Handle With Care

Handle with care
Caress and massage
With lips and tongue
Let love bites
Be language
So you can intimately
Write how your body
Seems like poetry
Written by Gods...
Canvas of melanin
Soaked skin
Framed by curves
That can only induce
Sin..
It's a sin not to be comfortable in such beauty
Not to embrace a sight
That leaves
Time frozen
In a gorgeous haze...

Handle with care
Hold with soul
And mind
Undress you with
Heart spoken emotions
So that your nakedness would embrace me
I'd let the soft spoken touches
Play to the rhythm
Of your heart beats,
Get lost in the curves of your body and
Feel earthquakes and heavy rain on your inner
Thighs when
Climaxes lead to rainy days
With thunder sounding more
Like enticing ways
To not silence empty rooms with screams
I mean thunders would sound more like your moans.....

Handle with care
Because she is a goddess
She weighs
Heavy burdens
With her skin..
Her body is unforgiving
To the eyes
But her body frame just holds gold.

Handle with care because there is no other gift other
Than a body like this, that suits
The mind
And deserves the title empress..
Knees weaken in your presence
And appreciation should be written in your skin in brail
So my hands would constantly
Run up and down your body
To learn the meaning of
 this word...

-K.Phiri

I WILL SPEAK

I will walk the talk but
levitate to your next thoughts
I will speak the truth
that makes you uncomfortable
nothing will justify
your head hanging low
and soft spoken voice
Like the words
"You will never be good enough"
they broke you
the made you feel like your prayers to God are his burden
his undeniable reason to hate humans
but I hate Gods more than humans
Gods
are selfish egotistical species
they live of praise
and ruin lives
without a second thought
all for a greater cause.
I will not apologize
for what I said
until a God
can look at a mothers tear ruined
eyes and hold her gaze
and say
"I killed your baby boy for a greater good and a beautiful reason"
I make such mistakes
Allow me to be a human and not a God

-K-Phiri

Dear skin
don't attract hate speech
learn to curse your melanin for
bearing the colour that provokes them

don't provoke them
even with your hands in the air
it still scares them
so let their bullets kiss you
so that you can lay still
on the ground
like your ancestor's title deed
thrown on the ground
because the slave master
decided to be kind
and give you back something that was yours...
your life

in the blood of our ancestors i write
let your death
be back payment
for letting them go as your slave masters
i mean masters
centuries spent as being
their slave and
now that we are free
we still owe them
like our black bodies
used till death weren't enough

air
sucked into nostril
pushed down to lungs
"I can't breathe"
sounds like a threat to them
like asking for your life
makes you to much of a menace
to society
so rather die

so you can live through posters and shirts
let your name be spoken
when debate is made why black  lives matter


live



broken are the souls
of mothers
who lost their black children
to systems
that make the act of
taking their son's and daughters life's legal....

Images: Google images

Video: The Soweto Uprising NHD

 

coffee sips

are easier to swallow

then the truth..

a boy who used

your emotions

for target practice

is no fool

to be fooled by the thought of love..

a hazy scent

of coffee beans

romanticizes

the reality of being alone

with your thoughts...

silence becomes louder

every moment you wreck yourself with

the memories

of your past coffee dates

with the boy who held 

you like a coffee mug and

sipped your thoughts

like you were coffee glazed with star dust....

he often reminded you that you were

like a moment of falling stars

seen by virgin big black eyes

in the darkest of nights

when you were comfortable

being surrounded by all his blackness...

time was relative

when his hugs became descriptive

forms of saying "mon amour, je vraiment vous manquer"...

he was black coffee, 

strong and bitter to the tongue 

you liked the thought of that

but he was never really your taste

but you lied to your heart

and told it that overtime

his heartbreaking streak would be an acquired taste...

but he wouldn't be around 

long enough

For you to learn black coffee

Does not give you

A sweet daze…

It's only uneasy to swallow

Like truth that the boy

Of shinning

Armour never really loved you.

You were just target practice

A thing to past time with 

as he sipped coffee

And made you feel like the summer time craze

-K.Phiri

Our hand holds were symmetry
a frail synergy
a fragility considered thee to be the poster child for struggles
and anguish...
ambiguities declined
your inclined right
to imagine your own reality
but tonight
you are the  guest star
of a jazz club  hazed up by cigar smoke
and sensual music in the air
so thick it felt like
sex was in the air,
so hot and sticky...
moving bodies were not
declining a possible
symphonic orchestra of
dance move greetings
meant for you
and welcomed by your feet
the beats were so smooth
The Roots would dare
to try adopt these sounds

Greetings will be done with a smile
and conversation will be kept to a minimum as music will
speak for us
Alcohol would co-write
our thought for the stories that will be played
out for tonight
tonight will be beautiful
and remembered not
through freeze frames and instagram shots and
pouted lips
no,
your subconscious mind
will whisper the memories of this night
to your conscious mind
and flashbacks will be your dreams

Capture memories with still images - K.Phiri

Photos by \Kabelo Phiri and Kgotatso Motshane

Feels...

Red lips
pale skin
willow trees
and dead skin
life into death
flesh to soil








be insignificant and become dust with me
transform air into soul and breathe with me
slow and beautiful like summer's sunset
change my seasons and let ice crawl onto my branches
and be my winter

hurricanes or sandstorms

couldn't be blow me 

away like your thoughts do

let Samba de Gafieira be our new poetry we

write with synchronized body movements

and happy feet

as mas que nada plays us into the next morning

our memories will fight to keep

be my morning after my midnight conversation
hold me like cold hands learn to hold coffee mugs
and let lips flirt with mugs
as slow sips 
remind us of our fist kiss