Bottom Power

Bottom Power by Dzifa Benson

If you haven’t yet had a chance to catch Dzifa Benson’s red hot performance nights, read the poem, below for a taste.

Bottom Power
A backside
Floating inside
The darkside
Of a history pickled in formaldehyde
Not a Damien Hirst
Or the slaking of knowledge thirst
Of one eyed men leading blind fools
Grasping for straws in the genetic pool
This was a museum in gay Paree
And here was young Saartje
The ultimate other
Whose derriere
Was the derniere cri
Eclipsing all dimensions
Of what a pair of buttocks dared be
Caught up in the scramble for African booty
And shipped across the straits of incredulity
Branded freak, sideshow, curiosity
Baby’s back had way
Too much front
Refracted in the sweaty gaze of eurocentricity
Undulating around the sinuous figure of 8
Hips, rolling like green across the hills of the veldt
An arsenal of flesh
And fodder for fetish
They all came to relish
The drama playing out
On the curvature of her spine
Uncanny fanny
They muttered
A kyber pass
As bold as brass
They gasped
Steatopygous gluteus maximus
Heaven help us it takes no prisoners
They marvelled
Lordy, lord, lord
Her heiny surely
Must have taken out
A deposit with the almighty
They hollered
What an untidy pudendus
‘Ere what, let’s call it Venus
The show was over
But no love lost here
Save for that of one eyed men rutting for notions
Of an inferior posterior in the funnel between her thighs
Saartje loses self in the arse end of a bottle
Dying, to resurrect her highs
But then again
I see you baby
Shaking that ass
Shaking that ass
Shaking that ass fast
Whipping up a frenzy
Of peach shaped fecundity
Tail feather perched optimistically
High on your hips
Pulsating, switching, locking
Down the rhythm of Sir Mixalot’s fancy
In rump shaking
Tush wagging
Butt jiggling
Back packing
Bumper pulling
Cheek winking
Haunch rippling
Caboose stacking
Trunk junking
Earth quaking
Money making
Baaadassss kicking
Hips sways and dips
God didn’t break the mould
Shaping Beyonce round mound
Forming Kylie’s bite size
Hind quarters
Delivering the backside
That is J’Lo’s broadside
God given is reason
And ample hemispherical features
Distinguishing us from
All other living creatures
Ridiculous and sublime
Vilified and eroticised in turn
It’s the mount of all desire
But hardly the seat of all wisdom
If bum cracks are the new cleavage
And mother nature made you average
Get your ass down to Brazil
For some nip and tuck leverage
Saartje’s ass is everything like the sun
Big, bold, prominent
A celestial body rising to contour South Africa’s coast
A ledge to stand on to gaze into the face of heaven’s host