Back from the Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit
Idioma: inglés
Editorial: Trafford, 2014
- Tapa blanda
- Nuevo

Librería: California Books, Miami, FL, Estados Unidos de AmericaCalifornia Books
Vendedor de AbeBooks desde el 27 de octubre de 2023
Condición: Nuevo
EUR 14,53
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Añadir al carritoN° de ref. del artículo I-9781490731995
- Título
- Back from the Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit
- Autor
- Mahlaba, Knox
- Editorial
- Trafford
- Año de publicación
- 2014
- Estado
- New
- Encuadernación
- Encuadernación de tapa blanda
- Idioma
- inglés
- ISBN 10
- 1490731997
- ISBN 13
- 9781490731995
“Sinopsis” puede pertenecer a otra edición de este título.
Fragmento. © Reproducción autorizada. Todos los derechos reservados.
Back from the DEAD
The Rising of an African Spirit
By KNOX MAHLABATrafford Publishing
All rights reserved.
Curse of ages
Confounding the bearer of news
A messenger without an audience
Like a stream without a delta
Flowing into a tributary
Paying tribute to unknown influences
Studying identified sources
An eye witness to an eye sore
A people torn apart by imaginary differences
Opting to remain silent
Wiping the tears from my eyes
Drying the despair of a people
A curse of ages
A curse placed on a chosen few
The audience ungrateful
Floating like a bottled letter
The message lost at sea
Though the coast is rough
Waiting for the sea to purge itself of foreign debris
Cast the bottle against monstrous rock faces
Shatter the glass ceiling
Toss the message onto the shore
Children dying of hunger
Toy soldiers lying on battle fields
The fields mined with explosives
Mines secured by foreign forces
Our gold lying in Fort Knox
The miners dying
Everybody looking away
Our standing on a downward spiral
Our continent raped whilst we watch
Whilst we pretend not to see, hear no evil!
Though eyes cannot talk
They say so much
Lesson in loyalty
Expensive like a private education
Home schooling away from home
A classroom of bandits
Everybody searching for gold
Panning for substance
Embroiled in substance abuse
The trip very short
The journey too long
Every kilometre away
Every hour a lesson
Learning to be loyal to me
Sharing a desk
Accommodating others
Ignoring personal circumstances
Loyal to the common purpose
Purposefully using each other for personal gain
Portraying loyalty
Duty bound by a pact
Between us
Me, myself and I
Between heart and mind
Body and soul heavenly property
Being there for someone else
Me someone else
Held together at the seams by a notion
Pretence will do
State property, save for loyalty
A sense of belonging so crucial
More important than the air we breathe
Held together by belonging
My loyalties lying somewhere else
Belonging anywhere but here
My Property
Falling on my sword
My property
Embracing reality
So pragmatic
So hectic
Like falling on a sword
Failing to believe
Losing belief
Even faith in your only truly possession
My property a liability
Eating away at my assets
Like a pandemic
An academic subject
Looking back unpredictable
Research a different perspective
Everything laid bare
Exposed so thoroughly
Beached like a whale
Stab wound after stab wound
Dressed in a thick skin
Bearing old scars
My property
Nature's indulgence
Falling on a sword
So foreign
Assegai's stab the enemy
Swords kill important ways
Standing away from a fight foreign
So crucial
Principles are like swords
Trying to hold onto my assegai
Kilimanjaro
A snow-capped mountain on the Equator
Standing apart, standing alone
Africa's greatest mountain
Created by quiet rumblings from beneath
The Rift Valley scarring the surface
Shaping the landscape
The fractures below invisible
The divisions above clear
A people divided
Apportioned by foreign forces
The people apportioning blame
Having a mountain to climb
Very few reach the apex
A few die trying
Having a purpose
Arriving at the summit
Africa's greatest mountain to climb
Standing next to each other too often
Never standing together
Pockets of myopia found all over the place
None standing apart
Stand on principle together
Deep markings of dissatisfaction painted with blood
The way down pulling us down
Too many standing below the summit
Too afraid to meet a challenge
Climb Kilimanjaro
It's our mountain after all
Continental plates cracking below
Splitting apart above
Resembling a shattered windscreen
The pieces mighty together
Futile apart
The climb treacherous
Having my own mountain to climb
Gathering my thoughts
Becoming together
Collecting myself
Connecting myself
The people remember
The apex beside the point
Doing it together the point
Pulling each other upwards
Collect ourselves
Gather ourselves
Remember who we are
Kilimanjaro standing witness
A mountain of greatness
Giving life a purpose
Remember Africa!
Bottled Letter
When a bottled letter washes onto your shore
Your eyes light up
Curiosity invites you to remove the cork
Anticipating the contents
Wondering about the recipient
Empathising with the author
A sailor in distress
Sending out an SOS for his soul
Reading a message not intended for you
Like perusing a diary of the dearly departed
A reading of a last will and testament
Though shameful and intrusive
It's only natural
Envy compels you to break protocol
Yet you'll never open a sealed envelope
Will I ever receive such a letter
An affirmation of compassion
A cry for me
I too would love to drink from this well
Though we conquer the oceans seeking treasure
None can compare to love
Watching the waves come and go
Watching sailors embrace their loved ones for one last time
Waiting for my bottled letter
Dying to quench my thirst
Drink from Cupid's spring
There's nothing better than love
A duet from beyond the grave
Luther and Gregory were so right
Kings have abdicated thrones for a sip of love
Some have gone to war
To secure their heart's desire
I too would throw away a crown
An empire for that matter
A foolish thought I know
Yet there's nothing better than love
Nothing you say, can sway me
Yearning for the other half of my heart
The last piece of a puzzle
A life lived without an attempt to fill your heart's content
No matter how futile the attempt
Is a wasted life
Double or nothing I say
JFK's eternal flame still burns
In Jackie's heart!
I am a Khafre
I've been called by many a name
Childhood nicknames
Family pet names
Apparently what I call myself immaterial
Others choosing to christen me as they choose
Forced to carry a foreign name
A name alien to my culture
Bear the load of an unwanted name
Given many such names
Some do not appear in any documentation
Aliases used behind my back
Boy, Nigger, Thug
Inspired by The Champ
Like Kunta Kente
Forsaking his slave name
Opting for a chosen identity
Embracing his heritage
Ali the Great
King of the Rumble in the Jungle
Chanting Ali, Ali, Ali
Turning my back on Confirmation
My apologies to The Pope
The Vatican can do without another convert
I don't want another unwanted name
Aiding and abetting Kwame Ture
Killing Stokely Carmichael
Lynching Cassius Clay
Burying Dona Richards
Forsaking all my unwanted names
Deemed a kaffir,
aka kafir
Forgive me
For raising such a thorny subject
It's been piercing my heart for years
My people insulted, denigrated
Being black 'n beautiful
Their only crime
Subtle connotations
Houseboy, Sambo, natives,
Harsh expletives, obscenities, cuss words
Negro, kaffer
Unknowingly anointing me
Biko said I was Black
Sobukwe called me an African
Mbeki broke it down for me
Rasta calls me King
Inspired by others too
John Carlos, Tommie Smith
In the summer of '68
Taking gold and silver
Making an important statement
Reminding us
Individual glory doesn't supersede the struggle
Surprised by others like me
How they embrace their unwanted names
Embracing my unwanted name
For I do not believe in foreign notions
God was always here
There's no need to mail order His presence
No longer disputing their claim
For I am an unbeliever in their eyes
In their version of history
In their concoction of religion
Witnessing the birth of Africa within me
Listening to the marimba drums beating from within
I am a descendent of Khafre
Son of Khufu
The fourth King of the Fourth Dynasty
The Great King of Egypt
Commissioner of Pyramids
Yet all they see is just another kaffir
They say the pyramids were built by aliens
Yet all the statues look like Michael Jackson
Their noses falling off
Broken off
To conceal evidence of their blackness
Their likeness to me
Renaming myself
Retaining my naming rights
Reclaiming my identity
Embracing who I am
Who I choose to be
Decorating their paper gold with images from Kemet
Destroying libraries of African documentation
Under the guise of an Arab Spring
Maybe I am an alien
'Cos I resemble the people who built the pyramids
I do not entertain what they say about us
Let alone what they will say about me
My lineage is Khoi and San
Dashed with Bantu soul
I am an African
A son of the soil
Creator of my dynasty
Architect of my legacy
I am a Khafre!
Groove Dynamics
Erupting with feeling
Feelings from where
Yesterday's mudslide
An avalanche so overwhelming
The lava flowing
Burning a soul
Fortifying the core
The earth a womb
From where that is the problem
Earthly feelings basking
Calming torrents
Waves of confusion
Born with a birthmark
A heavenly choice
Choosing a certain way
Chosen by whom
So much like the earth
A dark shade of earth
Watching my own birth
Falling down a black hole
The surroundings a reflection
Making my mark
Brick by brick
Marking a making
Doing what the earth wants
Under duress!
Listening to the force of nature
The Spotlight
When the time comes
Events fall into place
Scenes colouring an image
Dreams just yesterday
And the day before
The world choosing to meet you halfway
'Cos no matter how vivid
Images out do dreams
Different from reality too
When the time arrives
Images match reality
Every moment seamless
Feeling bigger than I am
Larger than star
A damn constellation
When the time arrives
Dreams come true
Flowers blossom in winter
Robins sing soprano
The rain drizzles softly
Whilst the sun bares all
Leaving me to bask in the spotlight
Polishing my shade of black
Hogging the spotlight
When the time arrives
Faith stays
Doubt departs
Staying true to myself
Caught Forever
(A tribute to Nelson Mandela)
Escaping tradition
Running away from responsibility
Only to be caught
By a greater responsibility
Chiselled by a quarry
Bathed in salty water
Seasoned by kelp
Banished to an island
Never forgetting
No man is an island
Even royalty
Heeding a calling
Caught forever
The trap Sisulu's making
Tightened by Tambo
The nation falling onto the safety net
Thank you Tata
For clenching your fist
Hoisting it in defiance
Shouting at the top of your voice
"Amandla!"
Thank you Madiba
For taking your gloves off
Raising your hand
Volunteer #1
And taking up arms
Against domination in whatever form
Fighting for freedom of the individual
Defeating fear
Reconciling opposing poles
Only a boxer
Could outflank the status quo
Sip tea with a pariah
Lift the Webb Ellis trophy
Scoring a goal for the people of the south
You're a striker
Umkhonto We Sizwe
Dankie san'!
Siyabonga!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Back from the DEAD by KNOX MAHLABA. Copyright © 2014 Knox Mahlaba. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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