Thomas Rogers Muyunga Mukasa has a poem on the subject of racial tolerance. Enjoy!

By The Skin!

What lies there? What is the big deal?
a question you and I confront,
sometimes out of discomfort,
or studied ire.

oh! This profusion of races!
goes a dismissive remark,
Oh! These sweet faces,
rebuts Mother Theresa!

But what is a skin?
so goes an unanswered query,
what lies beneath a skin?
there goes the deep inquiry.

The conscious shelter;
thus says a philosopher,
a line in the cosmos delineation;
this from a 'myoho' Buddhist.

A lid on bones,
an American writes,
once removed, continues the scribe,
bears open our oneness,
and that is a bottom line.

The African Mukulu adds;
the skin is a wrapping,
over a splendid bouquet,
a profuse bloom of love and care.

The aborigine Thayendanega says,
the skin is a way to the rainbow,
one by one all the tribes,
are small or big thoroughfares.

The skin baffled the seven dwarfs,
so goes a legend from that continent,
how they made a fuzz and buzz,
among their collections: magic, mirror and glass coffin.

By the skin! The things we ought to do;
some are so taken up by excuses,
others by denigrating connotations,
but the simple answer remains: oneness.

Daughters and sons of Aztec,
you the children of Incas,
the skin is a symbol of welcome;
we all are each others' "Viracochas."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

15 White Coated Black Bodies

 Dark puffed swirls of clouds, gathered as if to tell, of a glorious future, these are shoots on the lips and tongues, of the cotton plantation slaves, the plantationers, you may think of an engine, and you will be forgiven, for your idea of a motor, I speak of another engine, bent and painstakingly sore, picking and cleaning cotton, you may think of autonomous machines, and you will be forgiven, for your idea of automated robots, I speak of a primo automaton, for the plantations had them first, picking and cleaning cotton, a self-driving and self-repairing engine, a self-guiding beast of burden, lagging heavy cotton-filled baskets, if the pangs of child-birth, sent pin-pricks of painful reminders, this bent expectant mother, most likely nauseated but energetic, with the heartburn searing the chest, waves of Braxton Hicks contractions, a shriek of pain, birth rivulets flow, knees bended and the woman lies prostate, on firm solid terra, this is Mother Nature's Temple, The burning bu...
Read more

George Of The Constitution.....and Floyd

I tell you of George, one, a General and Geologist, the other, a Governor and Grand-Counsel, the third, A Black, who by his dying breathe, with a Knee, pressed hard, on his neck, was a property, succumbing to, his Master's will, the Master, an outcome of the, Constitution, upon which the other, Georges, put, their hands, as, appendages, one, adamant, the other, a protestant, 'Constitution lean enough, saber-thin and sharp, joins all in bands,' said one, 'needs a handle and sheath, bare it is dangerous, in the wrong hands,' rebutted the other, 'slaves have rights, freedom topmost,' the protestant corrects, 'slaves are property, masters' rights topmost,' answered the other, still they remained friends, One became the President, the other a Confidant, the Black George, however, was de-humanised, objectified, disenfranchised, patented, from cradle to death, destined to, b...
Read more

Thomas Rogers Muyunga Mukasa uses the power of poetry to share an insight with all of us!

God is Great! Every one knows, well almost, born human in a world so vast, inert curiosity the size of a mustard, the desire to order nature, orderliness, structure, fashion and fad, an unrequited passion to overwhelm. Divine existence listens more; sometimes talks, most times acts, our little books have all these facts, each human being is wondrously created, that is the fact we need to cherish, most of all the humans that make it real. People ford streams, scale highest mountains, organize religions; harness energies, all this is so great, can be greater; if humans invest time in people to people skills, than machinations for people to people kills. Small sweet repeated acts; train wagons of charity, leveling the playing fields, facing up with disparity, pacifying the chaos in our minds, act out our humanity. Pocket size pleasures, reproducible successes, portable devices, our mouths speak of capacities, actions erase impos...
Read more