Untitled and other poems
i do not know what it is to be enslaved
i do not know what it is to be spat upon by the white man
i do not know what it is to be whipped and chained like an animal
but still, i know what it is to be black.
the black people’s identity does not solely rest upon the fact that we were
scorned and looked down on as niggers.
to be black is to be beautiful and to be proud,
filled with the knowledge that the disdain of others does not lessen you as
a human being.
to be black is to be poetic soul,
filled with music and dance, laughter and joy,
born with natural rhythm and co-ordination that shows itself in the grace
of your movement.
to be black is to be lyrical in gesture and in word,
to have the ability to say volumes with the flick of a wrist, a sideways
glance, or a solitary word.
to be black is to be strong,
to stand tall in the face of hatred and other wrongs,
to never surrender your most passionate and heartfelt beliefs,
to never let the “conquerors” take your soul when they take your possessions.
to be black is to be whole,
to be at peace with the creator,
to share the very essence, and not just the colour, of life-giving earth.
to be black is to be vital,
to be a natural lover, parent, friend,
to be a nourisher and care-giver, and a strong support for others,
to be black is to be alive,
and the black people’s life is not mere existence-
it is force!
Vibratordilemma for fermin and other masculine vermin:
i do not want a man.
not only do i not need one, but i do not want one.
i do not want another immature, insensitive imbecile,
ignorant of my individuality.
what would i want one for?
to invade my space
and try to decorate my sacred place with all his “manly” trappings?
to expect me to comb my hair and make up my face
for his friends to see
his little trophy?
no.
i don’t think so.
i do not want a man.
men friends are fine, limers alright, but i do not want any single man to
think he has a right to me
my time, my love, my life are mine to share as i choose.
i do not want a man to come in and feel that i am obligated to give them up
– only i decide who is worthy.
i do not want a man.
why is it so hard to respect the fact that i am independent by choice?
i am not waiting for mr.right,
so all you self-professed prince charmings can go introduce your pathetic
selves to some other chick.
i love men, but i am not chattel for any ass to think he owns.
i do not want my time monopolized, and my emotions battered and exhausted.
i do not want to be argued with and not apologized to,
or used and left unsatisfied.
i am tired of giving and being unfullfilled, and now i feel like being
selfish.
i want to run around and do my thing without considering a significant other.
so until i say i want a man, all of you licking blood from your lips and
hiding intentions behind your smiles and polishing your manners along with
your gold teeth and bald heads and flexing your gym-designed hardbodies and
dressing in all your brands and flashing your mauby money and driving your
pardner father car and smoking benson to show me you cool and posing and
posturing and feeling you nice and trying to be sweet talking but really
trying my patience and sootin and calling me dahlin like i know you from adam,
can just step off!
i don’t want to be your goodtime girlfriend…
…but anybody know how to mow the grass with a vibrator?
all about B:
heavy breathing will aways remind me of him
pushing his way into my hotel room and throwing me against the wall.
insistent groping hands that pulled and tugged
but never tore because that would have been evidence of my refusal.
the thin wiry body that felt like a little boy’s but acted like a man’s
pressed up against mine and blocked out the room.
someone was crying and begging please don’t
barely above a whisper
but like a scream against silent white walls.
she kept pleading as though she thought someone would care,
or at least hear
and rush in there
to stop him.
she pushed like she thought it would make him let go
but it wasn’t enough.
every time someone gets up in my face
i remember
being shoved down on the bed
with its innocently yielding white sheets
soon to be stained with his semen
and sweat.
why is she still crying and saying please no?
why doesn’t she shut up and realise nothing can be done to stop this from
happening?
be quiet, don’t fight
i promise it will be alright.
make it easy on yourself
act dead and he may only do it once; struggle and his need to dominate
continues.
his nature will push to the limit.
so let go and lie back and hope for it to be over soon.
every time i see little girls and boys playing
it reminds me of a little girl i used to be.
but since that day in my white hotel room
all the smiles are plastic masks
and the laughter is hollow
and i don’t want to play that game anymore.
vote of self confidence (14/9/95)
i am strong
i am built to endure
the powers that be have created me to withstand almost all trials.
they shall not set before me any test to grets for me to survive.
i have been given resources upon which i now draw to handle any situation
with dignity and integrity.
i am only human, but a human is a being with humanity on her side.
so the grasses will grow, the breezes will blow,
and as long as i am, i will know
that i am like evo-stik – built to last.
i will dance with confidence, breathe with ease and take it all in stride,
and my promise to myself,
i will live until i die!
like gold when i’m good, even better when bad,
i’m the best woman you ever had
swing in my hips with my sensual stride,
i walk with my man come high or low tide.
tender and strong all in the same brew
a bitch with a heart and i give it to you
don’t drop it, don’t break it, please handle with care
it’s all i’ve got and your shop don’t sell spares
you have my heart now, and all the rest,
my delicate wrists, frim rounded breasts
the touch of my hands, loving and light
legs wrapped around you in the heat of the night.
comforting arms, most expressive face
mouth that delights to kiss and to taste
hair naturally mine, cheeks can’t help but blush
back arched like instep, pores raised at your touch.
yes this is me, and yes i’m for real
real lovin, real bitching, a real package deal
take me as is if you take me at all
i offer you choice. decide – it’s your call
no pressure, no headache, just take your time
and think what it means to be mine
i know it’s not easy being with me
maybe that’s not where you need to be
cantankerous and difficult and badd to the bone
all my bad habits already etched in stone
uncompromising to say the least
headstring and wilful, temperament: beast
quick rising with heat, enclosed i’ll explode
i always opt for the less travelled road
if ever you need me, seek ye shall find
look where you feel the soul of mankind
follow the music, join in the dance
search in yourself for the joy of romance
only then am i yours and you better believe
once you get with me you won’t want to leave
like a fine wine, once you take a sip
a glass won’t suffice, you’ll want every last drip…
a tentative taste, rich flavour revealed
all hopes confirmed, true faith soon sealed.
elisha efua bartels