotism commercialism and imperialism

I am dr. capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I fight aetheism and paganism with my god-complexism

I’m god, i make guns to kill internationalism

With war-mcarthyism i wipe out communism

I contest anything and detest everything about socialism

I discourage all from activism, bolshevism and radicalism

I am dr capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I don’t mind stalinism that’s still europeanism

I don’t like your afrikanism or pan-afrikanism

I divide with partisanism, sectarianism and tribalism I undermine organisational unity with cabalism elitism, factionalism and opportunism

I stifle oneness, togetherness and forwardness with homophobia, xenophobia and racism

I am dr capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I lynch ubuntu/botho or humanism with amerikanism To me blacks stand accused of barbarism cannibalism and heathenism

I demote ‘rastafarianism’ and promote satanism

I plant democracy, white supremacy and consumerism

I breed greed, hate, lies, ageism, alcoholism and spiritism

I am dr capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I sex so much i am accused of sexual hedonism

I invade anywhere and conquer everywhere with sexism I belittle, negate and ridicule womanism with machoism I denounce, renounce, demonise and refuse feminism

I previously hardly and currently grudgingly recognise women’s rights due to male chauvinism

I am dr capitalism, the godfather of isms and schisms

I gave birth to calvinism, fascism, nazism and zionism

I dig globalisation and privatisation not collectivism

I build a racial and class society without egalitarianism

I spread prejudice, injustice and neoliberalism by militarism

I oppose afrocentrism with force, rape and eurocentrism.

 

Questions of a Crying African Child

By Dieketseng “DK” Mosinki (CLC)

 

Africa I am crying

Was I made to cry always?

Africa I am wishing

Was I made to never reach my goals?

Africa I am asking

Was I made to never be heard?

Africa I am hoping

Was I made never to see a better tomorrow?

Africa I am hurting

Was I made to see the spilt blood of my brothers and sisters?

Africa I am afraid

Was I made to live like a slave?

Africa I am suffering Was I made to live like this? Africa I am wondering

Was I made to feel all the pains I feel

Africa I am crying

Crying for the life of African children

Crying crying!

 

The Untitled Poem

By Tshepo Thekiso

Is it the beginning or the end of error

I proclaim voting is our right

But what good has it done for my people and me.

I proclaim my vote like metro rail It’s supposed to take me there, And like Standard Bank,

It’s supposed to be simpler, better, faster.

I proclaim people must not be forgotten. Our freedom must not be suppurated. Too many people have suffered,

Too many people have died.

I proclaim we celebrate democracy, But we have our legends and heroes Like outsurance,

We have to get something out of our rights.

A man who turns blind, when a vision is what the nation needs, He can’t lead us anywhere.

I proclaim people are being exploited beyond recognition

Arm yourself with knowledge, yes, Education that is filled with liberation.

The Land Question: My land, your land, the eviction

By Thabiso Twala

Dit is my land, ek se. Voetsek!

Maar my baas, I’ve been here all of my life.

My father, his father, and his father are buried here.

I grew up on this farm, studied on this farm Dated on this farm, married on this farm. Nou waarheen moet ek gaan, my baas? This is my land, my vaderland.

My father got this farm from his father.

I got this farm from my father.

Dit is my land, my vaderland, die volk se land.

Voetsek ek se, voetsek uit my land ek se.

Maar my baas, how did your grandfather get the land my baas?

Did he buy the land, I ask?

If so, from whom?

Or was he given the land?

If so, by whom?

Or did he steal the land, I ask?

If so, then he stole it from my grandfather, my baas

Therefore this is my land, my baas.

I was born on this land

I tilled the soil, reared chickens and farmed cows.

I rode horses and donkeys on this land.

Voetsek uit my land, ek se. Marike, my skat, bel die polisie asseblief! Kommuniste, kaffir, baboon, apie! Voetsek!

Call the cops, for I don’t care.

They may detain me, torture me, beat me, throw my belongings on the street, Even kill me

But I’m not leaving this land, my baas, For,

As my father ’s grave is here, So shall be mine.

 

Is this Freedom

By Thabiso Twala

Ten years later, I suffer from diseases Ten years later, I have no land of my own. Ten years later, I still use pit toilets,

Ten years later, I still can’t find a job. Ten years later, I’m still paid peanuts,

Ten years later, I’m still evicted from my house. Ten years later, I’m still victimised by the police,

Ten years later, I still can’t afford water and electricity.

Ten years later, I still can’t afford school fees, Ten years later, I’m still victimised as a woman Ten years later, I’m still marginalized as a woman Ten years later, I still walk kilometres to school

Ten years later, the accident of my birth is still a sin.

Ten years later, the union leaders have become bosses, Ten years later, communists are now capitalists.

Ten years later, social movements are now terrorists

Ten years later, the unemployed are now called statistics.

Ten years later, the landless are now squatters on their own land

Ten years later, the west still decides our destiny.

Ten years later, are we really free?

 

Promises

A place of power and glory

For it all began in Africa

The first man, the first woman, the garden of Eden, The great lakes and waterfalls

The great Nile and the great Zambezi The great Limpopo and great Kariba Africa, rise again, and shine ahead.

 

Corruptors of My Land

A new type of colonialism has emerged,

A colonialism of neoliberal policies from the former colonisers.

Africa was robbed and plundered in pre-colonial times

She is now being plundered in postcolonial times.

In pre-colonial times it was done with brutal force as a crucial cause.

In postcolonial times it is done with capitalist policies Leading the onslaught is the International Monetary Fraud And the World Bankruptcy and the WTO

The Bretton Woods triplets of bad influence

In Zambia they can’t even buy staple foods, In Malawi they can’t even buy medicine

This with the collaboration of the criminal African bourgeoisie Whose only aim is self gratification, self enrichment and accumulation These criminals who practice politics of the belly,

That is bribery and extortion

Want to rule Africa for ever. Corruptors and plunderers of my land are back

Those imperialists, disguised as multinational businessmen of repute.

Give me a third term please, vote for a third term, I plead.

This they ask, with bloodthirsty greed

They take no heed, to cash in on the poor once more. The suffering poor must refuse to be driven into a corner For their thirst for self-enrichment is insatiable

Knowing that the third term means more kickbacks

From under the table of imperialists

Becoming corruptors and getting corrupted in the process with no holiness.

After corrupting and plundering, they call Africa the dark continent

With no hope, the black hole

Say that Africans are inherently corrupt and evil, with no shame.

But they learned from us Pythagoras, Archimedes, Socrates and Plato.

They were taught science by the masters from the place they today call “the dark black hole” Aag shame on you, you filthy hyenas

Our scholars from the corner of Timbuktu and Cairo

Taught them all they know

And today they say it is their knowledge.

This neoliberalism is a manner of formalism to deceive our mentality

But no, we are asleep

The African giant is about to rise

To claim her true place in history,

Come and vote for me, he says, and I’ll build you a house.

Another promises:

Come and vote for me, he says, and you will be paid a living wage.

Another promises:

Come and vote for me, he says, and you will get land.

Another promises:

Come and vote for me, he says, and you will get a job.

Another promises:

Come and vote for me, he says, and I’ll build you a clinic.

Another promises:

Come and vote for me, he says, and I’ll construct roads for you.

But I ask:

How can you build me a house, when you lease the land to foreigners?

How can you get me job, when you privatise people’s assets? How can you build me a clinic, when you take my money to Europe? How can you pay me a living wage, when you casualise my labour? Stop your promises, I say

For you can’t fool us all, for long!