My Life By Michael Lee Johnson

My life began with a skeleton 

with a smile and bubbling eyes

in my garden of dandelions.

Everything else fell off the edge,

a jigsaw puzzle piece cut in half.

When young, I pressed

against my mother’s breast,

but youthful memories fell short.

I tried at 8 to kiss my father, 

but he was a welder, fox hunter,

coon hunter, and voyeuristic man.

My young life was a mixture

of black, white, dark dreams,

and mellow yellow sun bright hopes.

Rewind, sunshine was a stranger

in dandelion fields,

shadows in my eyes.

I grabbed my injured legs

leap forward into the future.

I’m now a vitamin C boy

it keeps me immured

from catching colds or Covid-19.

Everything now still leaks, in parts,

but I press forward.

 

 

My Hero by Skaps The Advocate

Our journey has not been a smooth journey

Its never been sweet and rosey

Its been Bumpy and full of  storms

With a patient and loving driver

She is my hero

She is my mother

Swollen feet and High blood pressure

Unpredictable and unreasonable cravings

Supercharged moods and happy moments

A burgeoning tummy

You carried me nine months

Of sicknesses and no medication

You are my hero

You are my mother

In celebrating you

I celebrate your love

I celebrate your bravery

I celebrate your patience

Mama to show me the way

You would slap my right cheek

Cane me when angry but with great love

You could punish me

To give direction not to hurt me

How I wish I could do the same to my Norma

I can only watch and say stop it

We have been schooled and colonised  by the west

Mama you toiled

Worked hard and you still do

For me and my siblings you never rested

For us to have the precious meal on our table

From changing my diapers to my life coach

Mama you my hero

Mama i toiled worked my fingers out

Worked in the fields before and from school

As a child I saw a wicked and abusive mother

The western culture sees child labour

As an adult now I see a great teacher in you

You trained a winner

I love you mama

Mama you my hero

Now it’s the time

The time you sit down

Sit and be served like a queen

Take off the apron

It's the time I toil and put food on your table

Its time I changed your torn and patched wardrobe

From a servant to a queen

Mama you my hero

I love you 

Freedom by Zee Nyathi

You’re too mortal to understand

Why, I -

With this body

You call ’to die for ’

Still choose not to bandage my limbs

Or cripple my soul.

I dress the way I do

Not because of fashion deformity.

If it wasn't against the law,

I would walk naked

But I understand,

Ragged chic, Bohemian chic

Is as close I will ever get to Eden!

My being is expression

of freedom & spirituality.

The Overdue Letter by Matewe Dumisani Albert

I don’t eat chicken, may you please give me a job

Electricity, water and proper health care system

Oh! and papa this poem is too small for everything I need

But we can start with the ones that I mentioned

I do work and go to school simultaneously

Who said only women are good at multitasking?

As old as I am, which other future for me is in preparation?

Or you just want to boost up my tension?

Ngazviende!!! Hatizvide!!! Zvii zvacho?

Will this war cry make everyone else feel macho?

How do I succeed with?

Nothing else is selfish than a croc

If you can hear us, we are down here

The people you stepped on climbing up there

Do you know what happens when your time is up to be again down here?

You need the same people to step on from up there

I am claustrophobic, from this shell how do I penetrate?

I mean like at one point I thought Zimbabwe was lit

Before we faced this bottomless pit

Young Couple @ Heart Attack Greasy Grill by Michael Lee Johnson

I was a little boy,

tad hillbilly son,

patterned then in

present tense,

hardly old enough

tall enough to work

nor notice if I had pubic hair-

large or small endowment

growing up self-conscious

about short comings

narrow chest.

Just a teen aged nighttime boy

looking 4 a part-time hook up-

little girl play, with a five-card stud.

Preacher daddy raised me,

back-seat Christian boy

low on faith high on doobie

rolled cigarettes.

I took my 1st job, pancake flipper

@ Heart Attack–Greasy Grill, 24-7

pocket coins 4 tips, a few greasy dollars,

pancake short stack, secret menu was that

boss’s daughter, blood on hands,

my bun busted now stale, stained, & baked.

Eliminate lines unessential:

waitress injected me some spice

old time recipe.

The Next One by Holly Day

Image - https://13isyourluckynumber.wordpress.com/

she rolls over and sighs in her sleep

a song of distant cherubs

such a tiny, slight sound

the sound of the sun rising.

she reaches for me

instinctively

slips soft hands into

my worn palms, fingers that feel

too old.

She Likes to Hurt Me by Robert Beveridge

Image - http://mytravelsmylife.blogspot.com/2010/03/man-and-dog.html

She called

on what would have been

our anniversary

to say

that she and her pusher

are getting married

on what would have been

our wedding day

so I told her

even if it wasn't true

I eloped

with her dog

and we had bought

a house in Tijuana

and we would never

even send her a postcard

The Infirm by Natasha Chebet Mutai

I can’t feel the pain anymore

The monster is no more

But the trauma is in yet

His cold grip of iron squeezes

Tears cascade down my visage

I’m sad beyond salvage

Destroyed

Worn out

I saw him

He winked

I squeaked

As he shortened the distance

I suffered to elongate it

I turned,

Ran…. skipped puddles in the rain

But when I turned,

His yellow tainted canines

Black with rot at the gums

Were right behind me

The grin spelt death

As he let out a cold breath

I shuddered at his mere sight

I froze as his hand rose

He grabbed me

Wrestled me to the ground

And there I lay before him

His unsated hunger

Dangerous lust

And deep-rooted libido

Etching dangerously in his eyes

His touch as cold as ice

Like the crawls of a thousand mice

Then came the pain so excruciating

The unbearable torture

His was no excursion

Only lust that was poison

Naked

Stranded

Branded and paraded

Rendered valueless

Useless

Helpless!

I still feel the pain

Too painful to measure

My priceless body tortured

Humiliated and dismantled

For his pleasure

All for his gain

I can’t find the innocence

In my dreams I feel his presence

Was it of any essence?

 I see my blood

As it flowed

The tears fell

My cries hitting solid wall

And now-

Now to love I must

This destroyed body

Still shaken

No hope

Yet he is all over

Free as a bird

While I am caged

In the memory of his injustice

I’m to nothing

I live because I survived

I speak because I exist

I am Khanga by Khwezi

I wrap myself around the curvaceous bodies of women all over Africa

I am the perfect nightdress on those hot African nights

The ideal attire for household chores

I secure babies happily on their mother’s backs

Am the perfect gift for new bride and new mother alike

Armed with proverbs, I am vehicle for communication between women

I exist for the comfort and convenience of a woman

But no no no make no mistake …

I am not here to please a man

And I certainly am not a seductress

Please don’t use me as an excuse to rape

Don’t hide behind me when you choose to abuse

You see

That’s what he said my Malume

The man who called himself my daddy’s best friend

Shared a cell with him on [Robben] Island for ten whole years

He said I wanted it

That my khanga said it

That with it I lured him to my bed

That with it I want you is what I said

But what about the NO I uttered with my mouth

Not once but twice

And the please no I said with my body

What about the tear that ran down my face as I lay stiff with shock

In what sick world is that sex

In what sick world is that consent

The same world where the rapist becomes the victim

The same world where I become the bitch that must burn

The same world where I am forced into exile because I spoke out?

This is NOT my world

I reject that world

My world is a world where fathers protect and don’t rape

My world is a world where a woman can speak out

Without fear for her safety

My world is a world where no one, but no one is above the law

My world is a world where sex is pleasurable not painful

Edict to Africa by Sibonokuhle Ndhlovu-Ncube

 

Image -

http://www.anglo-sanye.com/images/africa_gold.jpg

Land that hid the King of Kings, Selah

Plundered of many yet undiminished

Your frenemies have been unmasked!

Their conundrum on invocations will no longer confuse you

With prescience, let your leaders arise

Let them rule justly under delegation and reverence of the Almighty;

For it can no longer be the blood of liberation that rules

But that of the One whose blood speaks better things than that of Abel!

Let the King return to his throne

Let the King of glory return to his throne!

Then ancient gates will break asunder, ancient principalities

Demoted from your spiritual gates;

Land that hid the King of Kings

And gave the shoulder of Simon to bear the cursed cross;

Liberated from man but subject to God –

Cattle on a thousand hills belong to Him;

You have been given Cape to Cairo and the world to feed all, for all!

Beneficiation, appropriation, sustainable development, accountability,

Ubuntu, let all anthems ring – after having done all look to your king and live!

May God forgive and bless our land.