We’re really pleased to have Poetra Asantewa on the bill for our International Women’s Day book slam, ‘Women of the World: Talking about a Revolution‘. She has been described as “a sensational balance of poetry, intellect, wit, and high-mindedness”. Poetra is the kind of poet who captives an audience. Here’s a taster of one of Poetra’s poems below. To read more of Poetra’s poetry check out her blog.
Liberate She
Currency, food and spiraling promises
Shiny cars, heavy jewelry and bottle-shaped figures delivered with a kiss
In your face they worship you for keeping your sons close
Turn around; you’re the 21st century emperor with his new clothes
You get a lot of love, cos you’re nature’s most endowed child
They smile and say they called the goldsmith but it’s the digger’s number they dialed
Seeds with extra layers of sugar is planted, and the basic coon is unable to refrain
So we work our veins instead of our brains;Hold our hands to our heads like Hades threatened to come on land
And complain bitterly with still no reasonable plan
Our leaders fight for the torch and preach about unification
Handover our torches in exchange for flashlights and call it liberation
How do you build hurdles on a lane that’s meant to be fast?
“Who jails society when it does horrors to the people?” – the one who emanates greatness asks?Is liberation ticking yes just because everyone says blood is red?
Or not worrying about what they all think and preparing for what lays ahead by being well read?
Dancing barefoot in the rain, hair in a mess?
Or clicking heels in a thousand and one bracelets?
Compromising your art for a stack of bills?
Or loving what you do and getting satisfaction refills?
The fine line between liberation and manipulation we thread it in with hard core ignorance
We’re blind to the writing on the wall, – “liberate your minds, ‘fore you use your hands”
Shiny cars, heavy jewelry and bottle-shaped figures delivered with a kiss
In your face they worship you for keeping your sons close
Turn around; you’re the 21st century emperor with his new clothes
You get a lot of love, cos you’re nature’s most endowed child
They smile and say they called the goldsmith but it’s the digger’s number they dialed
Seeds with extra layers of sugar is planted, and the basic coon is unable to refrain
So we work our veins instead of our brains;Hold our hands to our heads like Hades threatened to come on land
And complain bitterly with still no reasonable plan
Our leaders fight for the torch and preach about unification
Handover our torches in exchange for flashlights and call it liberation
How do you build hurdles on a lane that’s meant to be fast?
“Who jails society when it does horrors to the people?” – the one who emanates greatness asks?Is liberation ticking yes just because everyone says blood is red?
Or not worrying about what they all think and preparing for what lays ahead by being well read?
Dancing barefoot in the rain, hair in a mess?
Or clicking heels in a thousand and one bracelets?
Compromising your art for a stack of bills?
Or loving what you do and getting satisfaction refills?
The fine line between liberation and manipulation we thread it in with hard core ignorance
We’re blind to the writing on the wall, – “liberate your minds, ‘fore you use your hands”