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Biko, Biko, Biko

Biko, Biko, Biko
We lament, scream, from our porous shacks
Our back rooms in masters’ quarters
We don’t even know who the enemy is anymore
Holding together these broken dreams
Dying at the hands of our brothers and sistas
They have joined the ranks of our masters
On our knees, serving, so we can be served our dreams on a platinum platter
At the hands of an invisible enemy adamant to take from us even our god given joy
Our very existence is a syndrome
A sign of the karma visited upon us
What is it we have done that is so terrible that karma won’t allow us to break free?
Defeated by our own convictions
Slayed with our own beliefs
And our children prostitute themselves for a better tomorrow
The dream must stay alive…however way
We will be free

Biko, Biko, Biko
You are the dream of the future,
The present, and the past
The dream that sparkles for a minute before it is snuffed until a better breed can carry it
The dream that is our dying breath
As we die in the hands of those who must save us

Like pigs in a pigsty we pull each other down in our quest to get out of the mud
Never knowing that we have been duped and there is no mud
Just that our perception of our reality has been warped
The mirror is wired to highlight our ugliness never our glory

This pigsty is a platinum mine
This mirror is a window made to deceive
So we may never see the sun
Feel the sun on our sun kissed bodies

We shall never deify you
It would defeat our purpose
All for one and one for all
No more hierarchies
We walk step for step with our gods
As we always have

Even the small things defeat us
For we do not see the forest for the trees
Or maybe we see too much
And the seeing blinds us
Hopefully momentarily
For I have never seen a people
So adamant in their destruction
Afrika eats her children
Before the dream is born it dies a silent death
The proto signs of a defeated people
Mass suicide to please the capitalist monster on whose throne we worship and whose origins we have no understanding of
Except that the monster’s ferocious hunger is mirrored inside us

I still dream, despite it all…
In the ashes I reside in, I still dream…
That there is a Phoenix in all of this
Preventing me from committing suicide on the altar of our dreams
For I am despondent and mass suicidal
Even those who must save me betray me first
So I will be dependent on their delusions of grandeur to find my peace

Peace is all I’m looking for
Freedom is all I desire
I have these goodies in my bag for all humanity
You can only appreciate them if you appreciate me…see

I have these goodies
They don’t care for your prejudices meant to kill
These goodies will keep you alive
Despite your ignorance that maims our dreams,
Your dreams…

Holding these threads together
These threads bestowed upon the most unworthy
You will learn or you will die
Your death is my death
The death of humanity
You are me and I am you
I die, you die

Karma has bestowed upon us this reality

Biko, Biko, Biko
I can not ask where you are
I know you reside within all of us
We are the heroes we must call forth
The echo of the dreams waiting to be born
Your death has borne these fruits
These fruits waiting to die
To rot in exultation
That we lived
And fed future futures with our despondency filled with hope
That tomorrow can be better if we work on it today

You are not our death, but, our life
The breast that will feed generations to come
The spear that will rip the fabric of the obstacles standing in our way



About Simphiwe Dana

Musician, Writer, Activist, Mom


4 thoughts on “Biko, Biko, Biko

  1. Awesome, Awesome, Awesome!! Sheer brilliance!!!

    Posted by Sipho Thindi | December 1, 2012, 14:46
  2. Was so inspired by this poem that I have decided to write one for you,its not that Good,its still becoming but like beings poems must be.

    Unlocking the music between her locks

    God is the shame that
    Wears the eyes
    That blind’s the ear
    We start worshipping in
    Tongues only to speak
    The secretes of the night
    What language does the heart
    Speak,if it will never be understood?
    If God is the awaken of man
    Prayer is the death that
    Shall free man
    From the hunger of
    Her brothers and sisters
    Who will slaughter her
    In the periphery of her dream
    Perhaps we die
    Because when we sleep
    We dream alone


    The spider walks
    In traces
    We shall find ourselves
    In the web of others thought
    Perhaps we die
    We try to think like


    Man is born
    Man is never told the
    Song’s of the forlorn
    Our bodies movement
    Are the writers of our own revolution
    Perhaps we die
    Because we were never warned
    That democracy has a denouement


    God is the breast
    That we sulk our tears from
    Never turn to God
    In the times of hunger
    Never look your sister in the eye
    You will always appear small
    Never read this poem
    And think God
    Is the Almighty
    For God is powerless
    In the hands of whites
    Perhaps we die
    No one has told us
    Who is a God.

    For simphiwe dana


    Thabiso Bhengu

    Posted by thabiso | December 1, 2012, 18:45
  3. Epic 🙂

    Posted by Thandokazi | December 3, 2012, 06:31

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