- On the first time I realised I was a black girl and not just a girl. Not just Tamara Tembo

Today you will get rejected by not 1 but 5 guys because your friend tried to set you up
You will laugh as though it is nothing find yourself wondering why
wondering what is wrong with you
not knowing this will soon tear you apart

She's nice but but she's black
She's alright but black girls aren't that hot
She's a great friend but I don't date black girls

Today you will be nothing but a black girl
You will stand in front of the mirror and see nothing but this complexion
This sin of body, 
You will begin to scrub at your skin
Try to peel yourself scream away the pain
You will hate yourself
See all this darkness
Try to cleanse this darkness
Become pure of this African
Because you will feel as though you are charcoal
You are burnt of beauty
And you will find yourself here at 22
Feeling as though your hue is to blame for another heart ache
Your pigment will make you feel shame
Make you descend into detest

But
My black and I are not symbiotic
I am black, I am woman, I am African, i am golden brown baptised in strength
I am all of this
I am Tamara tombizonda tembo in all her glory

 

 

- [ ] On the loneliness and anguish that comes with Seasonal Affective Disorder

She lays, bed bound
Crumb stained sheets
Smeared chocolate 
Smeared tears
Her bed, a fairground
Of tainted thoughts
Sinful play
A carousel of dreams
Spins ideas, through her mind
The bedsheets surrender, for she is crowned
The queen of a linen cacoon
Somewhere in the background
Soft jazz plays
Hear her sound
Hear her cry
She writes, something profound
She thinks
She breathes
She finally moves

 

- [ ] This poem is about how even when you are at your lowest and clinging on for dear life, there will still be people out there that use you for their own pleasure. 

The sign above reads opening hours: always
Visitors hours: always
Long term visitors: never
No long term visitors
Nobody wants to be around death for too long
Maybe scared it might rub off, maybe this death that consumes her is too much 
Nobody wants to be around death for too long
Didn't you know the cemetery is for the living never for the dead
This cemetery is for all you living in wonderment, gazing upon this grave
Come lay your necklaces by this tombstone
Your Rings, your bracelets, trinkets to distract from your intentions
Lay your thoughts, spew your pain
Let it absorb in this soil, leave your dirty thoughts to linger, fertilise feelings of could be's should be's
Don't you know the cemetery is for the living
This cemetery is for all you living
In happiness
Forgetting you have left these remains that cling to the possibility of being put back together
Don't you see she relies on you to put her back together
In those minutes that you spend with her she is no longer deceased 
No longer hollow
Broken
Dark
Don't you know the cemetery is for the living 
This cemetery is for all you living
Among corpse's
Not knowing your conversation of self 
Never focused on resurrection
Is all she dwells on
keeps her 6 feet deep
Not your fault, people were never meant to keep loving the dead
Aren't capable of bringing the dead back to life 
Don't you feel bad for never giving me life 
The cemetery is always for the living never for the dead
they all come, spend their minutes, leave just a corpse with a sweet scent, ready for the next visitor

 

- [ ] The pain that is caused by the constant murders of unarmed black men, women and children can be difficult to articulate. In this poem I try to discuss the pain I feel whenever I read or watch another story about police brutality. Black lives will forever matter

Does the shade of my melanin offend you?
Does the confidence in my walk alarm you?
Must I tone down my blackness to avoid all the madness?
Must I tone down my blackness or does it not matter regardless?
Black and happy, I guess that’s a crime
Educated and intelligent, you truly despise this
My soul is shaken, sinking and breaking
Finding no escape in, finding myself reciting
T!
Relax and breathe
Breathe breathe breathe
Eric Garner 43, do you remember?
Do you remember his cries
Sketched in my throat he was held at the throat
I cant breathe I cant breathe
I think I heard the nigger speak?
Must have angered them to hear him fighting back
He was 43
Does the shade of my melanin offend you?
Does the confidence in my walk alarm you?
To become less of a threat must we be silent?
Yet silence in the most innocent purest form existed in Aiyana jones 7 years old
engrossed in peaceful slumber, murdered in peaceful slumber.
Tell me must sleeping babies lie white
Trayvon Martin 17 years old
Young and unarmed
Shot in the back in cold blood
Shouldn’t have been black
Shouldn’t we be black?
Tamir Rice 12! 12 years old
Baby boy you were never given the chance
They claim to be victims in your murder
But it only took 2 seconds to fire their hatred that tore at your torso
Did they not hear, the jolt of the bullet
your body hitting the ground 
All your blood emptied on the floor
He was just 12 years old
They never believe us when we say we're innocent
They must not see our hands up
They must not hear don't shoot
Dontre Martin 31, shot 14 times
Was one shot not enough
You can hear them whisper black and unarmed easy target
Wanna make sure that nigger never get back up
And I’m tired.
Im tired of seeing unarmed black men, women, children murdered in cold blood
Sandra Bland 28
Murdered in her cell
Her corpse dressed
They couldn't care less they were careless 
See we knew, we know
That had body was thrown
Gravity pulling her hair back
No gleam in her eyes
Now say her name with me
Sarah reed, 31
Beaten punched bruised
She was thrown to ground and 
Grabbed at the hair 
Can you believe all that for theft
It can't go on like this cause 
This black carries weight this black carries pain
This black is in pain

 

 

- falling in love is somewhat tricky. Falling in love when you are not in love with yourself is even more difficult but you will always be someone’s favourite colour

 

Rainbow

 

I feel red in the lining of my skin

without pause, a constant flow

hair standing, my pulse racing

I feel rage in the lining of my skin

But my heart beams yellow

Do you see my glow?

Must I cut myself open, pour myself

Do you see me yellow, or do you know me orange?

Mild yet vibrant

Timid and shy

My mind is green with envy for those that linger in your passing thoughts

I won’t say I’m blue but I feel it in my bloodstream

Captured in this purple haze, high on the replays of our happiness

Won’t you colour me violet or maybe even violent

when anger runs my emotions

Though you paint me indigo

a comfort to your soul

 

Your favourite colour