About #48AnHour
Rapist penetrate minds; seeping semen down bloodlines
Controlling bodies with sex from extremities
Soulless holding the holes were governments placed their batteries
Perpetrators of battery, declaring manhood over bleeding vaginas
Religious men who say amens before they sacrifice
Offering up virginities in the name of mobile phone parts
Women losing ownership of body parts, men flipping clits like revolving doors
Babies wishing they have revolvers to evolve heaven from these floors
Fluorescent lights and windows, can’t keep the shadows off your back
Especially during pregnancy, and gang rapists flip coins for turns
Turn to your husband to find nothing but his memory
He’s packed his bags because it’s your fault for being raped
He says your impure in contrast to the pure minerals that they emptied you for
Euphoria a distant memory, can’t engage in intercourse without the discourse
Of war torn memories.
Rebels in Congo say they rape to feel free, they imprison infants beneath their exposed
Skeletons, stunting childhoods as their trousers fall to their knees
Who will testify for the new born babies?
Even as they grow will they find words in the calligraphy of their scars?
Will they be able to identify the perpetrators in a country lead by lying lips painted red
with blood or is the passive woman a perfect painting in the gallery of patriarchy
America, United Kingdom,
Imagine your army raping your women in their thousands
Your mother, your wife, your daughter
Can we not swallow truth?
Are governments waiting for the mines of Africa to become hollow?
Before they exchange their whispers for words
To profit resources before they endanger the 8th wonder of the world – African women
Are we accustomed to 3 minute YouTube documentaries
That we watch like fictional films and then post on, twitter to confirm we are not shallow
How close does destruction have to be to propel action
Do we measure the difference in distance or a decision?
And i know i am a part of the problem, if I know this stuff and do nothing
I am all of my poems so the first line of my poems marked the beginning
of my quest for action, in fact this whole poem is simply the first speech mark
Punctuating the minds and craniums of false prophets
Probably acting unstable because they’re high on uranium
Who instruct congregations to run from raped women
Turning your head from the fire doesn’t stop it burning
Doesn’t stop it igniting neighbouring trees
Licking both sides of the grass in your garden red.
If this fire came to your doorstep, tell me where would you turn you head?
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