Rigorous
Volume One, Issue 2


Untitled 2

Daniel Maluka


In my youth, they told me a black out was a loss of power
I believed them
Yet I found fun
playing in the dark
Dark eats light and My heart sings
We lose our power wax transports us to a time long past. A time of the past
A time when time was still a young girl
How often do you get to go to the past?

When I was a little older they said, black magic was the work of the
Devil
Incantations cast by those poor souls
Forsaken by God
For awhile I believed them but that while
Didn’t last a long while
Faith of my forefathers I now practice what they preach
A faith they once dismissed Gods they tried to kill

They say a black out is a loss of power

How can man kill what he does not understand?
How can man kill what he fears?
The deities I worship are coloured as I am
They look as I do. I have no idols
I have no false idols
I have no idols
No idols no idols no idols no idols

They told me the black market was a sin
But I always liked pirates
I wave this black flag proudly
Not the white flag of surrender my black flag is that of defiance
Black not white
Technicolour only in our dreams

I fear no man, god only If only
God made me of more brittle clay
then they would affect me. My clay is dark and forged in fire
Father forgive them for thinking they test me
Father forgive them they aren’t fit to stand in my presence
I cover the entire earth for
Day can’t breakaway when this night falls

And they say a black out is a loss of power

My black mist will drown your white clouds
Lungs as jars billowing this thick smoke
Gasp for air call his name I dare you
Screams trapped in a mouth sealed shut
I spoke to the moon,
In all her power, even she gives into the night

In my youth, they told me a black out is a loss of power
Now I don’t believe them
Technicolour only in our dreams.
In my youth, they told me a black out is a loss of power

They ask ‘why do those of that tribe wear jewels and chains’
Jewels and chains
Black jewels draped in chains I say to them:
My ancestors speak through me
And chains were all they knew
I am the son of slaves; my progeny will be
Men Exalted


Daniel Maluka is a 21-year-old African American writer and visual artist. Daniel is drawn to work that moves and is committed to producing work that moves others. Daniel likes to play soccer, write and draw. He is currently enrolled in his final year of University and is looking forward to doing some traveling




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