Nobody’s female embracing her crown

Fiercely guarding her identity

That’s why she got the resting b***h face

Attacked enough times to have her on guard night and day

So let her hair speak to you

She let’s it be her identity

Very few ever have the courage to anyway

Comes with being WOKE!!!


What is “Konya Shamsrumi”? It is a new African Poetry Publishing House — Richard Ali’s Blog


Konya Shamsrumi? Four weeks ago, Kechi Nomu, Umar Abubakar Sidi, Funmi Gaji, Rasaq Malik Gbolahan and I quietly launched a new project, a publishing house called Konya Shamsrumi. We had formed ourselves into the KSR Collective, and you might have seen the hashtag #KSRCollectivehere and there. Konya Shamsrumi is a poetry publishing house. Our dream is, simple, to— 1. Create great […]

via What is “Konya Shamsrumi”? It is a new African Poetry Publishing House — Richard Ali’s Blog

I feel him coming



There is no wood to our flame

so we are in a trance

deceived to receive whichever illusion we conjure up

“let’s be helplessly in love for the week

black entertainment at it’s best

solve problems;

solve mentalities

I can look in your direction

Don’t mean I see you

I can pay attention

Don’t mean I hear you

by the rising sun, definitely cannot afford to

kiss kiss lip prints.


Hey I’m Bandz



meet me at Cramer’s

I am not a huger

I do not know you and I do not wish to make you comfortable by embracing you awkwardly

It was so much simpler when I was shorter and an embrace meant having my face stuffed into aunties’ bossom

And you hear her reassuringly heart beat for those stretched out seconds

Awkward but genuine

They either don’t hug like that or they don’t make aunties that way no more

I don’t know you, I don’t want you like that close to my heartbeat

Then pick up on its irregularities

You don’t deserve to know me like that

It beats so because I entrusted it to another who has not returned to live with the consequences of how he has loved me

Shaped my heart so irregular

I don’t rhyme and I don’t entertain

Do you think I belong anywhere near your showmanship?

They call it dark poetry, I just pen down my reality

I am most vulnerable when I am on stage

As I deliver my bastard baby to conformed minds

So what now, entertain you with my pain

Sounds like I am seeking your approval

Like if it don’t move you it ain’t good

I am always uncomfortably on the edge

I plant seeds that grow uncertainties of whether or not you will see me alive again

But the stage is the only place where I get them to just listen

Not judge, just listen

Do not judge my cuts

Fresh or old, educate yourself in ways to fight the stigma against us

I am not my cuts

I wouldn’t have them heal for the world

They remind me there was a time

When pain was a living, tangible shadow

That successfully harassed me

I successfully erased it

I am alive warrior, listen, but the shadow gets stronger for the next loner

Fine! Don;t use my words but please just get the message to them

They are not alone, there is still hope

Thank you for your time, I will take my organic ice-cream to go.






I am not your voice

I am your emotions

Feel me, feed me

I’m like a cancer, I’ll consume

It’s my art

I’ll consume you

It’s the vibrations

I’ll consume you

Its the goosebumps I give you

When I liberate you

Because you simpleton need crutches

To tumble and fall to realise you’re beyond approval

I’ll be your clown, your art

Deep down I consume you

Be blessed with the courage

To face you, to be consumed by the art in you

Don’t be me, be the you in me

Gather up and reflect the energies

Clear skies, clean air

Fundamentals that consume the universe that you are

I’ll consume you till we’re big enough to fight the bad vibrations

I can’t heal you


You’re bleeding deep and slow

Only visible when that liquor hits your lips

Those are wounds my soul can’t reach

So I’ll sit next to you and share the silence

I’m planting little seeds of love just so the flowers bloom for you some day one day some where

And then the sun will shine once again.

Mango life


IMG_20180114_180142Home sweet home

Completion, fulfillment! Never been more further away

I came to bury my old skin

Been shedding and emancipated quite a bit since you last shunned me

If it is any consolation I still cry alone

I just get up faster and stronger

Tales of a loner who isn’t lonely

Flew to confirm what I already knew

That home clips my wings

But I start licking my wounds on my road trip to more misadventures

I love you, for all the pain you remind of

I still love you…soaked in scents that awake the burried

I flip through old photographs

My heart just screams out to the past

“Listen, take more pictures, smile more, say more

That’s all you will leave me with, yes you leave,

Unintended, but that doesn’t comfort my fatherless childhood!”

I haven’t forgotten about you

It’s just you are who I was, not who I will be

I will come back when the storm of life settles

Just enough for our souls to see each other again.




That sip before inhaling


I’m leaving whilst you burning the midnight oil

The only time I know you forget everything else except that flicker

I’m not snicking out either

I’d rather just laze around in the aftermath

And get fat with my sister

Because somethings you said left an after taste

You know belittling my struggles

What do you know about not knowing

If anyone disagrees they are not worth your attention thereafter

So I get ready for the encore chorus

Clap with me if you feel it in your existence

Repeat after me you unconventional tea lovers

“We won’t let you take away the scars

They define me

They remind me 

They mirror our daily affirmations

Our religion,our blend

So no, we won’t let you take away these scars

My struggle, my pain, my victory

You don’t get to take away my victories”

And I put down my remote-mic 

And continue my packing

My departure is part of my tying loose ends.

The adventures with Gogo Dihwa under the tree of nostalgia


One day when it’s all gone to waste;

My courage,my free spirit,my strong will

I will fly home with eagerness to Gogo’s bosoms

So one day we can wake up just when the sun makes us good to sleep again

That’s when it still feels like it’s regenerating our skin and not looking to bestow a bout of cancer

Whilst eating mealie meal porridge

Under the tree with dried out leaves

I’ll be inquisitive like my six year old self

She always loved how I would patiently listen as she unpacked preciously tugged away memories of the adventures of raising Amai

She loved talking about all of her children

I don’t know about now though

They’re all dead and we are both weary beings

I no longer worship Amai and she doesn’t hear me so well anymore

It is increasingly more difficult to unpack

They aren’t just memories

It’s the only place my uncles and aunts are still alive

In the purest form

Her angel ghosts

Haunting but not in an overbearing way

But assurance that a reunion is a sure thing coming

I think when I finally get to embrace Gogo Dihwa

And sit under the dried out tree of nostalgia

I’ll ask more about her adventures to becoming my beloved grandmother

Who knows, maybe her adventures

Can unlock my misadventures, the missing element

My campus has no north

I find comfort in the idea that feeling like my six year old self

Might rid me of adulting

For a precious few hours.

Beautiful truths


I miss you

In the kind of way I miss needing you

Too many nights piling up

Where I find ways to sleep without you

I miss the fear of losing you

It kept me warm when the distance sighed crusty cold up my spine

Too many days to count

I miss the illusions I built us on

You don’t understand me

And I lack the need to confide 

I’ve adapted, like my niece on hot days

I miss longing to hear your voice

Missed calls don’t surprise me anymore

What I’ve always wanted to say on the midnight missed calls:

“Are you good?” I ask so you can ask me too

because you’re the one person I want to ask after my well being

Not the routine greetings

I mean the conversations under the sky

About what’s really going on behind my resting face

I miss these conversations we’ve never had

All in the name of life happening

I miss you

The way I miss being vulnerable around you.