Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!


Black ness
Soulful ness
Thick lipped
Full hipped
Big thighs
Nose wide
Looking like raw gold
Found in the mines in South Africa
A rarity that can't be explained
The darkness, the features
The walk, the dialect
So many want to be us
But can't
This black thing
More than just skin deep
Black is an atmosphere
Of cosmic arrays
Black is the clay
Made by the Ancient of Days
Hair textured like cotton
That was picked by slaves
Black is a taste
That can't be explained
Sort of like sweet potato pie
Sorta not
Sort of like collards
With sauce to make them hot
Black is a look
Like looking down to the bottom of reefs
Full of fish and corral
Full of so much of black mystery
Black is a sound
Like the sound of a young girl's sass
Sounds of birds in flight
Flying back home of generations past
Black is a touch
Like a blind person reading brail
Using just the fingertips
Like God's winds blowing sails
Never to be duplicated
Only to be imitated
Unknown and too complicated
Not being able to be initiated
Swishing to that sound
Of talking drums
Looking like diamonds
That have yet to be found
Smelling like orchids that haven't been discovered
The rarest of ones
We are those unlike no others
Protect your rarity
Teach it to your young
Remind them that fore fathers died
So that freedom songs could be sung
Stay black
Love yourself, black
Don't forget, black
Look ahead, black
Worship God, black
Forgive, black
Reach, black
Achieve, black
Don't let anyone hold you back

Written by Mama Mickey


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge