Status Updates From Too Black Too Strong

Sometimes I wanda
Why I and I
A try so hard fe get
Overstood,
Mek we juss get
Afrocentric,
Dark,
Who in space
Who on eart
Who de hell we writing fa?

Sometimes I wanda
Who will translate
Dis
Fe de inglish?

Christmas has been hit by bullets from the west,

Dis is me fatherless, childless. Who do I go to and for what?
Who shall I cry to? Who shall I cry for?
(...)
only poetry gives me life
and nakedness gives me knowledge.
When I cry they want to arrest me, when I’m in
need I’m suspicious, when I cross the road
they ask me why.

Dis is me. I hate dis government as much as I
hated the one before it and I have reason
to believe that I will hate the one to come.

I hav too many poems
About not enough truth
An now I hav a bullet.

We don’t want to die like dis.

An we know that our history will be re-invented
If we do not write truthfully wid de Black pen,

I have learnt that equality
May not mean freedom,
And freedom
May not mean liberation,
You can vote my friend
And have no democracy.
Being together dear neighbour
May not mean unity,
Your oppressors may give you chances
But no opportunities,
And the state that you are in
May have its state security
Yet you may be stateless
Without protection.

What happened to the verse of fire
Cursing cool the empire?