qarrtsiluni

by Maroula Blades

What are you gonna do for the black artist,
the one whose voice dwindles in the storm?
We are not silent by any means, just black.
Black get back, your talk is too big and loud,
but not cheap like the shoes I wear, so bear
the brunt of my sass, the persistent itching
of my tongue on the back of your mind,
let what you think is the devil’s wayward word
turn and club some sense, yes sense.
Black, up in your face not with guns, words.
I’m nigger with a book not a poptheweasle gun.
Suck this; chew the black lip truth,
Remnants of storms, hardcore, steadfast words,
fast and furious, quick in effect, deadly in assault,
funky, but still wanting peace. Believe!
Brethren, let me hear you say, ‘well.’ Word for the fearless.

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Maroula Blades is an Afro-British writer living in Berlin. Verbrecher Verlag and Cornelsen Verlag have published her short stories. She has received awards for poetry. Poems have been published in Germany and abroad. She read at the Berlin Poetry Festival 2008.