The detention of peace

For the next 10 weeks I will be embarking on a new series of 10 short poems (5-10 lines). Each poem will deal with a different topic that is relevant to today’s world. I hope you enjoy.

The detention of peace

Where can doves soar

except upon request to us

who chain them?

Where can olive trees sprout

except on appeal to us

who pot and consume their seeds?

Anthem for Black Empowerment

This extract from Bob Marley’s Redemption Song sums up this poem nicely: ‘‘Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery…’’

Anthem for Black Empowerment

I shouldn’t be here

In this space of surrender

where every street

and avenue seems

shut to advancement

and opportunity.

Has the Black Man not left

that defeated place

where our wrists were bound

in shackles of racism and slavery?

Have we not scaled the convoluted

road to political and cultural power?

Still a defeated logic holds us back

not in Jim Crow and the lynching South

of old

but in degraded projects and police captivity

of now.

But just as God’s love remains

so too does the faith that once sealed up minds

and corridors will be shattered and like the Israelites

we’ll walk at last into the promise land.

To be young now

There are times when I thank God I grew up in the 2000’s. There is so much happening.

To be young now

I won’t with modesty say I’m not a spectator

In the stadium of passing, changing times.

I’ve seen risen and fallen powers, personalities,

regimes and even the White House become

 as dark as Belgium’s bitter-sweet delicacy.

To be young now time warps me

back to the days of Spring ’68,

to a world under the strain

of social defiance and change.

To be young now…




Sounds as stirring as Dylan’s protest song:

‘‘The times they are a-changin’…’’

Generational Curses

Too often we accuse the past of being responsible for our present problems instead of getting our heads down and working to solve them.

Generational Curses

 I was once told to just blame

this generation’s current issues

on generations that came before.

History, I was told, has handed

us the baton of cross-era curses,

troubles transferred from parent to offspring.

I imagine tomorrow’s inhabitants

will soon blame their tribulations on us too,

unless we exorcise our current demons,

hushing the roaring blaze of maturing woes

in the cleansing rainstorm of forgiveness;

with sociopolitical redemption