MiaScript

Khulisa invites our secrets

My defence are sawn off

              I have no secrets to keep.

              Khulisa invites our secrets

I wonder what safe space

There is for vulnerability?

          Khulisa invites our secrets

          I call friends to do a test run.

I’m not here laying blame!

Khulisa invites our secrets

           I’m a woman, a mountain

           An ant & I’m proud to be.

Khulisa invites our secrets

Are mission statements

           Protective enough?

           Khulisa invites our secrets

Out in the open to play

Who mends our wounds?

           Khulisa invites our secrets

           ‘If you decide to keep

Secrets ills will follow!’

Khulisa invites our secrets

           I want to tell it as it is

           Not man not woman

Khulisa invites our secrets

I will the truth if the last

         Sit still with my pain.

         Khulisa invites our secrets

Can this safe space resist

‘Black & white’ traditions?

Mia Nikasimo (c) April 2009

Passengers stand
Packed sardine, crabby.
A mother bothered by life

Catering for two kids
Tends her wounds on edge.

‘Hold on to the bar, hon,’

She said to one of her daughters, abusively.
‘Do not touch that man.’
Two “gay” people (a man And a woman) amuse

Themselves silly as of old. I can understand homo
-phobes, what is yours?
They chose ‘the talking cure’ which wasn’t new, was it?

Birds of a feather, flock 2gether after

Eulij Blinde’s illness. I lose myself in

Stephen Parr’s “Bonningate”.

Somehow it shields me
From your cutting turrent.
A while past as time does

Then I lit a candle on an
Xmas tree early in spring.
No, I’m not a man, dear,

No, I’m not a leper either.
Mum’s having a bad day that’s All.

I’m a passenger

Like you and your life “worn” mother!

Mia Nikasimo (c) March 2009

Snow White’s slap stung!
Not of The Seven Dwarfs,
Hell no! Far older than that.

What did I do?
Nothing short of saying,
‘Sorry doll, I don’t do shipwrecks,’ 

And heck like a
Bad rash SD flared up!
‘If it took shackles to drag

You out, I would!’ said SD, her

head of bleached out blonde

hair making of her a medusa at full tilt.
An insult to a black persön for sure:
Rage, calm I felt both then neither 

And SD was prove… Living, breathing,
With her racist’s consciousness seeping

through like rancid pus.
‘Is this what reality is?’
Brixton, Port-au-Prince, Gaza?

Perhaps of a kind, perhaps?

Or just another mishap?

Mia Nikasimo (c) January 2009

Time stopped still, really!
The Yoruba Modern
Practical Dictionary

Had just defined the word, “Lesbian.”

Leaving me sitting there out cold.

A moment to breathe,
A second to catch my
Bearings in a twilight

Moment, a predicament
Of old as such in a Chemist’s glimpsed try.

Words to tell… No Jill for
Jack nor Jack for Jill; or

Was that just a test run?

The neighbourhood hood
Reckon everyone knows!
Is it any wonder children

Are assumed dabbling in
Black magic & the occult
Because they ask stuff?

Slumbering orthodoxy tics;

Fela’s “follow, follow!”
Rang so, oh so truth!

People follow the book
Without a proper user’s instruction to guide them.

To think, they thought they

Knew anything about anything; wildly off.

What of fe-masculinity* if
“Girl like boy”* in Yoruba is a Lesbian?

Do you get me?

Everyone’s insane, really?
Really, without exclusion,
Facades; no recompense.

*Masculine female

Mia Nikasimo (c) March 2009

Notes to, “Really?”

*Lesbian (according to the Modern Yoruba Practical Dictionary) is “Obirin asebiako”.

*Yoruba -the language of the people of South West Nigeria.

*Masculine female/woman… Contrary to a friend’s assumption, this is nothing to do with trans but more to do with women generally (not butchness or tomboys and their lifestyles either but women loving women.)