Mbizo Chirasha

Mbizo Chirasha is an internationally acclaimed performance poet, writer, and creative projects consultant. He is widely published in more than Seventy-five journals, magazines, and anthologies around the world. He was the poet-in-residence: from 2001-2004 for the Iranian embassy/UN Dialogue among civilizations project; the United Nations Information Centre – 2001-2008; Convener/Event Consultant THIS IS AFRICA POETRY NIGHT 2004 – 2006; official performance poet Zimbabwe International Travel Expo in 2007; Poet in Residence  of  the International conference of African culture and development/ ICACD 2009; and official Poet Sadc Poetry Festival, NAMIBIA 2009. A delegate to the Unesco photo novel writing project in Tanzania, Mbizo is the Official poet in residence for the ISOLA/ international conference of oral literature 2010 in Kenya.Mbizo is Chirasha is widely profiled in both local and abroad media institutions. His poetry books Good Morning President  is Published in UK and Whispering Woes of Ganges and Zambezi is published by  an Indian/American Publisher Cyberwit Press. Alot of more anthologies are under review by other publishers.Mbizo Chirasha the Founder /Operations/Creative Director of Girlchild Creativity Project and the newly founded Urban Colleges Writers Prize.

Decade of Bullets
Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou
See a procession of young mothers chattering their way
From water fountains in grenade torn sandals
And blood laced bras

Somalia, Somalia, Somalia
See the moon disappearing in a mass of gun smoke
Guns splitting the stars from the skin of night

Rwanda, Rwanda, Rwanda
This is a wound from which the pus of grief flows freely
Meandering through rock masses into the valley that lost its freedom

Timbuktu, Timbuktu, Timbuktu
I hear a rush of footsteps of sorrow
Rugged peasants carrying their compounds to far away valleys of flowers



Letter to AmeriKa

I dreamt sadamu and Kaddafi chasing after America through,

Oil sodden sand dunes

Ghosts of dethroned spirits crossing Blue Nile through the valleys of Sahara

Ghosts with fingers and barefoot burning and cracking in the pans of their Sahara oil

Ghosts whose blood juice up the freedom of their people, people of their song

Ghosts whose ritual is NATO and obituary is gun thunder


I dreamt Afrika shiting typhoid after eating autocracy chocolate coated democracy

Anthropology and ancientry roasted and recycled in ovens of Harvard and California

Professors and politicians juggled like lottery balls


My talent riddled fingers itch to write a long letter to AmeriKa

About war cooked in labs and ideologies hatched in test tubes for peanut states to eat and sing-mental genocide


Ebola ghosts eating tubes, arvs and Gmos

Mental genocide of Kongo and other cassava republics

Cable and fox networks roasting struggles through stomachs of young revolutions

My nostrils are tired of the stench, stench of human flesh fried in the charcoal of superpower ego

Dear America, my eyes are red itching with political pepper in Panama and Haiti, my heart for their freedom


Propaganda Cafe

Villagers feed on new diet of slogans

Peasants imbibing the lyrical taste of ice-cold political alcohol,

Saved with roasted , salted propaganda nuts

Propaganda gods and goddesses smuggling new breeds of manifestos

Paparazzi snorting rumour nicotine for tomorrow editorials and opinions

Half baked news candy cakes and roughly cooked opinion chocolates

Vendetta – fodder for masses

Rumour- fodder for povo

Concrete streets blistered by hatred posters

City faces scarred by ballot graffiti

Dreams of toddler presidents frozen into tasteless ice cubes in state cold rooms

I see systems steaming away into abortion and condom republics

Revolutions burning away into banana and cassava republics.




We walked through the smoke of Mali

Dead gods and goddesses singing dead poetry

Vultures feeding on abandoned anthropology


I see children born out heavy nights in the depth of violent dreams

Your face wounded by pain and endurance

Bamako, i will bring a landmine filled with metaphors,

To stop the day of the junta smashing dimples of freedom

Bamako ,

i  will walk with you through the  heavy dew to the  valley of dawn

3 thoughts on “Mbizo Chirasha

  1. Mbizo Chirasha says:

    Thank very much Rob to have read and consider publishing my poetry.Iam quite grateful and thank ful.

  2. No need to thank me. Your work deserves to be here and all over the place.

  3. Chitopota (N Makwarimba) says:

    mbizo wakapenga

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