Thursday, September 23, 2010

Depleted Mine by Lilian Dube





Living these lives, we let this wind
Do what it knows best
This dry African breeze
Blowing through our souls
Fanning the dying flames within
We mourn what we desire
But never will have-

We sit within this earthen cavity
Of an ageing mine
The prospectors have
Wept their farewell & gone
We know nothing-
But how to conjure flecks
Of gold in the thick air
Building upon swampy odor
Illusions of a future
Forgeries of the past…

Murmuring to our selves
We form on this mine’s dust,
With our chapped fingers,
Stars as those adorning
Our Eternally Sunless sky
 Dazzling as the yonder
Glorious kingdoms, whose songs
We hear enviously, at night
From a gaping distance, haunting…

The sun rises on the pure
& bloodstained alike
How pure is funeral song?
How red is Ceaser’s throne?
Be it crimson
in the reign of the deranged?
These rotting pillars of the continent!

Baobabs, trunks
That glimmer silver at night
 Yet pulps fermenting
trees hollow inside…

Our backs have been forever
Bent, weighed down
&so we sit here, our hearts
Hung on naked branches
To be numbed by a winter’s
Cold , wet wind-
Yet dreams shall last forever
&evermore: Of all the
Tarnished silver
& of all the gone gold.

Marital Please by Herbert Moyo

At first i chose to regard the rumours
As nothing more than benign tumors
Of the kind that is bound to fizzle
Like an early morning summer drizzle
But then people talked
Everywhere I walked-
Those women with huge breasts
And the men with hairy chests
Even the usually quiet relatives
Began to speak in banal superlatives,
Comparatives and all kinds of pejoratives
And so the the stories flowed and flowered
Why not when they were all powered
By the sweet waters from the well of  gossip
It was like everyone in the whole township
Had taken one giant sip
And filled to the deep
It was one hell of a show
Put up by that relentless flow
This long flashback
Puts me on the track
To relieve the past
Nobody ever forgets a cast
With such an all-star feature...

Maybe by Mthabisi Phili


Maybe i want to love you
maybe you don’t know the length of my imagination
maybe you should let the love and smile of our faces unwrap like a sweet
maybe you ought to let go a little!
maybe its about your terms maybe mine maybe
acquaintances and terms don’t matter! Maybe it’s also about how i feel
maybe its also about how i feel…

Some Of Us by Patrick Hwande


Some of us are plastic plates
Soiled by hungry sojourners
And thrown through the window

Some of us are condoms
Treasured before the job
Discarded after gratification

Some of us are endangered species
For freedom we beseech
Not guaranteed is freedom after speech

some of us are boulders
used, abused by Witty Hares 
To sink into oblivion soon after crossing

Things Fall Apart by Mercy Dhliwayo


THINGS FALL APART
As THE DAVIL ON THE CROSS with his own @ heart
Masquerades as A MAN OF THE PEOPLE
Though simple
Blind eyes can see the PETALS OF BLOOD
Hung UNDER THE (his) TONGUE
The child of NEHANDA is NO LONGER AT
EASE in these lands of SHADOWS and BONES
But we keep on WAITING FOR THE RAIN
To cleans THE FLOODS of the blood spilled
when ANCESTORS have long predicted
THE COMING OF THE DRY SEASON


THE LION AND THE JEWEL
the lion and his jewel are STILL GRAZING
whem the SECOND CLASS CITIZEN and no class citizen
are sentenced to eternal days in the HOUSE OF HUNGER,
with their empty bellies grumbling sounds of thunder
as they hold TALKS WITH THE SUN, pleading for new SUNS
OF INDEPENDENCE to fall over this dark SHADOW ON THE WALL


CRY THE BELOVED COUNTRY: cry my beloved country
for yours is still A LONG WALK TO FREEDOM


Stuck IN THE DITCH of HOPES AND IMPEDIMENTS with
Defunct hopes and dreams
The SLAVE GIRL and the DARK CHILD
sit on the ANTHILL OF SAVANA in winter’s cold
watching THE SETTING SUN AND THE RALLING WORLD
go through its many phases wondering when the ARROW OF GOD
will strike and bring about the much needed changes


WEEP NOT CHILD for the ides of Match are at hand
No longer will THE VOICE of the black child be silenced
And his home and only means of survival be destroyed
all IN THE NAME OF AMANDLA
A GRAIN OF WHEAT is all it takes to CROSS THE RIVER
BETWEEN and reach our collective dream
Even in these NERVOUS CONDITIONS
THE BLACK INSIDER refuses to
be stuck in this CIMETRY OF MIND


The REDHILLS OF HOME boiling inside
And will soon erupt with an effect so wide
Down UHURU STREET the BLACK INSIDER will march
On his feet Chanting and singing, not the SONG OF LAWINO nor the
SONG OF OCOL but the UNSUNG SONG of freedom for all
For GODS BITS OF HOOD will no longer be
DETAINED

This Village by Bhekumusa Moyo


Do not think
Do not talk
Sh!!

Do not try to be brave
You will go to the grave
Sh!!

You are all his people
when he says "My people"
Nod your heads only
When he kills your people
Cry only
Sh!!

Uncle by Clemence Chinyani

He had a dirty look,
And spoke like Charlie Brown,
He loved her because,
She looked like Nancy Drew,
I don’t know what’s with me and people’s names,
But I love the sound of them anyway,
Forgive me if you are the one,
 I am speaking about my uncle Chino,
Who loved the pretty Sithembi,
Because she was young he said she was tender,
And so befitted the object of his lust,
To sleep with her he wanted just,
To prove his worth to all who watched,
His debacle and conquest,
Mixed in one pot of joy,
That was to bring about his demise,
We thought it was cool,
Lilly thought it was the life,
When they made her his wife,
But she almost used the knife,
To end her miserable existence,
Upon finding out that he cheated.

He repeated the same act to so many damsels,
Pretty little girls with a future promising,
Some were dumb some were brilliant,
Some knew his cunningness, some did not,
Some were urged on by peers some by their mothers,
But they all fell into one dirty trap,
After falling for his dirty look,
When he thought they looked like Nancy Drew.
A smart house he had,
So beautiful and clean,
A fancy car he had, that made heads turn,
And many a sister did not pause to think,
When he asked them for a drive around,
That always ended in his fantasy bed,
Spewing the contents of his filthy heart,
The shameless virgin leaving a trail of red,
Pardon me if I have become too gross,
For what he did with his time was too folly,
And given a chance I would spank him back to life,
So that he sets straight what he did wrong,
And say “I am sorry” to Sithembi,
Natasha, Sihle, Racheal, Lilly, Nicole,
Rumbi, and other damsels,
Whose futures took cruel turns after tasting his tongue,
I am so sorry on his behalf,
And pray that God Almighty sets them right,
In His loving kindness renew their lives,
For now they know,
Once beaten,
Twice shy.
Charlie Brown and Nancy Drew,
Your names were just references.

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