AFRICA IS NOT DEAD( this is a tribute of those who lost lives through HIV/AIDS and those who are living POSITIVE lives ) – Africa walked in the dark past . Africa traversed in valleys of shadows of death. Africa died many deaths and lived many lives. Africa! Africa is not dead .Africa swallowed oceans of sweat. Africa gulped seas of tears. Africa is not dead. Africa’s children wash in blood every dawn. Africa harvest wasted lives every night. Death of Congo. Tired limbs of Zambezi. Tear soaked Khayelitsha, an African paradox .Cholera haunted streets of Kitwe. Corruption sloshed Abuja. Poverty eaten Gorongosa. HIV ridden Mahalape. Africa walked in valleys of shadows of death. Africa is still walking. Africa is not dead. Africa must rise from ashes of shame. Africa rise with the sun and smile to the yellow mellow glee of dawn. Africa is not dead. Africa rise and walk in the valleys of light and the sun. Africa is not dead. ALUTA CONTINUA.For submissions , information and other creative vibes contact Curator MBIZO CHIRASHA at





OPEYEMI JOE OLANIHUN writes from Ibadan. He’s had his works featured in journals, reviews and anthologies the world over. He likes soccer and singing, in that order. He is also a geologist


Egrets in synchronized flights
Welcome the new year;
Eagles over the bellying smoke
Circle the clouds curtaining the new year;
Harmattan meets the ocean
His pouch dust-choked, he
Brings with him the locusts,
Likewise my peoples
Demented by the mirages
Herald with the royal bugle
The selfsame vultures of their rotted fortunes.

Wilson Waison Tinotenda, an aspiring poet, human rights activists, page poet, flash fictionist as well as an editor of the ( Deem literature organization ). Born on the seventh of January 1998 at a local clinic in Chitungwiza of great svikiro, Tsuro Chaminuka. A Zimbabwean by birth and originates from Malawian tribe. The son of one Godwell Waison and Angeline Mandimika, being the first in a family of two, Annah Waison, little sister .


A misnomer to say, a misconception conceived
At thirteen she dropped her mammary glands…
Them getting swollen, impetuous she suddenly
Has physical changes, her body conforming to
What seemed be a physiological condition wry.

The incident, behind the drainage, the vagrant
Took her innocence, Cheshuramatongo genetic
Fused into her canal, in gloomy penetrance of
Forceful thrives snd her mouth shut, scars to
Her body tattooed in her fights to escape these.

Traumatic experiences to acknowledge vices of
Mother nature and her mean, she looks drowsy
Dry lips, cracked and drips of bloody sweating,
Hairs like a cancer patient they drop off sculls.
Shame brother deny his sexual escapades awry

Sleepless nights in deep meditation of fostering
A base bastard yet too in his gene fuse viral load
Aquired from canal inflammation and Immune
Dysfunctional and remedy deficiency syndrom
She is left for death and her spawn too, dying…


The darkness silenced, frogs in swamps shuts
Croaking, what an awkward December eve
The streets emptying, deadly calm and lit my
Lamp to perceive the hissing create crawling,
A serpent from the green grass ready to strike.

Heads stormed, she sucks from my viral loads
A night stand she seem to call it, for a fee, One
Night turned her mare, latex fit the first-time..
Second and third, her mysteries of that sorting
My thick blood that clots in her membrane vein

How I don’t feel remorseful for she bought the
Cursing at free will, maybe the fiscal burdens!
Harshly creased on her thrusts mad me a soul
To her longings of a bottle of olive oil for cook.
How poetry got them into this business today?

No no no my conscience painted black in denial
After the deed has been done, I knew she was
My victim number thirty-three, my blackblood
Fusing in their ulceration from the rough sex.
I bruised and inflamed too, blood oozing, drops

roberta muthehtwa

ROBERTA QHUBILE MTHETHWA was born at EMsahweni,Adams Mission in Durban.She studied Bachelor of Arts in Media and Communications at the University of Kwa-Zulu Natal(Howard College). She works for the Neil Hoskebs Coaching Academy as Administrator and Sports coach Qhubile is a budding writer and poet.

Symphonies of the seed of Aids,
Singing to out if tune of HIV/AIDS
Children of Africa muted by a mutant disease
Icons falling like acorns from an oak tree
Never to rise and ripe into orchids from a well-orchestrated garden.
HIV is the new glucose in hemoglobin.
My blood tainted and tattooed.
My skin sagging and subdued.

Grenades of love
Bazookas of support
Swords of care
thrown by mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers.
Armies of Families standing together
Arsenal and Assegais ready to combat the ENEMY
Victory is Ours
Only Ours defeats all odds
Skills and Pills deal their blow
Vanquish The Pain
Rise Hope
Rise Healed Children of Africa
Stay Down HIV
Kneel and bow out AIDS
Your Time is UP!


JABULANI MZINYATHI NDLOVU is an artist. A relentless fighter for equal rights and justice. He has penned dozens of poems. He is a singer of songs about all the wrongs. He speaks from the past to the present and the future


This pen spits not venom
No venom against vermin
Driven it is by righteous indignation
Driven it is by an immense sense of justice
Echoing the words of Marcus Mosiah Garvey
That justice is greater than the law

The thoughts portrayed are organic
Travelling far and wide for wisdom
Learning lessons from Russia
Blame not the mirror if your face is askew
This mirror reflecting that wild dog snarl

A housefly cannot make honey
A bee cannot spread malaria
A dove can never crow
Blame me not for this righteous indignation
When the truncheon does its dance
Tearing up the flesh of perceived foes
When the smouldering tear gas canisters bounce
Scattering and choking those that dare shout
While an accusing finger points at the silent majority

I have not been able to bury my head in the sand
Refusing to carry that burden on my shoulders
I have not been able to admire the undulating landscape
Without thinking of many lying in unmarked graves
I have not been able to admire the setting sun
Without an invocation of images of dripping blood
This writing shall always be organic
After the funeral no longer shall there be dirges
A longing for the mirthful laughter of African children


MOHAU ABDUL RAHEEM, Mohau Mohlope is from Ikageng in Potchefstroom, in the North West province. Mohau attened Boitirelo primary school and later went to Botoka Comprehensive School. A community builder. He expresses himself and project thoughts through poetry and other different outlets of art.


Country lies dead under bamboo tree.
In unkempt dried shrubs of deserted forest swamping lifeless
in proceeding death,
With mutilated and tormented limbs swaying fleeing breeze
Triggering snaps, shivering aching shots there.
Vividly long living in written memoirs
Denting restless wonders of life alike at the distant outburst
Winter seen it but others heard of, country rumours gloaming in august.
Body damned chaos,societal mobs,oozing air into fiery flags.
Cold dripping from lips head-trudging formidable reasons to bear extinction.
Wrapped in wintry smile,smothering mist,where no warmth equates,
whisker stare and a rabble of civilians decreeing,
Shrouded in surreal death bringing end to country’s birth
Porous earth heaping anthills dug in dust.
Unsettling weary bones,in shade of tree airing last breath of a country in august




CHRISPAH MUNYORO s currently a student of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming. at Kwekwe Polytechnic College in Zimbabwe. Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist. She is natural linguist, fluent in many languages among them English, Shona, Esperanto, Setswana, Swahili, Italiana and Yoruba. She began as a columnist writing feature articles in the Gweru Times in Midlands Province Capital of Zimbabwe. She has worked as a Midlands Chapter Chairperson of the Zimbabwe Association of Freelance Journalists. Munyoro was once a Zimbabwe Representative at Zone IV Regional Youth Games in 2014 Bulawayo in the boxing discipline. The multi-disciplinary artist is registered under AIBA the international body of boxing. The Writer, Artist, Poet, Journalist and athlete has been writing poetry since her tender years and she has participated in various writers, poetry, journalism and sports


Babies nursing other babies
The kindergarten becoming a cooperate place
Future looks so like a doomsday
Dreams just gloomy
Wishes so deary and weary
Parents wiped away into the abyss
HIV pandemic creating pandemonium chaos
A scourge with no remorse
Venomously destroying humankind
Even after decades the stigmatising is at peak
The affected victims living as aliens
Human hate against each other
After all we are all moving dust
Cry I, for all gone without access to treatments
Tribulations triggered by denial for the society is too judgemental Economic meltdown swallowing families without care
Medicinally all is in vain
Dear God ,we are your orphans
The purpose of life is an impossibility hear our torments
The world is in turmoil, hearts freaking for who HIV aids is picking



Ndeke Nancy is an accomplished poet and an published author of long fiction and poetry from Nairobi, Kenya. She loves nature. Her greatest passion is in reading while at the same time writing poetry.


In the bowels of the mind,
Where bowlegged ogres sit,
Astride fumes of hatred,
Ideas and idols exchange effluence,
Casting skewed coals,
Over seven billion inhabitants,
Whose crime is to breathe,
It is in their interest not,
To share in the free,
But to rob the other,
Of space on the globe,
So charge the change,
Target the libido of men,
And the honey pot incubator,
Where love is butchered,
And future tortured,
A disease of love,
A curse of loving,
Stripping flesh and baring bone,
Nowhere is this scourge so pronounced,
Than in the rogue loins,
Of a philandering mate,
And the innocent blood transfusion,
A mere cut and contact thereafter,
Population decimation in earnest,
Drugs a top dollar affair,
Fallen populations spewing agonized demises,
A sleuth rupture to capture death with ecstasy,
As the sane wonder,
The insane wander taking statistics,
Of how well spread the neutering of groins and loins are,
In condos condoms burst in explosive merry,
Who will tell this like it is,
That the perjury of human health,
Is the mockery of brotherhood,
That the mourner is the killer,
Shame has none this demon,
That abrogates to his bloated ego the authorship of life,
But whether felled by the engineered virus,
Or by the starvations of canned wars,
Or even old age and natural process,
The end for the propagator and recipient is one.
The stillness that brooks no disturbance,
Marking an end to all.


They say sin is sweet,
A claim by an ecstatic drunk,
Sampling stolen favors from across the fence,
Over caviar and mature wine,
Dreams take on life and mirage shakes the pillars of the canopied beds,
Wet lips and wetter valleys,
A tree bows to drink deep into the ocean,
With its eye open and senses closed,
A rhythm of death footsteps follow,
Sounds shut up and grunts sharpen the marathon,
The tax payer calls the roll of positives,
A negative would have sounded better this time,
You run to hide the history,
Deleting the memory and trashing it in the bin,
Life has tagged you with a viral load,
They have a catchy rhyme called CD4 that means nothing in the dictionary,
Attitude comes in handy when the sky’s come down,
Rejection is real and affection in short supply,
You must live if you must survive,
Every morning greets you with a frowning reminder of where you are,
Which is nowhere since culture has condemned you,
Nowhere at all since a condition has marked you,
Whether on meds western or eastern, you must eat right,
To fall is to be human,
To remain fallen is to stay foolish,
No one owes you life but the giver,
Rise up or down you go,
Stay focused or down the drain you go,
It matters not how this disease you got,
It matters all that you rise with all you have,
HIV/AIDS is real,
You either fight it to live or give up and drop.


ALOYODIN AYODEJI was born in 06/6/2002.His first poem ‘The fall of Africa’ came second place in the New man movement contest.
He resides in the southwestern part of Nigeria and his work opposes corruption, child soldiers,bloody revolutions,ethnic strife and the beauty of nature

The rampaging manticore
To the north south of the Mediterranean
Nature present to her the abode of Alaadin mines
Infuriated by the public show warlocks brewing cauldrons spew
devious verses conjuring a beast to ransack
The rich mines and annex the mindframe of every native.

The beast is a rampaging manticore
A virtuoso greater than Paganini
with diverse playing styles
Seduces the prey to the ballroom and it’s echoing vibrato resounds
like a skilled drummer on the gongo in fetish ancestral squares.

He is a manticore that strums the mandolin as
the men in black captivated by his dazzling dexterity
fall in love with his Trojan stallion.
Pledging allegiance to a beast and his caprice
they embark on a witch hunt
persecution of Cassandras shredding
the fragile strand of life from their ripening hearts and
purging the land of the voice of justice.

Filled with unquenched ambition it
is a glamorous courtier in the court of power.
It principles lethal than Machiavelli’s legacy
salvaging threats of justice with injustice.
It reward for it’s kabals are festive Versailles
forged from the mite of peasants.

The Manticore laughs in derision
as its position is established bobbling in
drunkenness it slashes tranquillity with the Excalibur of impunity
as it continues to carve and forge it mark on history
propounding a new ideology of kabalocracy.

*gongo- An indigenous musical instrument from the Yoruba race.
*Excalibur-sword of the legendary Prince Arthur forged from dragon’s breath
*Cassandra- a seer in Greek mythology whose prophecies were continually ignored.
* Paganini- A notable virtuoso in playing the violin.
* Versailles- A beautiful palace of LouisXIV built from the treasury of the empire.

Poem summary

The poem relates corruption to a feared lethal monster a product of the imagination of human mind and delusions of the 16th century. This monster possesses enhanced human intelligence and viscous cannibalistic tendency. The monster was forged from western expansionist policies.Through the poem the other disciples in this conspiracy of corruption are implicated.

of the unstable administration
Lies the cartel of kabals
the rapacious swine of gourmands drunk
In the nectar of flowing honey from the crust

Veiled in dominoes of animosity,
and woven tapestries of debauchery.
They wield the sceptre of autonomy.

Con artist in their grand fashion
they maneuver the presiding ageis
of supremacy in Cleopatric recipe
with their root entwined in the varied
spectrum of command.

Carving the fate of the nation
they are godfathers,kingmakers
reveling in ecstasy as they
sprout arenas to enrich the circus
coddling the crowns to fight terrorism.

Poem summary,
In the heart of the unstable administration
Lies the cartel of kabals
the rapacious swine of gourmands drunk
In the nectar of flowing honey from the crust

Veiled in dominoes of animosity,
and woven tapestries of debauchery.
They wield the sceptre of autonomy.

Con artist in their grand fashion
they maneuver the presiding ageis
of supremacy in Cleopatric recipe
with their root entwined in the varied
spectrum of command.

Carving the fate of the nation
they are godfathers,kingmakers
reveling in ecstasy as they
sprout arenas to enrich the circus
coddling the crowns to fight terrorism.

Poem summary
The poem display the involvement of a secretive sect composed ofen of men of affluence that set in motion the various trends of events occurring in the nation.


NGAM EMMANUEL BEYIA, Cameroonian born is poet, educationist, and an advocate of socio-political change. His writings address various issues and every reader is likely to find one that suits their interest. His works have been published in magazines and anthologies the world over. He has also received numerous awards of recognition
He studied in THE UNIVERSITY OF YAOUNDE 1, Cameroon, where he obtained BA in French and English. He then enrolled into Higher Teachers Training College, graduated with a bilingual diploma. Upon graduation has been teaching in local High schools in English speaking Cameroon.


Gazillions wallow in crammed slums
in swampy mosquitoes infested suburbs
Pernicious politicians ride limousines
thieves of hard earned tax payer’s money,
who daily lower loved ones into public selpuchres

Numbers of deaths also skyrocket
Malaria poverty, HIV/AIDS prevalence
paradoxically still a bane in society
After all is sex entertainment not food
for the very unemployed wretched?
What else can they do when wealth grabbers
go out swimming or go dancing in nightclubs
flood casinos ,cinemas and parks to recreat
in theclavish company of sweet teens?
When heartless men stare on with cruel
indifference , watering cans in hands
while downtrodden are consumed by flames
of poverty, unemployment, diseases ?
When hyenas strike strategic alliances across
borders to fight these bêtes noires instead
siphon aid into private pockets.?

Come ,see drama of pain and misery in slumps
No one cares for their cries and tears
orphans stigmatized , bullied, isolated
Shut out of schools, abandoned
to fend for themselves
Barred from education
and descent medical care
Deprived from society’s love,
care and protection
Let’s unite voices against
legacy of corrupt tyrannies
Against stigma on all children
and adults , HIV/AIDS positive.

Ngam Emmanuel copyright reserved 10-12-18


Blue sky is smiling above
Let not fears turn it grey
HIV/AIDS doesn’t make us monsters
Handshake and hugs doesn’t transmit virus
Why do you run fronm one another?
Victims must be embraced with love
If you are sero- positive be not terrified
HIV is no longer number one killer
Early diagnosis is power
Do you know more die of stigma than virus?
killing stigma is beginning of cure
Bitterness slows down progress
Keep this behind, its all poison
This virus knows no heroes
Everyone is a candidate
Go for HIV screening
If unaffected, stick your
head out of sand and say
” It won’t happen to me”
Show affection to victims
Criminalizing them
is fueling epidemic
Stay safe and live safe


Sunny day, sun heat stroke
I fell, head split open as l passed out
precious crimson splashed in oodles
Emergency transfusion in urgency done

Weeks later tested positive, contaminated
by transfused blood, when news was broken ,
l swooned, revived in reanimation. My life changed
abrupt, as if my lights had been switched off

Spell of long weary nights had just begun
Fear of been ostracized almost choked me
stigmatized, l married drugs and pills to escape
taunted and haunted, gnawed by depression

Beguiled, mocked and abandoned by friends
Labeled homosexual and drug addict,
streets l avoided, ashamed of my status
Why did this happen only to me? In tears I wondered

I was not hot panted nor did l visit brothels , fate ,
doctor’s negligence sapped my light life’s hope and aspirations
I Soon learnt that HIV/ AIDS had no heroes and didn’t who to infect
Living positive was the lone anodyne, and wasn’t not a life sentenced
I have kept head out of water, taken
my drugs, had support from a caring family.
Refused to be dictated when I’ll die or when I’ll live
I have kept the virus deep asleep living positively.


PATRICK KAMAUis a graduate in literature and special education from Kenyatta University. He hails from Murang’a County in Kenya. Currently he is a special education teacher. Kamau loves reading, making friends and writing poetry. His dream is to publish an anthology in collaboration with other likeminded poets


Our society is pricked
Pain that ravages
Non has been spared
A bush fire that widely spreads
All facets bleeds the scars.

Mother Africa’s siblings maimed
A deadly wind that blows
Uprooting the young and aged
The knaves and the elites
A flood that sweeps all.

We hear that it was invented
In the holy laboratories
Is it East or west?
A Nobel laureate imagination?
A ravenous ogre that kills.

Little one take the tabs
Eat and eat well
Mother Africa needs You
You shall live for tomorrow
Hope to see your siblings
Fight for your rights
Let non lower the esteem
For H.I.V is not death
A needle pricking the society.

DR SADUQULLAH KHAN is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan.)


Let me ponder, sea high, sky deep
Barren solace, O child,
That I see an emaciated bone,
Coated in the color of skin, feathered
The raven’s hair of dark.
Host of Saracens, dealers in flesh
Chained corpses dragged in sand
Make walls against the ocean, so cheap.
Bought abundance, Bible’s page
And in the mud shrines, in spirits,
Africa, your sons, were none the worth,
But an enchanted freedom
Sung by the choral appetites of mothers,
By fathers systematically defeated
By disease and famine. O rich continent,
For you could feed the hungry world,
Or roaring lions, tropical rains,
Ride the tall giraffe, be wings of parrot,
And play the sandy dunes
Bare soles, or walk the grandeur
Of the chieftain’s cotton, whitened.
O your ivory, poached,
But your soul alight in the eloquence,
Eyes speak seldom, heart throbs rare.
My untouchable corpse
O divine befells, curses left,
Dragging me through the lines on the map,
A play in the hands, heavy fat,
Black with white rings, and strings.
I shall crawl from the captivity
Of your galleon, to a wide open shore.

-To the children of Africa

Courtesy: My friend Taiwo Soyebo


The African Children’s Choir is a large choir made up of children ages 7 to 12 from several African nations. Since its inception, the choir has included children from Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, South Africa, Nigeria, and Ghana. Many of the children have lost one or both parents to AIDS and other poverty-related diseases, and all of them are victims of extreme poverty.

African Children’s Choir Picture @ Wikimedia Commons


ABOUT BRAVE VOICES POETRY JOURNAL– It is the mouth piece of the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign where the protest , resistant and resilient voices provoke the Zimbabwean and African leadership to realize that their role is to serve the masses equally and fairy .It is a platform where Brave Voices and Solidarity Voices express the feelings , the emotions , the pains and suffering of the people through poetry and Flash fiction. Contact the Curator/EDITOR of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal Mbizo Chirasha at , post on MiomboPublishing Facebook Group or inbox the Curator on Messenger.



EDITOR /CURATOR MBIZO CHIRASHA Recipient of PEN Deutschland Exiled Writer Grant (2017) Literary Arts Projects Curator, Writer in Residence, Blogs Publisher, Arts for Human Rights/Peace Activism Catalyst, Social Media Publicist and Internationally Anthologized Writer, 2017 African Partner of the International Human Rights Arts Festival Exiled in Africa Program in New York.2017 Grantee of the EU- Horn of Africa Defend Human Rights Defenders Protection Fund. Resident Curator of 100 Thousand Poets for Peace-Zimbabwe, Originator of Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Movement. African Contributor to the Table of Words Demer Press International Poetry anthology edited by Hannie Rouweler in Netherlands. Solidarity Member of Global Alliance for Politics and Arts. African Participant to the 2014-2020 World Poetry Almanac Anthologies series in Mongolia edited by Hadaa Sendoo. Co-Editor of German Africa Bilingual Collection with German International Translator Andreas Weiland in 2016 (

Mbizo Chirasha. Miombo Publishing Header Image. a publishing platform for young and EXPERIENCED fiction writers



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