Complexion Poem by choppa Muleba

The motherland fought and purged-
But finally merged-
Across an axiom of segregation,
To a present of sophistication,
A present filled with integration,

In spite, racism is an entity,
Of true colour calamity,
It is a historic war of doom,
Fought from the morning brume,
A rout that leaves the world in a gloom.

Today is filled with colour rift,
A door that inhibits a youthful dream,
And with it-
Black becomes a victim,
And severence dances to the rythm,
The rythm of racism.

Colour of skin is a trim of hate,
That makes a paradox of fate-
As passive wars come in a spate.
A war which blacks have lost,
As whites went for a checkmate.

It is a defier of human kind,
A perpetrator of a young black mind.
The world claims to love,
But jealousy is written in the skies above,
And Hidden in the wings of a dove.