I Will Kill God

before I see my Black Babies dead.
Black men and White men
and those toxic White bitches
who called me sister,
do not understand.

They are God.

I would be happy to slit their throats--to
crush their evil heads in the toilet.
To place my babies on my pretty
brown back
And sail into the sunset.

I would be like a goddess.
I would be nappy and smiling.
I would be tall and dark as charcoal.
I would be singing.
I would be free.

Free at last.

To make up my own prayers.

*Taken from the classic book, "Nile River Woman"

                   "Sharm el-Sheikh"
            (an exclusive seaside resort in Egypt)

eyoun sera
I am a young woman and yet they
visit me like a grave.
Circle of Masters.
A scorpion, black as oil, stings at each nipple.
He calls me Nefertiti...but no, President Mubarak
                     I am not buried alive. Yet.

I am like a Cobra dancing before you,
My naked "S" cobra-moaning like a curving rope
to lynch the pendulum's whore

          My mouth is sweet like honey
          My tongue like the sperm that comes when
          rain hits sugar
          My tight...tiny...pussy....salty as the Sea.
          Sweet dirty bitch--that's me.
The Dinka man insisting:
          "The taller she is....the more cows she deserves."

I am tall enough to nurse the moon.
But I don't want your Gods.
Your weak sperm...your petite dicks
You're nothing but men.

And I am not the devil...I just look like her.

*Taken from the classic book, "Nile River Woman"

NEW POEMS by Kola Boof:

"GOLDDIGGER"
      by Kola Boof

"NO NAME IN THE STREET”
by Kola Boof

They killed their own mother/
                         And the White People watched.

They killed their own mother
because they wanted to be
FREE/
(of the pain in her body)
Out of lies...they conjured up Hands.
Fists that PIMPED the Soul Machete.
They killed their own mother
because--she was black.
As Ghana
as dancing/as smiling
as chocolate cake batter on children's faces
as dusk
as cranberries
as yams/as honey
as Red and Gold leaves come autumn
as charcoal...they killed their own mother.
                                  And the White People watched.

You see them with their lies
African nigger-stock
Proud and free as Piss
HIP hopp-ING
and carrying on
about their ancestors
--as Blind and ignorant as
new puppies underneath
a House Porch.
This is what Blind love reaps.
This is what Blind love reaps.
Disappointment that has no name in the street.

These killers
with no name in the street
who dare Call/ the White Man...Satan.

These HIP...HIP killers.

___________________

Kola Boof's poem for John Garang's funeral:

http://newsblaze.com/story/20050805222214nnnn.nb/newsblaze/TOPSTORY/Top-Story.html

READ Kola Boof's new poem in honor of her friend, the slain Dutch
filmmaker and journalist, Theo Van Gogh:

http://poetwomen.50megs.com/catalog.html

Kola Boof in British News:

http://money.pacificherald.com/fullstory-insight-money+finance-newsID-8483.html

Queen Kola:

http://mirrormax.i8.com