Writers Lounge

All you need is poetry!
Established 1997.

Register now »

Already registered? Sign in here

»the epilogue of venom«

by Moemise Motsepe, October 12, 2006

when the children of our children
hold us to judgement
the currency of our being shall be found in want
invalid and sterile
grim and grey with decay
there on barren grit
africa looking down at his feet
chained, drained and dried to the core
sapped of all essence and worth
left poisoned and septic
and all by choice in the fact

it must have been written across the skies
long long ago when time began
when rivers were too young to flow
a million and more ages ago
long before mountains turned into rocks
of iron memory
it must have been written across and beyond the seven seas
that when lighting strikes across africa?s back
when fire devours our crops
and the sun robs our rivers of their sparkle
africa would seek help from outside her womb
shun the wisdom of her people
spit on the majesty of her age
and so here we are
destined infernally across this vast expanse
of a continent whose heart died long before its birth

i refuse to listen to the wailing now
you and I are victims no more
we are alibis equal in guilt
allies in the affliction of self
we delight in the cracking of the whip
we revel in our flogging
as we scald our skins and twist our tongues
and burn our hair and auction our souls
tussling for foreign praise
pleading and praying for synthetic inclusion
to exist in the throes of irony
and function by proxy with definitions of alien root

we have devoured with a beastly hunger
the slime and rot of hamburger cultures
we have swallowed like swines
the viral filth of coca cola religions
as we celebrate plastic heroes
and to bruise and wound and maim the self
our names come from the seas
our names are emblems of defeat

those who rise in the hereafter
will spit at the memory of our era
repulsed at the shame of our continent
for its addiction to the ways of lesser continents
those who come when we are gone
the children of our children
will curse our tombs and burn our remains
and expel our souls from the land

we shall have gone when the truth is told
shed the flesh
gone gone the way of the dust
those who come to take our place
the children of our children
will tear away their names from our names
when they read how rwanda butchered rwanda
how angola slaughtered angola
and how africa betrayed africa in dafur
in biafra, in sierra leone and in soweto
the children of our children
will pass a verdict torrid and flaming with venom
the epilogue of wrath and rancour
when masks are peeled off layer by layer
and lies are dug out root by root

when the beautiful ones are born
our shame and loss will pass
satanic treaties will be torn to shreds
put to fire and brought to ashes
and the languages that were born of this land
will once again sprout and flourish
and colour the land with the their splendour
when the blue-eyed kingdom of mud is brought to the gravel
we the golden brown
we of the soil
must drink alone from the river nile

and now it is written with fire across the universe
a prophecy engraved on a heart of stone
our dignity returns today
and today is the birth of the beautiful ones
the children of our children shall be born
when Biko rises at first light

beat the drum and tell it to the winds
Bantu Biko lives in your heart

? Moemise Motsepe
7 March 1995

Written: March 1995

The © Copyright to this poem is owned by the author.
Published by writerslounge.net on October 12, 2006 under courtesy of the author.

Reader comments

"The excellence of this poem is why Moemise is one of my favorite poets."
Les Marcott, Feb 22, 2009

Please sign in to post your comment!

More by this author

»Anthem to the gods«

I rise to tell of the glory / that awaits those about whom Sobukwe spoke / the living / the departed and the unborn / the beautiful ones / in whose name this narrative echoes / / I rise to sing an anthem to the gods / the regal / the magnificent / and the epic who rest / but their cause does not / / We  sign in to read more »


»Once I was a god«

The days have gone when I was a god / her article of faith / when I was the king of her nights / and lord of her morning bliss / the days have gone when I was a god / and she a disciple in my arms / the days have gone when I was a god / or so I thought in deluded stupor / because little did I know that in  sign in to read more »


»Galantly the flags billow«

In the season of the beautiful game / at its finest / its grandest ever / gallantly billow the flags on African soil / as nations meet in her south / at a time of peace to wage bloodless combat / as each stakes a quest / to lift the greatest cup of all / the crown for which many will weep / and fewer will  sign in to read more »


This is a non-commercial website to support writers and publish free poetry. Please support our project to keep it alive. Thank you!