There’s a black child (in answer to fanie olivier)
There’s a black child
finding his way with goats through the cliffs
and his hair is blown in the wind
while grasses are braiding galloping around his feet.
He knows of the urge to want more,
how to take with force,
to draw his cross on the ballot paper, to say his say
and his feet walk on a dusty road
and in the dark night some of the tribe
gather around the fires, where spears are being melted
leaders armed with rifles arrive, who talk about plundering
torture and murder
and they are laughing as the war is over,
on what their hands fall they can take,
when suddenly they strike
a shaking white woman is raped
and there’s darkness hanging black over the country,
a darkness that no light can pierce,
with black faces smiling
in a circle around the fire.
[Reference: “by ruacana” (at ruacana) by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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How is possible that dreams here are broken? (in answer to fanie olivier)
How is possible that dreams here are broken,
with life suddenly becoming threatening
with black criminals attacking, sneaking in at doors
and every home is barred like a fortress?
From every alleyway a drug peddler peeps out
or there’s a street whore
that patrols up and down at the corner
and I am just another white Afrikaner
that see my country is falling apart,
I hear shots being fired at the child’s school
where car hijackers suddenly strike
and numerous crimes are being committed
and no crying bird have got to warn me
about the new upside-down existence,
that every strange black man may be a criminal or terrorist
while jobless I worry about bread for my table
and it’s no war zone or the border that I am visiting
but raping robbers strike at the home on the corner
where the police later ineptly
gather with numerous cars.
[Reference: “grensbesoek” (border visit) by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Darkness Ate The Day
I left the light behind and the darkness ate the day,
I stay in the shadows of the night with little regret to say,
The dark is warm like a subtle flame, even the light was never the same
I should be ashamed to say this aloud, but it's easier to say how I am proud
Proud to let the light stay away, proud that the darkness ate the day
For there is little light to fight back, a world that's nothing but black
Black sun, black moon, black night, black day, all the world's that's black will stay,
Stay the way of the night, always straining to destroy the
Light
poem by No Reason To Care
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The expelled farmer (parody)
(with apologies to fanie olivier)
At five to eleven there is thunder slamming down outside,
the winter chill is already cutting through his body.
Now in the folds of the bed he draws the blanket tightly
and look somewhat clinical at how it is flashing outside.
From above everything is washed neatly clean,
there is darkness covering the blue,
while like last night, he does not trust the peace,
being alone in his double bed.
He remembers how it had been
at the farm near to Pongola,
now with stripped grass, overgrazed, used far too much,
with shabby pineapples and he is fed-up,
has had too much of broken houses and poles,
of the joblessness with which the government
is trampling over white people.
The rain flows while he smells new life,
his county is being run into the ground.
[Reference: “retoer” “return trip” by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Spin In The Black Circle
See this needle...a see my hand...
Drop, drop, dropping it down...oh, so gently...
Well here it comes...i touch the plane...
Turn me up...wont turn you away...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...whoa...
Pull it out...a paper sleeve...
Oh, my joy...only you deserve conceit...
Im so big...a-my whole world...
Id rather you...rather you...than her...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...whoa...oh...
Youre so warm...oh, the ritual...when I lay down your crooked arm...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...
Spin the black (5x)circle
Spin the black circle... (4x)
Spin, spin... (6x)
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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Time, For Jim Troy
grains of sand
falling through
our grasping fingers...
a dandelion held
up in the wind,
blown away in a moment.
a collection of photographs,
black and white, some
in color... put away in a box.
the strike of a match,
a quick blaze in the darkness,
lost in the black womb...
of eternity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Shades of Grey
Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare
White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed
Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo
Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Black and White and Red
Black and White
And Red I see
Demons they do
Torture me
Black and White
And Red all day
The voices are real
Or so they say
Black and White
And Red abound
I'm lost I call
I'm never found
Black and White
And Red flow out
I scream but you
Don't hear me shout
Black and White
And Red so bright
Exit blood and
Enter light
Black and White
And Red of death
Now I breathe
My final breath
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Headless Cross
Look through the people, and on through the mist
To the hill of the headless cross
Where all witches meet, on a night such as this
And the power of darkness is host
They come face to face, eye to eye, soul to soul
With and angel that fell from the sky
Borne on the air, the screams and the wails
Of the masses appointed to die
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres been no escape from the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
How do you feel, when the locks refuse the key
And the master is calling your name
Does the luck of the charm, really keep you from harm?
Does the talisman protect you from pain?
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
From the first evil night, when a black flash of light
Cut the crucifix half to the ground
Theres no escaping the power of satan
On a nation so brave and so proud
Listen for the feet as they pound the land to a tune of thunder
Watch as the legions ride again to a fate of death or torture, oh no, oh
At the headless cross, at the headless cross
At the headless cross, oh, at the headless cross
Where will you run to?
At the headless cross
Look, to the headless cross
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black & White
All I see is black & white,
No other color,
The black means dark there shall be no life,
When the darkness is near,
The white means light,
There is still hope in the world,
In my life I only see the darkness,
I see no light in my life,
I have only seen it for only 5 mins,
Then it went straight back to the darkness.
I guess i'm living in the darkness.
poem by Veronica Nieves
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Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
The Dark Night Of The Soul
When we are in the dark night of the soul,
We gasp and flounder within this hole
Of mire and darkness, with no light,
But hark, look up and see the sight,
Of smiling angel faces true.
Holding hands and beckoning you,
To rise above the darkness tight,
Fly and flow, into the light.
Once more to find our love's true end,
As thro' Universe, our footsteps wend.
To free the soul, from darkness black.
Taking us forward, to never look back,
But forward always into the peace,
And joy and calm as horrors cease.
And then we turn and head for home,
Until once more, our steps will roam.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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black as night, Elvyra
Watch out they'll say,
she'll come and get you,
black as night Elvyra,
will take your soul,
leaving you with nothing,
you'll never see another,
as dark and souless as her,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
black as night Elvyra
They'll say she dances,
with the devil,
that she plays with fire,
that black as nite Elvyra,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
look at her they'll say,
how dark with doom and gloom,
black as night elvyra,
look at her face,
pale as pale,
her black lips,
her black eyes too,
you wait and see,
i know what they'll say of me,
Black as night Elvyra
skinny and pale they'll say,
with raven black hair to opose,
Black as night Elvyra,
she knows your secrets,
whispers from your depths,
watch out for me,
you wait and see,
I'm Black as night Elvyra
poem by Jess Terry
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
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The highway man
The wind was howling
and shaking the big oak trees,
and the moon hanged like a sickle
gliding like a ship over the dark sky
and the motorbiker came riding
and the light of his motorbike cut
through the rain and kept him
locked to the stretch of road
that twisted up a hill.
He’d a round black helmet on his head,
a black leather jacket and black boots
and he rode through the weather
to where a light sparkled in the dark
and the girl of his heart was waiting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Amakeia
Protected by the mountains
and covered by bushes
the ruin of an old farmhouse stands,
where the shadow
of the past
still falls heavy and menacing.
Lulling the old black house maid Amakeia
rocked the baby of a white pioneer
softly to sleep
and she was faithful
to her promise,
to try and raise the child.
When she discovered
that danger was sneaking nearer,
she went to hide
in the mountains
with the baby.
As the dark night came
the assegais rattled
against the shields
of a horde of Maxosas,
that jeered like animals
and gathered around the woman and child.
No pleading could stop the blades
where the woman with her body
tried to protect the child
and the wild savage war gang,
speared the woman and child
again and again.
When the winter wind cries in the Amatola cliffs
no devil can still hide there
and the song
of the old woman
cuts right trough marrow and bone,
while she sings
for the child to be silent
and the murder of woman and child
still hits right through
a nation of savages.
[Reference: Amakeia by A.G. Visser. An incident during 1834 war. Assegai = A spear.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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At the Stage Door
Kicking my heels in the street,
Here at the edge of the pavement I wait for you, sweet,
Here in the crowd, the blent noises, blurred lights, of the street.
Under the archway sheer,
Sudden and black as a hole in the placarded wall,
Faces flicker and veer,
Wavering out of the darkness into the light,
Wavering back into night;
Under the archway, suddenly seen, the curls
And thin, bright faces of girls,
Roving eyes, and smiling lips, and the glance
Seeking, finding perchance,
Here at the edge of the pavement, there by the wall,
One face, out of them all.
Steadily, face after face,
Cheeks with the blush of the paint yet lingering, eyes
Still with their circle of black ...
But hers, but hers?
Rose-leaf cheeks, and flower-soft lips, and the grace
Of the vanishing Spring come back,
And a child's heart blithe in the sudden and sweet surprise,
Subtly expectant, that stirs
In the smile of her heart to my heart, of her eyes to my eyes
poem by Arthur Symons
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Dark Circles
Never have I seen anything so clear and promising
As the landscape rolling before my eyes at this moment
Now I see that there is a force I must stop resisting
The readiness to rebuild is becoming more potent
The ashes of what used to be play in the dry wind
And I see a beautiful vision that looks so kind
Dark circles made of ash dance in the air around me
I begin to dance in the beautiful storm and I smile
Why is it that I laugh when there is no light to see?
Why do I dance when I will soon face a testing trial?
There is something exciting and humbling in darkness
From this darkness I will soon find a new grand happiness
In my heart I am feeling the new life. I feel paralyzing
In my mind I am prepared to rebuild. Nothing now stops me
I can feel that soon I will be on top and I’ll be blazing
I can feel that soon I will be revered and I’ll be free
So, why not dance with the swirls of ash so black and dry?
I would rather dance now then continue to hopelessly cry
Dark circles cover me from head to toe!
Dark circles decorate the dead landscape!
Dark circles are flying so high, like my hero!
Dark circles lead me to a grand escape!
Dark circles wrap around me and we fly!
Dark circles! A dance I always wanted to try!
All the ashes mold and form into black angels in the air
They reach out and take my hands and we run
Dark circles cover my eyes and dance through my hair
Dark figures lead me through the darkness to the sun
And in the end of the darkness I see a shining light!
It’s a mirror; it reflects me, a shining light so bright
Dark circles dance around me in celebration of a new birth
They fly high and fall down to create a wind so strong
My face is covered with colors from the burned earth
I do not look like a man. I look like a creature of wrong
I smile and I realize that this is my new territory
Dark circles form a new black castle free of any tragedy!
Dark ashes line the air and the skies!
Dark circles swirl through the land!
Dark circles vibrate with my joyful cries!
Dark circles run along my porcelain hand!
Dark circles shine new light into my life!
Dark circles bring new beauty to my eye…
poem by German Alcala
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Black Curtain
They walk with the black curtain over their faces
They gather others with the pain it leaves behind
The people live in darkness nothing in their minds
Their faces are blank no expresion no feeling
Those who have seen know what it does
Those who know weep in solitude and sorrow
They don't look forward to today or tomorrow
They know everything yet they know nothing
The peoples skin all white and sickened
Their voices a raspy mist
All they look for all they long for is peace and bliss
Their cloths worn and tattered
They know there is no cure
They know there is no hope, no place for them to rest
For they know they will soon be one less
They know there is no cure they know they will rot away
They walk through this aweful place
With dread and dispare
Everyone knows, and try not to stare
Yet it is so hard to sheild your eyes, to hold back the tears
The black curtain lays over their eyes
The cloth that shall never be lifted
For it is too far they have drifted
The curtain falls over their faces
The darkness sets in
They know the time has come for them to leave this place
There is no expresion on their faces
As the curtian and sickness leaves
They will suffer no more
They will go home
And will never be alone
For the curtain is lifted and they are in the light once more
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The other me....
Black angel, dark face
Alive in time and space,
Black angel darkest day
Shall always find the way.
There is this other me
Who lies inside and hide
Comes forth with any fight
And always in the dark of night.
Black angel
Strong and wild,
Black angel
Never mild.
Sleeping in the day
When the sky is blue,
Then shows a dark face
When darkness comes through.
Black angel
Falling sin,
Black angel
All within.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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