When Poetry Is Black (The short Version)

I call upon Dr. Nawal El Saadawi Because of the long war she had fought for Egyptian women I call upon John Luthuli December 1956 he was arrested for treason I call upon Agbani Darego Beauty From the humble beginnings I call upon Wangari Maatai The first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a doctorate degree. I call upon Desmond Tutu Nobel Peace Price 1984 I call upon Nelson Mandela Locked up in his cell during daylight hours --------------------------------------------------- When poetry is black! When POETRY is black!! The reminiscence of inspirational elders, Is the force in which our ink is painted and blessed, The known and know how that mould our hearts which are of gold Is the force in which our master pieces of papers are tomb stoned Recited and told over the years till our souls become ancestral, Liberal and it is that mineral which separates us from the general, To finally identify ourselves in the good news bible, As sons and daughters of the Egyptian slaves. I call upon Dr. Nawal El Saadawi When poetry is black! When POETRY is black!! It stands over, to over stand, never to misunderstand, That been locked down and fed with sand, shall never prophesies the end, It is only a delay, to the forthcoming greatness, It was only a delay, when a foreign man called u upon treason I call upon John Luthuli, I call u upon icons for you are revolutionary, It was only a delay, A sad event that your death was so sudden, But I let know and let it be known that it is your spirit In which our ink is painted and blessed. When Poetry is black! When POETRY is black!! It never forgets the softness and the beauty in which It’s essence is sculptured and evolved The brown and black eyes that sees from a deferent perspective, The curls that define her hair and the lips that kisses with flair It is Agbini Darego which I call upon, The beautiful sunshine giving life to streams of African woman Born under its blue skies, it is only wise To appreciate When poetry is black! When POETRY is black!! I stand on top of the highest mountain and shout! And shout, calling upon the name of Utata, Yes, Who made it possible for me to sit and right this piece, He calls it a rainbow, I call it the future He says it’s liberty, that beyond hatred A golden cup shall quench the thirst of the ultimate freedom. Even this tears, flowing down my face Can never even begin to express That Day, That Day When Poetry was Black!