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DREAM OF AMERICA – A Poem
DREAM OF AMERICA
Dream of America
Incongruent with
Visions of America
In the eyes of
Apartheid abused
Brain’ screwed up
South African boychild’s
Long-sighted eyes
Of whom saw
Paradise in America
Through
Township Hollywood bioscopes
Until in adulthood
Seen with eyes from
Best of Europe
21st Century
Shit of America
Spews all-time high
Unhinged idiocy
So brazen
It hits
All fans in the world
Fills up
All wind tunnels of the world
People can’t breathe
It
Shit of America
Hallucinating that
It’s the best of America
The greatest nation on earth
Whilst
It
Shit of America
Mayhems against
Beautiful things
All that is life-supporting
Of progressive thought: truth
Of positive action: science
Of life-enhancing material artifacts: mathematical quantifications objectified
Rendering
African boychild
Half blind
In confusion
In disillusionment
In shame
In fear of
Obliteration of America
From the face of the earth
By its own
Deranged
Pathetic
Shit of America
In adulthood
Rendering new
President of America
Number 46
To
The other day
Ask
A rhetorical question
You don’t have to answer: what is wrong with these people
Alas
Shit of America
So dum
It can make
Neither head nor tail
Of the question
Goes on displaying obtrusively
From
Minute-to-minute
Hour-to-hour
Monday-to-Monday
Unabated
All year round
Live in live eyes fixated
On Live TV
On wide screens
In closed and open domains
Even in palms of our hands
Performances of stupidity in the extreme
In violence
Spewing venomous language
Only possible
In a shithole country
From the deep south
Paul Simon’s melody
Springs forth
Ladysmith Black Mambazo-like voices wail
Somebody says
We are what we eat
What do we shit
We shit what we eat
Shit of America
Eats own shit from
Six-hundred-years-old pit latrines
Embodied in ever insolent
Acts of blood-thirsty racial hate
Rationale of which is
Founded on idiotic
Small-mind games
Throwing a nightmarish shadow
Over just the idea
Of Ivy League universities’ existence
In the land
Crushing ideas of
African boychild’s
Acquisition of
Superior education
As envisaged in the
Dream of America
Ever so paradoxical
With engineering powers to defy gravity
Both in space and in
The belly of the earth
Medical skills taking
Human life existence on earth
To ever higher levels of well being
Consolidating ideas of immortality
Becoming reality
Rattling ideas of God as
The creator and destiny of life upon death
Against
Shit of America
Soiling
Dream of America’s
Glorious creative arts culture
Blurring
Grown up
African boychild’s
Visions of America
Of hope
Of earthly salvation
In a perfect world of
Equality for all
Fraternity for all
Liberty for all
Cream of America
Are my sisters and brothers
My friends
In the land
That
Shit of America
Is ever so fervent
To burn alive
While the world
Friends and foes alike
Watch in dismay
If not with glee
For their differential wishes
Varying intentions
Cream of America
That is my people
Radiates love
As that is
What they live on …
(Continues in the book MACHONA POETRY: Rage and Slam in Tigersburg)
©Simon Chilembo 27/08-202
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
Telephone: +4792525032
September 09, 2021
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PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
I REFUSE – A Poem
Fairytales in My World
Must I look away
From children
In my daily
Living spaces
On 2021 17 May
Norway’s National Day
Show-casing tangible
Children’s worth and joy
In a free world of peace
Whilst other children perish
At this very moment
In ravages of war
In baby Jesus’ world
Where peace is but
A concept in foreign vocabularies
Studied in Military Sciences
At Ivy League universities
Of this world
Jesus was a child of the wind
May be reason why
Nobody cares about
The fate of
Children of the soil
When the missiles rain out there
Must I obliterate myself
From the scene
The moment I hear
Children’s voices
In my proximity
Must I sing
I would rather go blind
Than to see
Children’s eyes on me
In their fields of vision
Fields of play
Must I be
Malignant angel
To a child
Warming my heart
With their purity of emotion
As I sense them
Must I suppress
My paternal instincts
To want to assure
A child that
I want only to
See them happy
Exuberant and free
Must I refrain from
Singing for a child
Dancing for them
Clowning for them
Reaching out
To touch them
For them to feel
The warmth
The honesty
Of my actions
My intentions
Must I ever look over my shoulders
In children’s presence
For fears
Of my actions
My intentions
Being misconstrued
By eyes
Seers of whom
For reasons obtaining
From their own fears
The nature of their lives’ journeys
Has taught them
To see only evil
In the acts of
The joyous
Glowing in the light
Of children
Yet to know
The sentiment of envy
The force of hate
I refuse
‘cause
I don’t know
How not to suffuse
Pure affection profusion
In view of children
I refuse
To succumb
To malicious fairy tales’ pitfalls by
Delusional prejudicial minds
Seeing reality
Through
Diabolic colours-tinted lenses
Tainting my honour
In view of confrontations with
Their own insecurities
In which their design
Their display
My hands
Never had a role to play
Could never want to
Never
Never
Never
On the contrary
My hands sought
Only
To build
Pillars of strength
Towers of power
Alas
In a moment of
Attention gone astray
Monsters were birthed …
(Continues in the book MACHONA POETRY: Rage and Slam in Tigersburg)
©Simon Chilembo 16/05-2021
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
May 30, 2021
RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!
PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
GUILTY AS CHARGED
Savage As Observed
Savage As Observed
The case was as plain
As the death ground was plane
Blatant murder on display
The view as plain
As on a TV on a wall plate
Everywhere News media stream
Global eyes witnessing in dismay
On a day in the month of May
Hands in cuffs arresting pain
Knee on neck effecting killing pain
Pervert’s fingers in pocket aim
To assuage phallic neck
Squeezing head with no shame
World’s emotions ‘n disarray steam
I would have cried in pain
Tears poured out in vain
Lost in torrential rain
Over hostile terrain
Upon which Derek Chauvin
As with his cohorts they train
How to oppress and strain
Black lives again and again
Had George Floyd been slain
For the murderer to retain
Disdain
For people the colour of whom he can’t drain
Whose annihilation he can’t gain
White supremacy ‘s got no brain
Needs a grain
Of justice every step of the way to refrain
From pushing on the race hate train
The latter effort is mundane
No longer can justice entertain
Black hate reign
Rot in jail
Don’t wail
Watch your pomposity wane
Until you are frail
Perish at pace of a snail
Evaporate as water in a pail
In the shade
No space to contain
Your remains
You ain’t arcane
You’re just stupid, plain and vain
No one could sustain
But abstain
From your racist lynching strain
Psychopath immune to pain
Your white privilege ‘s down the drain
Slow death to your deranged brain
Choke in trenches with the hail
I CAN’T BREATHE
Feel how it is
Who feels it knows it
END
©Simon Chilembo 21/04-2021
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
Tel.: +4792525032
April 21, 2021
RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!
PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
MAKE ME WANT TO LOVE AGAIN – A Poem
Keep Singing
Sing on
Baby
Make me
Want to love again
The way
You sing
Your voice
Ignites
Feelings
In my being
Taking me back
In time
To
An evening
In that phase
In time
When
A boy child
Transitions to
Man child
My first love
Took my hand
Urged me
To step along
With her
Into a passage
Where she’d
Teach me
How to know
When I love a woman
She embraced me
The maiden kiss
She gave me
Morphed me
Into
Adult lover man
In a young man’s shell
In an instant
Since then
Only
A certain
Kind of girl
A certain
Kind of woman
Only the
Boy child
In me
Instinctually recognizes
Moves me
Like you do
Keep on singing
I just can’t love
Just anything
Called a girl
Just anything
Called a woman
Mine is
Love discerning
Much as
Yours is
Melody exceptional
As I hear
Your song
Sing on
Baby
Make me
Want to love again
I want to love again
Because
Without love
I have
No reason for living
Without love
I go from day-to-day
Doing all
I have to do
Merely
Out of duty
Breathing
For life
With no passion
Like
Post-inferno ashes
On parched land
In depressed
Climatic states
Of being in nature
Waiting
For the storm
To wash away
Into oblivion
At sea
With
Tumultuous waters
Over barren earth
As I breathe
Dry air
Brittle
Incapacitating
My olfactory system
If I can’t
Sense
The odour of you
In the atmosphere
There can be no love
As to enliven
My immediacy
So
Sing on
Baby
Lubricate my soul
With your song nectar
Make me
Want to love again
As
I inhale deep
Hold my breath
Listen to my heart
Singing along
With you
Pumping
Your song sweetness
Into every cell
Composing the lover in me
In sync
With the love vibrations
You ooze
With your song
In this state
I feel in perfect health
I want to live for
I want to love
Only you
The boy child in me in love
Says to tell
That
For you
We shall live
We shall love
Until
Eternity
Comes knocking
On my door
Sing on
Baby
If it pleases you
Urge me
To step
Into your love corridors
If you love me too
For
I could never ever intrude
Into your love chambers
Yearning for you
Much as I do
Give me your song
Give me hope
Teach me
How you want me
To love you
Like you sing
Like you make love to your song
Only you make me
Want to love again
Sing on
Honey
Baby
END
©Simon Chilembo 05/04-2021
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
Telephone: +4792525032
April 12, 2021
RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!
PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
ALL IN THE HANDS
The Hands Know
It’s all in my hands
I see her
Call her Stella
I clasp the hands
To feel the mutual pull
Of the palm middles
Pulsating onto each other
I get to feel
Balance of
The center of the universe
Heat of
Fire of belly of the earth
That I feel in the hands
Gets my little finger
To twitch
Telling me that
My heart
Is with me
I’m in love
My ring finger
Kicks out
Telling me that
Stella’s wife material
The middle finger
Itches
Telling me that
We have to ensnare her
Into our love kingdom
Knock onto her heaven’s door
Trigger off
Her fires of desire
The index finger points
Straight out at her
To single her out from the rest
Stella sure is the one
By any measure
Better than the rest
She is the one
The thumb’s up
It tells me that
It’s all systems go
It’s now or never
She disappears
Over the horizon yonder
We’ll never see here again
Images of her
Flash in my mind
My hands tremble
Non-stop
I put my hands together
Porcupine quills tingle
My skin
Goosebumps pervade
My body surfaces
From toe-to-finger-to-head
If
I can’t breathe
It’s not for
A man’s knee on my neck
Love sighs for Stella
Take my breath away
My hands get epileptic
I can’t reach out
To touch her
The seizure goes
I fold my arms
Hide my hands
Under my armpits
The warmth soothes me to sleep
I dream
Stella’s back tomorrow
My hands wake me up
END
©Simon Chilembo 22/ 11- 2020
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
March 08, 2021
RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!
PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
THE 500K CASE – A Poem
PANDEMIC FATALITIES
This year 2021
I’ll hit
My second life
500 000 kroners
Fortune mark
Beyond which
I’ll stop counting
As the zeros grow’n’grow
I’ll start kicking creditors
In the butt
Big Daddy
Mr Big Money Maker
Back in town …
…
What you gon’ do
When 500 000 ghosts
Nightmare your sleep
One night at a time
One spectre at a time
When your
500 million dollars creditors
Get on your case
Fight like hell
Want a noose[1]
The Capitol is calling
Save your pennies
END
©Simon Chilembo 14/ 02- 2021
SIMON CHILEMBO
OSLO
NORWAY
TEL.: +4792525032
February 14, 2021
RECOMMENDATION: Do you want to start writing own blog or website? Try WordPress!
FURTHER READING: “List of unproven methods against COVID-19” on Wikipedia.
PS
Order, read, and be inspired by my latest book, Covid-19 and I: Killing Conspiracy Theories.
[1] The Atlantic, It Was Supposed to Be So Much Worse, Godfrey, E, Author, https://bit.ly/3u1IMW7, (accessed 14 February 2021)




