Poetry Bulawayo

So many words, Yet no truth in them So much truth Not loud enough for a soul to hear So many things I should have said But I refrained I opened my mouth to speak But the truth choked me And words were wedged in my throat I shut my mouth to hold back words untrue But in impulse they did tumble out All the things I never mearnt to Shrill and absolute have I said All what I said was, is not in the least All what I mentioned not, is and has been In senseless defense I uttered words of vanity With words of sham I charted my course And made approved what was not My heart laments the deceit in my words and in repentance I make known Truths that lay shrouded in the depths of my soul By layer upon layer of secrets and lies and hatchets concealed in intution With the motive to shield The truth that could wound those I cherish Yet  it would set me free Hence I will hold back no more

An undefined hole A deep meaningless soul I look at a stranger in this pool This pool of an all too familiar dream A dream of that Companion’s rule Rule over me creature of eve Torture me with that confusing whip That scratches an itch a cant reach alone My lonely heart sings In black tones that the audience see That causes stars to collide Vision dissolves and evaporates in this sunshine A heart in this desert without shade I’m a hole though I know the one for whom I thirst I dream for that creature of eve Torture one with that pleasing whip This deafening noise of the heart makes too much sense to me. (c) Cecil Gumbi

All the things I've seen and heard All the things I've perceived and felt All the things that are That I wish were not But my wishes will not make them not Do wishes come true? All the pain I kept inside All the silence I held onto When I would have said so much All the words I held back As though I held my peace For, what peace is there? When there is so much to be said That remains unsaid (c) Thandeka Gonde 2009

Image - lauracohenphotography.com   He misses her the love of his life But he is here and I am not with him How could he be When his heart aches for her She is away But with him In his thoughts and in his heart It’s me he married For the baby he did it honourable man I think of letting him go free him Let him fly to his soul mate But then A slice of a great man Is better than a loaf of an average man This is the burden I will always carry Knowing He will always be here But I will never be with him.

Positive's always overidden by negative Beauty never lasts Pleasure is momentary Why should love be everlasting? If it be positive, it sure does sour; for it exists not in a vacuum Dawn proceeds - lighting the world Birds wake to celebrate Praising the rise of yet another day And at the melody - the bright sunshine smiles on, warming the world. Dew drops - flower buds pop open Colouring the world. Light, music, warmth and colour Is it not all beauty But such becomes too much for the negative force And darkness hastily shades everything Does not the kangaroo keep her joey safe and warm in her pocket? Does not the gull feed her chicks from the nest? Does not the cheetah show her cubs how to hunt? Does not the zebra foal lean on his mother to balance the wobbly legs? What but undying love could such gestures be called? But close by - lingers the negative force Death in the hands of an enemy for the young cub Death - to blight all the affection Love exists no...

I am too imperfect to stand in thy presence I don't have any right to question thy ways your will goes But sometimes I shake my heard in frustration and aske why? I am too much of a sinner to understand how you do things But sometimes  I ask why didn't it go this way or that way My way What do i know about I only wait for your guidence Which i know won't lead me astray But sometimes lost and confused I ask where is the damn guidence? I understand why I don't have a mountain of bread But surely a few crumbs won't do me harm Sometimes it's all I ask for In frustration I sometimes say Where are the damn crumbs? But then what do I know about life bread and crumbs?

You promised to be there,take care of my every need,i have a need to be hugged and held so tight its a physical pain to breath. You would provide for me you said,i hunger for all that i know you take for granted,feed my soul. Everything hugs my body like a second skin,most of it is gone torn,proof of how many years have gone by,clothe the body that is at war with the soul. The children of the cloud have no mercy on my tired body,constantly i am washed clean and reborn to the world.Mostly i face the earth as a creature belonging to the sea instead of the land,even the wind laughs at me as she carrys me left right and center.Shelter just my head under your wing,dont let them get a glimpse of my nakedess. Can't you see that you neglect me!Who else will take me in if you close your eyes like you didnt see me right now walking beside you.You are my mother,my brother,sister,friend granparent but i glare into your eyes as an enermy ready for battle.Thats my life daily nothing else...

Image - entertainment.ezinemark.com Inspired by Lloyd Rodson’s ME LIPS KAARN GETA STIFFY I can forget about you if you get rid of your booty butt your oversize night shift night duty butt your bouncy butt your bubbly butt your busy butt your nightclubbing butt your swinging swimming butt your butty butt swishing your blue-nickered butt your houseboat butt your badge bodice butt your boastful butt in a let’s - sit butt and screw butt moment let’s bump and bump till we…. till the butt…till it… your butt on my pillow butt your manager’s special butt your unity government butt your batty butt buttered with buttercup margarine your let’s meet in town butt when? Tomorrow your South African Rand versus the US $ your real butt; your spacious – overdose butt your stupid idiot butt silly selfless selfish butt your umh! Ah! Butt your teacher pupil butt sitting writing on the chalkboard your butt on your sofa watching TV your newsful butt of Botswana ...

We live in the Eastern Suburbs With each of us owning More than one mansion We drive posh cars And own factories Money is not a problem We live luxury The Western inhabitants Are our slaves They work for us In the scorching sun Yet we pay them peanuts They hardly manage to live But we want them at work Because they maintain our happiness We treat them as we please And give them no time to rest They strive and starve From morning to dusk Tired and hungry they Drag themselves to their lodgings While us – the top class Drive ourselves to our triple stories We enjoy and they suffer They have no choice Because We are the bosses © Tendai Nhema 2009

After the war on HIV is finally over After Sudan Palestine…have seized to become war zones After the homeless have been sheltered and fed After there is total freedom of speech and expression After every person every country no matter how small and weak determines it’s own destiny After the need for nuclear weapons is long past After hills caves and mountainsides seize to harbor terrorists determined to shed blood and kill for various bogus causes After rape murder and robbery are only referred to in history texts. © mgcini nyoni 2009

The political program was not right Poor people pouted, but were pounded hard And were too hungry to put up a fight But were brave to lament over their dream marred Painfully, months witnessed their falling tears As boarded country buses in town And almost biting each other’s ears Much to the delight of one with the crown Who sat and ate all the pie in the house While the rest pushed for the crumbs on the floor Like desperate, but resolute mouse Eyeing Watching Gnawing – ready to glow Coherent cries kept them coming to queues From Cape to Kadoma to brew their cures © Pentecost Mathe 2009

Its him Romeo His girlfriend from six months ago who is pregnant His girlfriend from two months ago In his cabin His phone is off He missed his date with his girl from three months ago. They are all crying because the girlfriend from six months ago the one who is pregnant Said something About THE NEW START CENTRE

Why is black black? Why is black associated with death? Why is black the last journey from earth? Why should black be the symbol of a curse? Why should black be deadliest snake? Are we the blackest black? How black is black Sunday? How black is black listed? How black is black market? How black is black mamba? How black is black widow? How black is black magic? How black is the black devil ? How black is the black temple? How black is the blackest black man? How white is white snow? How white is the white white wedding? How white is the white collar? How white is the white milk? How white is the whitest white man? Are we the black and cursed? Are we the closest to the devil? Are we the bearers of the curse of Ham? Are we the prodigal sons? Are we the worser half of light? Are we born for slavery? Are we born to be misgoverned? Are we born for dictactorship? Are we born for violence? How blackest is the black?

BEAUTIFUL WOMEN Meditation and disciplining Combine practical ‘hows’ With thoughtful ‘whys’ As they rapture in excitement So does the beautiful women Their beauty does not come From the outside only But combine both outside and inside To make their faces glow and glitter With beauty even in times of trouble Commitment and dignity makes them Enjoy to love and be loved Gives them hope to face any challenges Hope to fulfil their dreams and ambitions As their hearts are peaceful They have no time for gossip And eavesdropping Materialism like most To the extent of selling their beautiful bodies But they have time only To accomplish their mission As beautiful women.

THE TOWN CRIER Here arrives the town crier With interesting tales to tell News from near and far Stories true and false New and old The menu list is brought to the table Before meal starts to enable Tragedies Romance Comedies To be discussed at length Some spiced up by the strength Of a pinch of salt Praises Disapproval Fault All served to your satisfaction If you think you can handle the risks Do come aboard But get ready for the bills And stay alert In case you get stung by the bees For you can never trust the town crier’s tales. © Fortunate Nyahwema 2009

CORPORATE RUNS She wears to attract Clothes more revealing Than concealing Do the talking And he responds By waving car keys And displaying his money This signals the agreement Cooperation unlocks the doors Of their game And they use what they have To get what they want It is survival They claim They chose to call Corporate Runs © Tendai Nhema 2009

Should I or should I not Open the doors of my heart And let him dwell in my soul, And follow his commands? Should I accept this person And let him be the light When I am in darkness? Should I let him comfort me When I am in sorrow? Should I let him Pave the way for me to a brighter future? Or should I close The doors of my heart And him knock until he gives up Should I ignore him And follow the route of the devil And be led to hell? Should I or should I not? © Tendai Nhema 2009

He across the street up and down he went roaming the death streets He never saw it coming

Times I begin to wonder And the feeling within grows fonder But noone has tried to conquer What lies beneath this border As It grows, it stands for itsself No need for any shoulder Without it I aint bolder But it taught me to be a soldier Some came, some come Some still enjoying the doll-drums of the see-saw Some left with words unspoken Still feeling the beat of love inside For one has no life wothout hope Coz has sunk in the world of no love.

TROUBLED How could this be? Am I the only one? Or I am the only sinner on the face of the earth Why do things take this path? Or is it the only path I regret the day I regret the minute I opened my mouth to ask her out After giving her everything she does nothing But spit on my face After giving her attention she does everything to break my beloved heart After years of service A letter of dismissal is what I get Nothing to my name It’s just me and my belongings in a box No matter how much I try trouble always finds its way to me After sowing a thousand seeds In deep trouble I am Where under the sun am I going to get money for my next meal. © Alec Noko Kitumetsi

I sing a song for the lovers kissing and cuddling in the park It might not last forever or it might So I sing a song I sing a song for the young prostitute her life might change and she perhaps won’t cry a river every night So I sing a song I sing a song for the children playing and screaming in the dusty street ecstatic in their youthful innocence They should enjoy it while it lasts I sing a song for the wife enjoying orgasm for the first time after ten years of marriage there is always light at the end of the tunnel So I sing a song I sing a song for the pregnant teenager Perhaps she is carrying the country’s next president perhaps he won’t be a tyrant So I sing a song I sing a song for the old lady roasting nuts and maize by the roadside to feed AIDS orphans So we can say YES WE CAN So I sing a song I sing a song for the flowers in bloom the singing birds- reminding us to smile and be happy once in a while I sing a song for the s...