A
kind arrives in kissing.
A
kind hides in the corner.
A
kind stomps through a tall, split house.
A
kind is written careful in blood.
A
kind blows cold through bones.
A
kind unwinds in your lap.
A
kind objects to any reference to the past.
A
kind wishes it were kinder to you.
A
kind winds wool around its finger.
A
kind kills the light in every room and weeps.
A
kind crams letters into a metal bucket.
A
kind gives birth to a club-footed babe.
A
kind doesn't care if you return.
A
kind washes your hair in a sink.
A
kind loosens the noose.
A
kind wills us to forget.
A
kind disappears into dust.
A
kind can’t listen to your sobbing.
A
kind is signed on the dotted line.
A
kind is undressing for you tonight.
A
kind is madder than you knew.
A
kind is begging for a coin.
A
kind wants you to answer.
A
kind is sleeping on your couch.
A
kind won’t kiss you.
A kind calls it mother.
A kind climbs tall trees.
A kind is drenched in sunlight.
A kind is on its knees,
Praying for you.
MISTAKEN TO SAY//Thomas
Green
It is mistaken to say
Mzungu mzungu like I hear from many
a child
I am reduced to a color or race so
it seems.
Whatever the color or whatever my
race
I am a person, an individual
Don’t you see?
See the mistake that we
all so often make
Lumping each one to a given class
color or cast
Mzungu, Mswahili, Mwarabu, or
Massai and so forth
We are who we are and that we be.
My origins are my father’s
And my mother’s in turn
Together they made what is now
The part of me visible to you.
But t’is I who have made what there
is of that me just now.
I have made that man that you see.
But on my outer edges you view a
reflection
Of my mom and of my dad’s genes of
course
But Inside you see the story that’s
me
The real and true discernable me.
Take some time and examine and
source
And maybe you will finally see
I am not just an Mzungu,
but I am the one and true essence
of me.
Swahili Swahili, and so that you
may be,
Judge people not from the cover
alone
Like a book you should read
For it is what’s inside that counts
Cover to cover inside each and
every one
One and all a distinct and special
book.
THE HUMAN CONDITION// Renee Jaine
Mistakes are the human condition
Literally, not metaphorically
Humans -
arguably the pinnacle of evolution
actually the biggest mutants of them all.
Mankind is just a messy mixed up blueprint:
"Let's . . build an amoeba
No, wait, something more complex
Let's make it bigger
Less hairy
Take off the tail
Okay . . . done"
And this is the human condition too
We plan.
We have intentions and ambitions.
If we never aimed at anything,
we would never miss.
Do amoebas make mistakes?
Do apes?
Mistakes are the human condition
Literally, not metaphorically
Humans -
arguably the pinnacle of evolution
actually the biggest mutants of them all.
Mankind is just a messy mixed up blueprint:
"Let's . . build an amoeba
No, wait, something more complex
Let's make it bigger
Less hairy
Take off the tail
Okay . . . done"
And this is the human condition too
We plan.
We have intentions and ambitions.
If we never aimed at anything,
we would never miss.
Do amoebas make mistakes?
Do apes?
REPORTER KILLED IN COLD
BLOOD, KIGOMA (as reported in The Citizen http://www.thecitizen.co.tz/news/-/28098-reporter-killed-in-cold-blood)
Amanda Leigh Lichtenstein
Pastoralist Paulo
Is said to have eaten parts
Of his shepherd’s body.
Susuruka the shepherd
Survived and told a reporter,
Who was later found dead:
Was shot in the arm
Neglected in a forest,
Hand gun and two mobiles
Found nearby. They say
He was murdered
For telling the shepherd’s
tale,
Forcing Pastoralist Paulo
To face charges.
Do you mind me asking:
How did the shepherd
survive?
Which parts were eaten?
Were there words
exchanged?
What did Paulo do to
convince
The killer of his deed?
Where is Pastoralist Paulo
now
And who loves him still?
What of his glassy-eyed
sheep
Who follow without rage?
If Jesus himself was a
shepherd,
Was Paulo attempting to
eat god?
Is Paulo’s shepherd still
roaming?
Tell me, angels and
citizens,
Who can digest this news,
Wash it down with
disbelief
And get on with it, the
day I mean,
Of all us wandering
humans,
eating, killing, grazing
In the wild, rolling
fields.
