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Mbizo Chirasha
Nacionalidad:
Zimbabwe
E-mail:
girlchildcreativity@gmail.com
Pertenece a la Directiva
Biografia

Mbizo Chirasha

Vice President Poets Of The World in Africa

MBIZO CHIRASHA is a Recipient of Global Literary Influencer Certificate of Merit by Directorio Mundial de Escritores through Academia Mundial de Literatura, Historia, Arte y Cultura (2018). Recipient of PEN Deutschland Exiled Writer Grant (2017) Literary Arts Projects Curator, Writer in Residence, Blogs Publisher, Arts for Human Rights/Peace Activism Catalyst, Social Media Publicist and Internationally Anthologized Writer. Inaugural International Fellow (literary activism) of the International Human Rights Arts Festival Exiled in Africa New York (2019). Recipient of the EU- Horn of Africa Defend Human Rights Defenders Protection Fund (2017). Resident Curator of 100 Thousand Poets for Peace-Zimbabwe. Originator of Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Movement. African Contributor to the Table of Words Demer Press International Poetry anthology edited by Hannie Rouweler in Netherlands (2018-2019). Solidarity Member of Global Alliance for Politics and Arts (2017). African Participant to the 2014-2020 World Poetry Almanac Anthologies series in Mongolia edited by Hadaa Sendoo( 2015-2020). Co-Editor of German Africa Bilingual Collection (http://www.street-voice.de/SV7/SVissue7.html). with German International Translator Andreas Weiland (2016) .

Young Zimbabwean Literary Delegate to the Goteborg International Book Fair Sweden (2003 presented at Nordic Africa institute, Swedish Writers union, SIDA Diplomatic luncheon , Radio Dialogue , Swedish International library Association , Sweden National Education Summit).Jury Member of the International Images Film Festival (2013-2014). Artist in Residence of the Shungunamutitima International Film Festival (2015).

Poet in residence of ICACD International Conference of Africa Culture and Development courtesy of African Culture Development Institute (2009) . Participant of UNESCO Photo Novel Intensive  Training( Tanzania and France 2009).Founder of the GirlchildCreativity Project ( 2010) The African Drums Poetry Festival ( 2007).The Young Writers Caravan( 2004)  Curator of MIOMBOPUBLISHING, miombopublishing.wordpress.com and PERSONALITIES OF INSPIRATION,

personalitiesofinspiration.wordpress.com.

www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mbizo_Chirasha

 

Kalinga- linga

A daughter of revolution fed on rich political nutrition
With a smile bandaging scars of the streets and falsehood by political demons
Fingers burnt in pseudo democratic pans of the West, what a political humor
I see you smelling love through the thick dew of corruption and robots
True heroes and heroines swallowed up in the deep silence of chingwere and uzambwera

 

Black Oranges

Xenophobia my son
i hear a murmur in the streets
a babble of adjoining markets
your conscience itching with guiltiness like
genital leprosy
your wide eyes are cups where tears
never fall
when they fall the storm wash down bullet drains
and garbage cities
come nomzano with your whisper to drown, 
blood scent stinking the rainbow altar
darfur, petals of blood spreading, 
perfume of death choking slum nostrils
slums laden with acrid smell of mud and
debri smelling like fresh dung heaps
fear scrawling like lizards on Darfur skin
kibera, i see you scratching your mind like ragged linen
smelling the breath of slums and diesel fumes
the smoke puffing out through ghetto ruins is the fire dousing the
emblem of the state
belly of Zambezi ache with crocodile and fish
villages piled like heaps of potatoes against the flank
of eastern hills
farmlands dripping golden dripping dew
sunshine choking with vulgar mornings
dawns yawning with vendetta filled redemption songs
drums of freedom sounding fainter and fainter, blowing away in the wind
when streets rub their sleep out of their eyes
villagers scratch painful living from the
infertile patches of sand on this earth whose lungs
heave with copper and veins bleeding gold
ghetto buttocks sit over poverty, kalinga-linga
corruption eating breakfast with ministers, kabulonga
with shrill cries of children breaking against city walls
shire river tonight your voice rustled dry, like the scratching of old silk
Politicians grow everywhere like weeds
land of ngwazi, yesterday crocodiles breakfasted on flesh
owls and birds sang with designated protocol
ngwazi your cough drowned laughters and prayers
your breath silenced rivers and jungles
Mozambique
the belief and gift of my poetry
sweat wine poured to absent, long forgotten gods and goddesses
soft kiss spent on golden virgins before they aged into toothless grannies
the rhythm of samora
heartbeat of chimurenga
drumbeat of chissano
today mornings blight in corruption
a social anorexia
Abuja guns eat you more than disease
I loved you before you absorbed poverty as sponge
soaking out water
before rats chewed your roof
before you conceived men with borrowed names and totems
ghost of abacha guzzling drums of blood and gallons of oil
wiwa chasing shadows of babangida past delta of treasures
Buganda cruelty is a natural weapon of a dictator
poor lives buried under rubbles of autocracy
pregnant mothers with eyes gouged out by bullets, pushing their guts
back into their bellies
luanda
a roar of old trucks
a whine of motor cycles
a rumble of dead engines
America frying its fingers in oil pans of your kitchen
where Europe fry, America roast
Angola, if you cough, America catch a fever
angola quench my parched lungs with a spoon of oil
i see the naked thighs of your desert hills
Barotseland Setswana
a servant positioned with trust
American green bloomed your desert shrubs
your loyalty is sold to she who offers the next meal
Barotseland of seretse
Somalia
your lips burnt brown with exposure of rough diet
you are muffled voice, cursed and drowned into deep silence
the smell of aged incense and stale coffee
a tune piped by the shepherd on moutainside, only
to be half heard by and quickly forgotten by villagers
Ghana
the anthill of black seed
coast blessed with gold
once a young girl full of sap and strength
once perfumed with richness and sacredness
you shared your salt and sweat fro freedom
today you a like a woman who sleep with a pillow
between her legs anticipating a miracle of man
coast of ivory
i see faces tight as skin of drum in moonlight
ivory coast, once the smoke and smell of human excitement
tonight bullet burrow into your belly like rats into sacks
of Thai rice
you are the broken pot we patch to put on shelf again.
flesh of children roasting in your belly, Darfur. 

 

Dawn Rising

see many voices rising with the sun
sharp spears of the sun, undulating with coming freedom
mother was there during liberation
i will be there for the other liberation
a revolution of million voices
voices of children of song
children of the soil
children unborn, children born

voices of hunger in the gutters
voices in memory of those gone by the wind of madness
voices of vendors whose tomatoes squashed in days raids
voices whose taxes perished on talk tables
voices riddled by sanctions
voices roasted by imperialism

one million voices
from a country whose spirit is chimurenga
whose breath is nehanda
whose scent is the mist of matopos
voices of freedom coming
voices tired of honey coated promises

i am one of voices freed by my poetic words
drinking from poetic grape fruit
born with sugar and salt words on my tongue
i am mother Africa raving metaphors
i am a slave of my verbal bravado

iam singer of africa untold
iam the blak poet
the bread of revolution
the rose blooming liberation
million voices sing me a song
i dedicate this satire to you.

 

I am  a night mare

My breasts are dry of milk in the climate of this heat
My earth ejaculates platinum and uranium
anus of my rock puff pure gas and crude oil
The clay of my heart binds together the dust of my dreams
Forests of my mind sagging with coco beans and coconuts

I am tired of bullet and paparazzi gossip
I am a country eating peanut and bananas
I am the flower of want, whose bloom was pruned by madness,
Whose holy nectar was imbibed by mad drunkards?
I am a night mare, poets and prophets bring back my wildness


I am Congo 11


I am Congo, with my cough riddled voice
I am Congo i see my children bewitched by the wizard of Nile
I am Congo whose clans are foot mats of war gods and goddesses from the east and the west
Iam Congo with emerald in my blood and diamond in my stomach
I drink my tears with triplets’ kayole, kwangware and kiberia,
We ate our stolen coco beans with
Ivory Coast and gold coast
When will chairman Mao, Samora,Neto amilcar of this  earth of  stolen diamonds and dried
Peanuts, that we write our history in blood, sand and granite
Shaping the ideology of generations and the dreams that we eat the eggs of uhuru
And see the dimples of freedom smiling.

 

 

Desarrollado por: Asesorias Web
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