Time is but a moment in a capsule …
jazz music told me so
but also insisted that i remember
that it ain’t necessarily so
we’ve drifted in and out
to and fro
the storied shores of love
with music as the sea of reeds
with music as a seed
bearing the living trees
with blood on the leaves
we have seen many visions
conquered in many battles
with love and music
as a spear as well as a shield
with love and music carrying us
we found firm ground
even as we steadied ourselves to take off
in full flight
love music our meditation
our rhythmic blue teacher paying fullest attention
love is incense dispelling the tension
vibrating heartical flame
thawing the chill in the room
a way out of no way
respecting no man
just having its own way
The story of one of Del the Funky Homosapien best album
“But there is no one left to turn on the stars …”
When will the
From Red lipped black books
to cyber-spaced face books
we still dance the minstrel show
paid, underpaid and unpaid slaves
With no intergenerational wealth to show
While my people being
the greater Gods still give away our Powers
we Give until we got nothing for to live
that is ours
– the world the gifts of gab
too few are filling generation gaps
between the perpetual have nots
and the proverbial haves
who among these luminaries and poor liticians give full effect to freedom
works like freeing Mumia Abu Jamar
or Assata, International justice for Lumumba or Sankara?
from red lipped black
books to white pages
blue eyed face books
Our blues are daily painted
grey / our situation will remain in this way
if our powerful ones don’t really sway
the global powerplay
we making minor – major moves
but to white supremacy
its just another office day at the slave market
mark my word and notice
how every rapper boasting about European cars
labels and titty bars
20 years after MC GZA the Genius exposed Hilfiger
are we major?
have we made it?
We stay vainglorious even when we know we haven’t
Who wears the crown and who wears it/
Black excellence is a fact
but how do we celebrate it?
When invisible hands are the ones who fix our stars
and the fault is ours?
from the housed niggers
pitting noble Africans
against the so called pagans
Thats why more often than not I want to throw away the tell-lie-vision
So I can raise daughters and my sons on a good foundation
of Nina Simone, Ayi Kwei Armah, Lupe Fiasco, Sun Ra
And other sound vibrATIONS of the Divine beings we Are.
I recently wrote an almost 5000 word short-story for some lucrative competition. Nervous as I was when I sent it, flaws and all, I was a little proud of it. I had meant to suffuse the whole tale with lots of music, lots of carefully placed images or symbols of Southern Afrikan, Nile Valley symbolism and Time Travel in its plot. If I had access to 300 more words, I could have made it better, but 5000 words is a lot – so no excuses, a short-story should do everything in the first 500 words anyway.
I posted this ‘jazzy’ album because I love the players, it is not related to my story in any way aside from the fact that I love its title. Yesterday I agonised all day about whether I had chosen the right title for the story. Then again, I think whether I win or not, I am going to develop this story into something brilliant.
Lyric by Kurt Elling incorporating “Winter Stars” by Sara Teasdale (Flame and Shadow, 1920)
Afloat and all at sea / the stars align in threes
They’re so fine and free / in blue and in green
Like leaves on endless trees
Come climb the sky with me /
come hear and come to see Melody
in perfect symmetry
/ in love / in light / in key
I went out at night alone;
The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed
to have drenched my spirit’s wings— I bore my sorrow heavily.
But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow,
I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago.
From windows in my father’s house,
Dreaming my dreams on winter nights,
I watched Orion as a boy Above another city’s lights.
Years [a]go, dreams [a]go, and youth goes too,
The world’s heart breaks beneath its wars,
All things are changed, save in the east
The faithful beauty of the stars.
I just love the first song that they have chosen to begin with during the break of this Conversation, its title, “One Day Suffer Go Finish‘, says it all.
Part of Discussion: ‘The distance between how things are and how things should be in Zimbabwe” – ( Man from Chitungwiza)
Having followed the Chimurenga and Chimurenga Chronic publication/movement, for as long as it has existed, part of my ambition as a writer has been to publish some stories or even essays and poems in this auspicious black radical publication. I was also glad when the Pan African Space Station was launched. It basically fused the literature and live Chimurenga music sessions to the whole revolutionary concepts. I could say more, but I am always keenly aware of the data-struggle among my people, not all of we have WiFi and affordable data. So it would be best to listen to this. I must add though, that since coming to live in Zimbabwe recently with my family, the urge to do work in and around Harare is huge. Part of it has to do with the realization of what Chimurenga entails, in its various aspects, but it is also about the texture of the land and the struggles and lives of the people of both Zimbabwe and South Africa. There is lots happening in terms of Art, Violence and Revolutionary possibilities in both these countries, in fact my upcoming book, The House of Plenty is an attempt at making sense of how beauty, strength, wealth and hope and suffering can coexist. We shall also investigate what really keeps Afrikan countries, particularly in the SADC region from developing at apace.