Thursday, March 10, 2011

Some Kinds Of Blessings by Gracian W. Masiyiwa

The blessed have no lips and tongues
and never get misquoted
If they use signs
They are quickly forgiven
For each gathering is a minefield
Each question a booby-trap,
As manna falls from wrong heaven

Blessed are the blind,
As judgement is not by sight
They think all are beautiful
And don’t judge by height
Although they doubt, if
friend didn’t grab double-portion
Of that sweetest cake

The blessed lived among scorpions
And got wisdom in time
Not to lead or follow
To ditch the sight and fright
Sting and bite, backbite called sting
Whether friend or foe
They surely learn to fly

Blessed are the dump, the daft
For they are last to know
Who laughed at, or with them
They surely inhabit their own heaven
And piece-meal,
they gather their pieces of peace
Unaware of the toxic artwork,
Scribed on backs of their jackets
As  they sat and drool

The blessed are drunk with patience
Giggling in pain when hope is abused,
and scream with joy
Collecting  bowls of hail,
Near  the cave of a thousand chameleons
Praising long gone angels
For the sugar that Sheol poisoned
Blessings of some kind
But Holy heaven is in tears

Monday, March 7, 2011

Zimbabwe by Donal Mahoney

From shimmering oil
of ebony still

will come flailing of limbs
will come hacking

quick slashing
of hands now untied

tattooing no pattern
not even a maze

depriving gray walls
of their stone

will come spittle
wild churning rivers

agush from slack jaws
of blanching gray hounds

till one day at dawn 
will come quiet