A Streetkid Of Humanity Poem by Black Consciousness Poetry BCP

Stationary, in a state of becoming but never
be, standing on static concrete barren of
history worth-mentioning, for it stands on
stolen land and silenced voices.

A dirty hobo, rejected and denounce as a
subhuman, dragged on the mud of servitude,
dehumanized before and for civilizations while
the clergy sing hymns of how I was born a
sinner.

Hungry, starving for self, searching for syllables
on muted mouths of my ancestors, booked and
sentenced by foreign laws.

Standing at the T-junction of life, with open hands
and searching eyes, looking for my forebear's footprints
on the shore sands of history, only to conclude that they
were long washed away by western waves.

I'm a street-kid, born with no name, for my history
was deaden, my home invaded and colonized.
Pungent with marginalization, I'm a fart no one
dare claim, deserted by humanity, forgotten by
God and his only son, for they no longer resemble
my face.

labeled black, an enigma of Nations, a street-kid
of humanity, constituted as an outcast, on my own
surviving in a inhuman white world.

|Sazi KaMzibeni|