Black Looks - Including an African LGBTIQ+ Archive

Africa , Dumb America, Poetry, Politics


one of the solos in my head keeps chanting that

uncertainty is the best way to contaminate time.


i, myself am not sure what i am meant to scream to that

because i am already living the truth of that statement,

by default.


i wake up furious because the sun keeps rising

and the days keep

swiftly rolling

along, yet i am still unsure.

i remain restless and risible in my uncertainty –

laughing and dancing without a cause.


waiting has finished the bones of my body,

it has thinned the threads of my mind.

i set each damned sun with bottles of bitter white wine because

i need to evade the questions in my head about why

my future is still yet to be written by some fat-bellied white

man in the concrete jungle across the sea.

questions demanding to know

if it is really necessary for my lips to be thus curled with cynicism.

surely i am too young for the darkness in my head.

that solo in my head, i think, should rather speak to me about danger

because uncertainty has a knack for creating desperation. please,

a chorus of solos in my head should proclaim a chilling message about danger, and guide me along the path of the smiling sun.