We Africans by Wayne Visser

I was listening to a track by the Nigerian legendary musician, Fela, and one of his phrases caught my attention - "we Africans" - two simple words that mean so much. I was inspired to write this poem.

We Africans

By Wayne Visser

We Africans

We, the spark of creation

We, first nation of nations

Remember us

For you flow from our ancestral streams

And your hopes are what mirror our dreams

We Africans

We, the crossers of high seas

We, the keepers of memories

Remember us

For you pulse with the blood of our veins

And you cry with the fear of our pains

We’re born, we rise

We open our eyes

We crawl, we walk

We’re learning to talk

We Africans

We, the fathers of hungry hands

We, the mothers of thirsty lands

Join with us

For your toil is sweat on our furrowed brow

And your guilt is shame for our here and now

We Africans

We, the sons of rusty chains

We, the daughters of dried-up rains

Join with us

For your suffering leaves tears in our eyes

And your great escape is our freedom’s rise

We plant, we reap

We strive, we weep

We serve, we slave

We hope, we brave

We Africans

We, the farmers of the plains

We, the hunters of the rains

Stand with us

For your food is our planted gorge

And your iron is our fiery forge

We Africans

We, the nomads of the sand

We, the stewards of the land

Stand with us

For your drink is our handpicked beans

And your wealth is our tunnelled seams

We dig, we drill

We bend our will

We melt, we mould

We bleed for gold

We Africans

We, the soldiers of the thorny cross

We, the seekers of the pantheons lost

Rise with us

For your chapels enact our daily sacraments

And your deities fill our starry firmaments

We Africans

We, the pilgrims of the crescent moon

We, the students of our earthly swoon

Rise with us

For your mosques echo our calls to prayer

And your mission is our promise to care

We kneel, we pray

We sing, we slay

We lift our pain

We praise His name

We Africans

We, the singers of life’s sorrow

We, the lovers of tomorrow

Reunite us

For your maps are our patterned mosaic

And your home is our ancient namesake

We Africans

We, the dancers of our freedoms

We, the voices of new seasons

Reunite us

For your culture is our rainbow display

And your genes are our twined DNA

We drum, we beat

We stamp our feet

We weave, we thread

We love, we wed

We Africans

We, the refugees of futile fighting

We, the tribes of lands uniting

Welcome us

For as you gain so we have lost

And what we give is without cost

We Africans

We, the migrants of opportunity

We, the leaders of the fair and free

Welcome us

For as we join as fragile friends

So we prosper in the end

We move, we tread

We search, we spread

We fit, we fight

We claim our right

We Africans

We, the archers of the starry sky

We, the askers of the question why

Celebrate with us

For the dawn is strung with morning dew

And our time has come to start anew

We Africans

We, the scatterlings of the rising sun

We, all proud Africans, every one

Celebrate with us

For our future fate is far from done

And we are all Africans, every one

Copyright 2012 Wayne Visser

African Idea by Wayne Visser

Just back from Lagos - my fifth trip to Nigeria in the past 12 months. Got me thinking about how Africa is as much a product of perception and imagination as fact and reality.

AFRICAN IDEA

By Wayne Visser

Africa wakes –

It boils and bubbles

It stews and steams

Swathed and swaddled

In wisps of melting mists

And the feathered blue skies

Of my inner eyes

This Africa –

Drenched in sun and sorrow

Stretched in time and place

Bridging north and south

Cleaving tribe from tribe

Birthing a prodigal progeny –

Alive in my mind

Africa moves –

It spawns and spews

It morphs and multiplies

Enhanced and entangled

In human chains of need greed

And white lightning webs

Of synapses firing

This Africa –

Shadowed in war and want

Bursting with light and longing

Dancing dust clouds around fires

Beating drum songs of desires

Endlessly en-route –

On my famished road

Africa sleeps –

It drifts and disperses

It seeds and suckles

Soothed and silent

In fields of ripening toil

And the wandering blotch-herds

Of scattered thoughts

This Africa –

Whispered in myths and mysteries

Cradling its loves and losses

Chanting with hope and defiance

Hawking praise and prophecy

Woven in patchwork tales –

Echoed in my prose

But is Africa real?

This Africa of mind and magic

This Africa of dreams and dust

This luminous continent

Glowing in the dark interior

Of my gold-threaded caves –

This Africa of my psyche

Is Africa fact?

This Africa of books and bards

This Africa of fables and fiction

This luscious land mass

Teeming with the wild life

Of my untamed frontiers –

This Africa of my stories

Is Africa true?

This Africa of tongue and touch

This Africa of nose and noise

This muddled melting pot

Spicing the pallid palette

Of my doldrum days –

This Africa of my senses

Yes! Africa lives –

Africa breathes and beats and blooms

Africa strives and thrives and jives

Africa shakes and aches and breaks

Africa weeps and rises and leaps

Africa sings and soars on the wings

Of my imagination

This is Africa

This is my Africa

This is my Africa imagined

This is my imaginary Africa

This is my image of Africa

This is my idea of Africa

This is my African idea

Copyright 2012 Wayne Visser

Letters to Myself... "Politically Concious"

My black nails,
Sing of wails that fail,
Because of an attachment,
So unattractive,
That fills me with pain,
In my blood vessels that pump with strain,
That burgundy liquid through scarlet flesh,
Through to my limp heart,
That fills with that pain,
From black nails,
That sing wails that fail.

Innocent fetus I have been,
But saved I have been,
For some it is not the same,
For some,
It is innocent fetus that has not been,
Aborted clear of the world,
I have breathed life,
An air of filth,
But I have breathed life,
I have been blessed to see love of a mother so destroyed,
But I have seen love,
With their slings they sting,
My spine whose strength I walk,
Through hills and valleys,
On land,
In the sea,
In space,
In my dreams,
My spine that enables me to bring,
The pennies of my sweaty brow,
The pennies of my swollen feet,
The pennies of my broken heart.

For longer than you and I know,
They have held the arrow and bow,
From their black nails like mine, they crow,
Like white masters that left so long ago,
We grieve over unfruitful seeds we sew,
That have been stolen right in front of our door,
And the thief has hands that are sore,
Possessed by greed and absent of compassion,
They threw it away and it landed on the floor,
Right in front of our door.

Do you love me now?
I am neither rich nor poor,
I am nothing in need of a cure,
Do you love me now?

Kavosa Assava

Letters to myself…To be who I am To who I am not.

If I could fit at the top of a mountain line,

I would seat and watch the world intertwine,

As people whined and sighed over life's unforgiving signs,

I would seat and watch as they intertwined,

As people burst in the confusion and twirled in inconclusive illusions,

I would seat and watch as they intertwined.

I wish so desperately for seconds in a day to be alone,

To remind myself of what I am in my soul,

For confinement in my mind rediscovering that person sole....LY,

Never letting go of what I have been told,

To chew and swallow all that the world throws,

Whether hot or cold.

Because around all these demons,

You forget your cute little ribbons

of innocence, that transform into little horns,

Of deceit,

Numerous characters of you you have built,

To paint little mirages of deceit,

Numerous tongues you have slipped,

Little words of deceit,

To deceive the demons,

But you only deceive yourself.

You are who you are when alone,

Unbathed by flowery scented oils that mask your odour,

Untouched by airs beyond your vacuum that blow away your delicate leaves,

So if I could seat at the top of a mountain line,

I would sing with the birds,

Breath with the trees,

Fly with the clouds,

For we would be who we really are

Seize the Day: Favourite Inspirational Poems by Wayne Visser

I'm delighted to announce that my new book of poems is out on Kindle (download the free app to read on PC/any device). Here's the blurb ...

SEIZE THE DAY: FAVOURITE INSPIRATIONAL POEMS

This unique collection brings together inspirational poems by South African poet and writer, Wayne Visser. The anthology includes many old favourites like "Poets Must Be" and "Horrendus Camena", as well as brand new poems like "The Writer" and "Seize the Day":

Sages through the ages wisely say:

Carpe Diem – seize the dawning day!

Oh, would that I could assuage that thirst

But the day conspires to seize me first!

Buy it now for little more than the price of a cup of coffee at:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Seize-Day-Favourite-Inspirational-ebook/dp/B0060LLHUA/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1320266601&sr=1-4

Shine, Africa, Shine! by Wayne Visser

SHINE, AFRICA, SHINE!

By Wayne Visser

I. The Dark Continent

Africa – the dark continent:

So named by explorers

Because the candle of their knowledge

Was feeble and flickering;

Because their ignorance

Was a void of deep space.

Africa – the dark continent:

So named by conquerors

Because the torch of their mission

Was sordid and smoking;

Because their prejudice

Was a cave of grey ghouls.

Africa – the dark continent:

So named by scholars

Because the lamp of their enquiry

Was paltry and passing;

Because their theories

Were coded in white and black.

II. Enemies Of The Sun

Africa is the continent of light,

But there are enemies of the sun:

Despots who snuff out flames,

Gangsters who skulk in caverns

And traders who deal in darkness.

Africa is the continent of light,

But there are crevices of shade:

Valleys where black blood flows,

Corridors where corruption festers

And markets where slavery sells.

Africa is the continent of light,

But there is darkness, it is true:

For every beam casts its shadow,

Every sun has its eclipse

And there is no day without night.

III. The Day of Dawning

Yet Africa’s day is dawning,

So let those who talk of shadows

Bring their light to bear;

And those who proclaim darkness

Open their eyes wide.

Africa’s day is dawning,

So let those who feed the night

Find themselves cold and hungry;

And those who steal the light

Find themselves alone and imprisoned.

Africa’s day is dawning,

So let those who pedal black fear

Discover the beauty of sunrise;

And those who dwell in tunnels

Find their inner flame.

IV. The Land Of Sunshine

Africa is the land of sunshine

Where topaz skies stretch out

From here-now to forever

And each scarlet sunrise

Renews faith, hope and life.

Africa is the hearth of firelight

Where dancing flames leap up

For distant starry dreams

And glowing orange embers

Warm the hands of friendship.

Africa is the pot of rainbows

Where every pregnant storm cloud

Crackles with electricity

And each shroud of grey mist

Shimmers iridescent.

V. The Shining Continent

So shine, Africa, shine!

Nourish our shared earth

And feed our common roots;

Green our tree of life

And bear sweet fruits of peace.

Shine, Africa, shine!

Spark our imagination

And confound us with your brilliance;

Flame our deepest desires

And dazzle us with your colours.

Shine, Africa, shine!

Fire our greatest passions

And empower us with your stories;

Blaze brightly on our soul quest

And inspire us with your light.

Copyright 2011

Lagos Lives, by Wayne Visser

Written after a recent (and first) visit to Nigeria.

Lagos Lives

By Wayne Visser

Lagos lives

Seeding and sprawling

Steaming and smoking

Grasping at the shoreline

Gasping at the skyline

Clinging to its oil-slicked ropes

And singing of its toil-stripped hopes

Praise be!

To the God who sets His people free

To the fiery preacher on TV

To the Sunday throng that still believe

Praise be!

To the beggar and the banker

To the fisher and the swanker

To the struggler and the smuggler

Praise be!

Lagos breathes

Coughing and crooning

Swaggering and swooning

Shouting at the winners

Flouting all the sinners

Unleashing hope with soaring psalms

And greasing all the outstretched palms

Praise be!

To the Son who died upon the tree

To the light that makes the blind to see

To the ear that hears each prayerful plea

Praise be!

To the leaders and the bleeders

To the hackers and the slackers

To the hopers and the jokers

Praise be!

Lagos moves

Churning and chugging

Squirming and slugging

Jamming on the highways

Cramming in the byways

Convulsing to the market mob

And pulsing to the Fela throb

Praise be!

To the Ghost who lit the flame in thee

To the Word of heavenly decree

To the Three in One and One in Three

Praise be!

To the movers and the shakers

To the moguls and the fakers

To the dealers and the healers

Praise be!

Lagos lives

And breathes

And moves

To a rhythm of its own

To an ancient mystic poem

To a purpose yet unknown

Lagos moves

And breathes

And lives.

Copyright 2011