Posted in poetry, spoken word

Blank Canvas

what is it that you perceive?
What is it that you see yourself to be?
Questions
Questions
Black and white was your dream,
filled with sorrow and desolation.
Faint and faded pictures, a recollection of what digs within your wounds the most.
The two colors adding insult to injury
Cemented to memory are the ghosts that haunt your every thought.
And comes along He, Master of all Sovereign who introduced the rainbow to the weeping skies.

A box of twelve choices and paths filling over the vivid images of your pain as He paints skillfully over the plains of your porcelain skin
Lashing and laping at all blemishes your past lain upon the temple He birth from soil.
As the brush wipes away your tears only to remind you that He is still here with you when all hope seems to dwindles.
Restoring the crimson pumping organ to breath you back to life with His Fatherlike carrasses.
As you are His child, precious, a jew you are.
Carved from the finest of stone.
so why, his most prized possession do you let them throw ash and gunk at your canvas?
12 colors of the rainbow He has bestowed upon you with such love and hope,
Its only in your right to make a masterpiece.

Foolish are you to judge your beauty within the eyes of another
For in those eyes you never will truly BE.

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Posted in poetry

STOP MAKING EXCUSES

Im trying to come up with a few words
In difficulty do we realize
At the end of the day the pain does not compliment the outcome,
Now does it?
We use excuses to make ourselves miserable
How vain!!!
They say “no pain, no gain”
“its just what people do”
We can not have a minute to breathe
Oh no how dare we? Let’s sacrifice that too.

You fight for nothing and give up everything for ephemeral encounters that fade with the stars when morning light shows its presence.
There are problems to be solved, mouths to be fed, deadlines to be met, exams to be written and goals to be checked yet we do NOT realise life is filled and florished with such same demises come a new dawn. You run away not from your problem you create more dark, dangerous and deadly monsters within your viewpoint.

you would be a fool to believe the more pain you inflict in disguise of sacrifice for a brighter tomorrow, the lesser your problems become because as the sun rises over the horizon so do more problems and excuses
Stop giving excuses to be miserable to save someone else
You do not have to sacrifice to be happy because
You are worth every breath you take

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Posted in poetry

My Table

Maybe I’ve said a little too much, my words know no bounds as my ink knows no end and my books know no climax. It has become a norm of unending rains.

Maybe I’ve bled a little too loud, with age I have come to understand that dancing in the rain will do me more harm than good, I won’t find a knight in shining armor waiting to sweep me off my feet!

No!

that’s Cinderella not me, what I would find however, is just another dreaded visit to the doctors office leaving a dent in my pocket. I’d rather not try.

No happily ever afters, it seems the story has not even began and yet here I am to vent and complain about how hard it has been, how many sores and scars it have painted on my canvas.

Time and time again, you give to the world all you’ve got.

when you start, you have the strength of a thousand bulls, faith of a mastered seed, you have drive, to which the world will swallow hole and tell you “hey! Work harder you aren’t doing enough”

Aren’t doing enough?

I feel as though I’m doing more than my plate should take.

I am doing the best I can, if your single minded stuck up ego can not appreciate what I bring to the table

I don’t belong to your table. I think it’s high time I build my own and save myself the embarrassment of being on yours! This time I get to pick what is out on it and it’s me who will dictate who shall be on it. My table is not build for everyone because not everyone will go to the deep with me. And everyone sees what I see up ahead.

My table that you will not be apart of, will be anything but what you’ve deemed fit. Society won’t approve of a woman’s table but hey who needs them anyway. Their lost within themselves and so have you lost your way.

Be calm, you’ve made your bed

now you shall sleep in it.

For in my mind, I’ve learnt now I’m ready to strive and conquer on my table which knows no bounds or constrain

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Posted in poetry

•••Within her mind•••

Cradled in her arms, is her heart, her heart which knows no end, her heart which has been revived over and over and over but still it yearns to give more and receive less than deserved.

It’s the tears and wails of sadness it emits from dust till dawn leaving her unable to breath, to forget the torments and thorns prying her mind till she breaks down to shambles.

Within her mind, are horrors you could not fathom, a dark void of desolation.

Within her mind, are words thrown to torture, strain and break her.

Within her mind, are doors, hidden within are snakes, a new breed, a new devil unheard of he calls you friend, sister, lover.

He lures you in with his dashing smiles and hoax concern, he moves closer and when you least expect he strangles you with his face unveiled.

It hits hard but the lesson is harder and the result is the hardest.

Because, within her mind

All who came close were roses that drew blood.

Within her mind was a kiss softer than a bated heart.

~•Kudzai Chidamba P•~

Posted in poetry

•••My black, my pride•••

My black, my pride

Skin bathed in lashes of the suns assault, scotched, bruised, bold, a discovery, untainted.

Eyes holding earth herself, an endless sea of color bleeding unending down the flat planes of her cheek.

But alas,

So rich, engraved in your deep browns are the songs of her eloquent strides as she demands attention. To which she deserves, unquestionably

My black, my pride

Just as kind, she strives to conquer with her head in the wind her luscious strands, coiled and curled to perfection, I see no fault. So precious an overcomer! Your words wound her not.

My black, my pride

A lion in its awake, you dare not displease, for her bite is malice than her roar.

Convince me otherwise, I dare you!

Her beauty unheard of, her eyes enticing, you’ve lost your will to fight her.

So seductive a temptress

My black, my pride

Celebrate it? Your choice

Imitate it? Granted

Denigrate it? Your head

However,

My black is my pride

Kudzai P. Chidamba

Posted in poetry

A friend in need is a friend indeed

Helping one person might not change the whole world, but it could change the world for one person.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/urgent-funding-for-15-yr-old-with-aplastic-anemia?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link-tip&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

Please let’s show our love for humanity, We rise by helping others overcome their hurdles.

Please share and repost, your help is needed

This might be your calling

Please tag and share with everyone out there

Thank you, stay safe and God bless!!!❤️✨

Posted in poetry

Masked and unscented

The name glowed inside my mind like paper lanterns spread out across a dark blue sky.

The whirling whispers of the wind can be heard against the cold veil of night.

My head is spinning with unanswered questions,

That feeling returns,

The feeling i resent most,

The feeling where salty clear anguish pushes its way out of my dark brown orbs.

Only the harsh kisses of the sun, lapping and licking at my bare skin with its fierce flames will blur my vision,

And cloud my irises with unshed acid,

making them glow and glaze over,

A resemblance of pitch black demise.

My heart is drowning in unanguished emotions,

Heartbreaking,

Like the careful undressing of the moon.

Longer i remain reminiscing over their songs of profanities,

Aiming daggers laced with bitter liquid,

As its scent lingers too long,

He shalln’t forget its bitter kisses and assaults.

Leaving my mouth agape,

My words stumble.

Wishing yet not wishing that the blackish waters of my soul swallow me whole.

Negative thoughts so powerful

I’m almost on my buckled knees.

My eyes brimming with unshed tears of disarray as screams and pleas of help surround me.

Unable to respond,

To those who hold my heart,

As my screams,

the wind shall swallow,

as i turn back and face the beast while it stirs awake within.

Born from depression,

Fed by anger.

My poem,

All dark and gaping jaws of a fury inferno as it pours down my face like an unending rain.

But how does a depressed person write a happy poem?

How does a dejected tongue absorb the saccharine and duliet tang of joviality?

In the shadows of sorrow,

Unfathomed,

The pain of this earth,

My heart shall take no more.

I declare,

I shall stay,

Masked and unscented,

For all that is good and resented.

I hope my pain you consider.

☆~Iamthebonafidescholar~☆

Posted in poetry

Sambo

image

A name,
A description, 
A discrimination,
They shall place you in Roads.
An insult to what’s left of our veins.

We were born not of our choosing,
But our luck,
We are black people.

In their eyes 
Storm clouds we stand to be,
Stares of judgement,
Holding hatred and disgust alike.

But look at them,
Their skin as soft as a roses kiss on a winters night,
Do not be frittled,
After all,
not all that glitters is gold.
Because when you grow closer,
It will draw blood and triumph in your pain.

Sambo,
To use us,
Then punish for not a fault we have committed,
Who do you think you are?

Dear child,
You see wrong in the way i look,

You see wrong in the way may hair falls not below my waist.

You see wrong in the way my skin shines underneath the blazing kisses of the sun.

To me nothing could ever be more right.

So listen to me
And the words that i speak, 
For i promise they come from the heavens.

When God was creating his imperfect baby,
He made her with beauties that most can not fathom.

The African child,
We will stand for it no longer,
the criticism.
You strip us of our rights?
Where has your Humanity betaken to?
Your ways i shall not take to heart for that is not who i was raised to be. I come from overcomes, a true definition of strength.

I am the African child
Proud and now free!
Never have i asked for your opinions 
Nor do your assumptions hold value.
Please do bite your tongue
This is just food for thought.

image

~The_Bona-Fide.Scholar

#Blacklivesmatter

But let’s not forget,

#Alllivesmatter

Posted in poetry

Amai(Mother) as a question.

♧…•¤•《 AMAI? 》•¤•…♧

image

A gentle breeze that whispers sweet roundelays as dawn falls.

I’m looking for a way,
A way that i could best portray the perfect picture,

No words i could ink down upon this paper could ever describe the perfect creature we call Amai.
Alike the phoenix, Amai ends with beginnings. She keeps the planet spinning, bare and untainted.

Her child hangs onto her flawless porcelain skin, bathed and oozing in lashes of the suns assaults for only she provides the love and tender care well deserved. Her love shines through Her dark orbs, you dare not question. With her child caged within her wings, you shalln’t enter.

For her child,
she will become the angel Uriel, strong and divine. 
Evil that lerks beware, Bestowed upon Amai is the angel of Michael, 
for heavens saidth she is the protector and Defender you wish not cross her path.

I travelled far and wide but still i fall short, 
for no Wiseman could stand and explain AMAI. 

This woman rare and fair, blessed are those who respect her for T’is the only command with a promise of eternal life. the woman with multiple names,
tender and loving with Christ as her example. Even He, 
the Son of God, 
all mighty and powerful was birthed by Amai. What could be more precious?

So kind an overcome, 
she who looks onto your tomorrow not caring if her mouth has been fed, for her happiness lies in her child.
At times Amai is gullible but still rules with an iron fist to keep you in check,
Far from the path of evil and hands tainted in dark crimson.

You, 
her most prized possession,
The heavens are jealous, knows not what she does to keep you well and fed.

All those words i have scribed but still, 
they are nothing near full of what she is and what her child holds in her heart.

Amai,
a mystery i wish one day to understand though i know by heart i yearn for what could have been, but seizes to exist,
the true meaning of *Amai*.

I dare leave a question, you can never answer…

Amai(Mother)?

Kudzai P. Chidamba
☆~☆

Posted in poetry

Black, silenced in blood

Black, silenced in blood.

image

Still waters run deep,
The oaths of a woman i inscribed on soil.

How vain without the merit is the name.
This word does not frighten the man who, 
in acting feels no fear.
Black, 
silenced in blood.

How sweet for those faring badly to forget their misfortunes even for a glimpse. 
Alas, 
how quickly the gratitude owed the dead flows off, 
how quick to be proved a deceiver.  
But, 
cruel was my master for in his eyes those of mine who lived were nothing but images or insubstantial shadows,
nothing more than phantoms or weightless souls. 
Hell was empty, 
and all the devils dwell here.
Fed by fear,
Driven by sadism, 
Lust for, 
blacks,
silenced in death.

Pools of whirling liquid escape my glance as they roll down the planes of my cheek, 
My hunger, insolent!
And will be fed. 
If it were possible to cure evils lamentation and to raise the dead with tears, 
then gold would be less valuable than weeping.

Lash, 
he kills a man
Then another,
and another, 
an endless sea of bodies.
Crimson drips my gaze, 
Fair is foul and foul is fair,
Hover through the fog and filthy air.
As dusk falls, 
we gather arms two friends, two bodies,
with one souls inspired!

Lust for knee-less mens tears. Nehanda called out through the winds “all a mans’ affairs become diseased when he wishes to cure evils with evils,
If so all is disgusting when a man leaves his own nature and does what is unfit, 
this a true saying amongst ancestors, 
the gifts of enemies are no gifts and profit-less,
child know your roots,
i beg,”
i turn unto her, 
” the wise, dont you know that silence supports the accusers’ charge?
Evil counsel travels fast yet again foolishness is indeed the sister of wickedness,
Tonight i shall have the devils head and banish him back to hell where he shall be welcomed home. 

If we are to keep our democracy, there must be one commandment,
‘Thou shalt not ration justice’.
No more black blood,
Too i am flesh,
Mistake not our silence for weakness. 
He will learn the value of black blood!
Now as i draw my last breath,
I pray Heavens feel thy pain,
Send it to my children, 
let them repay my death, 
My last crimson tear,
holds only them dear.

Take not for granted the world you live,
for blood,
sweat and tears were shed, lakes to fill your morrow.
My legacy i left,
Now you uphold the victory

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~Reign
iamthebonafidescholar…