Poetry Bulawayo

I came to you with my heart, As a loving shepherd, An innocent lamb did I come; Expressing my naked thoughts, Yet you rejected me with your lips Dammed me with your eye And you cursed me with your heart; Today I come to you with gifts of lyric, A bracelet of deceit I use A ring of flattery I have used A bouquet of cacti I compliment, I clothe you in a white garment of sarcasm Much to your satisfaction, With lying lips I ornate your neck, For earrings I sting your ears with honeyed words No meaning beyond their expression- Which you have been tickled by, I crown you with a veil of irony, With a scepter of duplicity I honour, Yet you accept me: Now am I wrong to call you vein The moon came shining into my life Like a beam of light in my heart All darkness was exposed… Darkness has descended The expensive sky robbed Of her precious jewelery: The moon has gone on vacation The stars are nowhere to be seen The sun has retired to his summer villa What remains of the once colourful sky: Dark, ...

Of lived fantasies at dark spots, to the hard to remember night outs, coupled with joys and fears. Of all men met, most of whom slept. Of told passion and hurt, to the sacred doings of the bedroom, to the young, ego-full minds of trials and tests, to the cries of mothers and babies. Of times when lessons were taught, to the torrid times when help was sought. From the struggles of finding the self, to the victories of accepting what’s ours, in the company of pain and rejection. As time is a tradition, gold rings and music were the reason. Of the times where weed, locks and perforated pants of the time, became tired friends of life. Up until the gods take theirs, life still rolls in the music I sing to feel myself, in the presence of friends, in the joy that never ends Of all things done in life it’s a revelation of self. A life worth living.

Through the park I did dwell I loved a boy and loved him well He came and took my heart from me And now he wants to set me free... One day, he had a strange girl on his knee And told her things he never told me Now I understand why For she was far prettier that I... I went home straight that night and said, "Mother dear, I'm going to bed" My father came home that night He searched for me, from left to right Through my bedroom door he broke And saw me hanging from a rope... "Oh daughter dear, what have you done? You've killed yourself for one man's son" He took a knife and cut me down And on my dresser, this note was found... Dig my grave, and dig it deep Of marble stone from head to feet... And on my stone place a dove To show the world I died for love...

I go home without the charity, that I took to the city Home, I go back With hands clenched in tight fists The only thing I take back is this, Me. Electricity, I leave behind Erratic in nature Shouldn’t cause up to a day Change in time and comfort. So home I go Without water, running from a pipe Without night clubs, night life and the lights I go home, Brick walls in my background For home, with the mud walls Is my background. Right now, I stand where the tar ends the Bolekaja* stops, and the dust starts For my abode lie beyond these forests Same that bear the herbs Leaving the comfort of medical hospitals, pharmacists and their pills I heard that Baba Ewejoko*, still is alive So I shall get the necessary treatment whenever I get ill. On my way home Home of many misters, without the “Biggs” Home of the farms, where we harvest and roast yams Home of where I’ll wash my draws With the water fetched with a draw. I draw to this, my home in lines Of footprints, along this path that I follow D...

I feel great, encouraged. I feel like the master of this being, me I feel like I run my world. I feel like I am the master of my thoughts the creator of my world. I feel like I attract my achievements and non achievements. I feel like I am in control. I feel like I am rock solid. No one can bend me nor break me. No one can have me wrapped around their finger. I am mover and a shaker. I am a trend setter. I am button proof no one holds the remote of my emotions. I feel like I have found my lost self. I feel like I am a strong firm character. I feel bold, underlined and bright like a shining star. I feel good, I feel acknowledge

His grandmothers are in black Heading for the chapel Weeping no more He is not part of them- He left home &two unborn sons Five years ago Skipped the border Landed somewhere In Yewville Or was it Hillbrow? Greener pasture So green He lost himself In the dense undergrowth Apprenticing in thievery Full-time job Three other part-timers A broad hipped Pastime With a body to offer &MORE He came back Three days ago- There is he There, face up In the roughhewn Coffin that has just Bankrupted his mother-

on the absence of coffee at a coffee shop the shiny coffee-pot-glimmer provoking the scent reverberating into hungry nostrils, the man sitting outside is cursing the morning paper, beggars are on their routine check for pennies the music rides on the vibrating coffee waves-dire straits the beauty maybe not –exposes her legs with tight neat jeans that fit like fish scales, the wedding convoy passes with the pomp and noise and rush of pink and white balloons on car sides- in Bulawayo the streets are big and wide –remember the ox-drawn wagons had to turn in those long gone sunsets of the Matabeles and the Pioneer Column- in Bulawayo the streets are big three big women are learning on their cars dishing out gossip only the rich can afford, the music is beautiful and the morning is fading and and the ice cold rave of a Mercedes flashes fast past in Bulawayo the streets are big …

Lest 's exhume a man from the cemetery a well built grave awarded a proper burial, who earned one an unsung hero buried in a mass grave a feckless drunkard in an improvised grave drainage, or a makeshift grave at the backyard garden. lets exhume a man from the grave ask him how it is in the land of the dead are there springs or winters ? are there shona ? do they clap their hands preliminary to receiving things? do they remember anything? how they where scaled and burnt to death? or maybe they are white they talk to in laws hands in pockets, what components make a man when shed there is no man? is it the flesh, mind or the soul ? Let's exhume self from vile conspiracy do we have flesh, medium for sharing pain do we think of others ? lets exhume self from vengeance ask being how we live if soulless if as atrocious as death let's exhume ourselves from the grave and ask how how we live if we are dead

I loved you, and learnt to live without you! I should have followed my heart, Or that fate, But because of you, I fought it! I felt the pain of that. I listened to your voice, And made a wrong choice! When punished, you where never close, Then I saw you as a withered rose, Not much you could bring, Maybe a song of sad love, or just a kiss, Of which god would curse me for taking it!

When you stand I rise, Remember what they say, true, Members of a body, They perform in unison, Harmony is it not what it is? Yes, birds of a feather, I mean of a flock, It means the same, the creator, Made us more for the reason, There is power in many. I saw your tears, And heard your fears, This trust between us, Never has to fail to materialise, For not to claim, what we care not for. When we are together, great cities we find, Large spaces we occupy, Progress we realize, Never looking at colour, For its just a shade, Never looking at tribe, For it is only a smaller family, But looking at us as humans, Who together can stand, And hold one another’s hand, Then we will see true victory.

When you stand I rise, Remember what they say, true, Members of a body, They perform in unison, Harmony is it not what it is? Yes, birds of a feather, I mean of a flock, It means the same, the creator, Made us more for the reason, There is power in many. I saw your tears, And heard your fears, This trust between us, Never has to fail to materialise, For not to claim, what we care not for. When we are together, great cities we find, Large spaces we occupy, Progress we realize, Never looking at colour, For its just a shade, Never looking at tribe, For it is only a smaller family, But looking at us as humans, Who together can stand, And hold one another’s hand, Then we will see true victory.

Raindrops splash onto my zinc roof. The sound is magnified Like a thousand horses galloping on my roof I hold my pillow tighter and try to imagine it is you I succeed That impish grin and devilish glitter in his eyes When he took you away Like a man taking away a priceless trophy The sonnafa.... No, you wouldn’t approve of that My bed has suddenly turned into an ocean And I’m drowning in it It takes but a few moments For me to realise... The ocean is not the bed but my very own tears

We traverse her jumbled length Ever hailing corner and street totem By name, yet The city knows us not Hidden eyes follow her concrete strength In secret beds too squalid for them Can't forget The city knows us not Years we've served yet her myth Remain deeper for any to redeem Only dig in, fight The city knows us not Daily blood sacrificed upon her feet More yet will be given up for when She summons, yet This city knows us not Her name I hear is glory meant Her alias I know is murder's bane Your soul she gets This city knows us not

This is a useless poem because I hate the fact that you hate the fact that I'm in love with you... But I love tha fact that you once did... It cuts me deep, whereas, I have to drill it down to the fact that I hate tha fact that I once had you... This is a useless poem because I was once told that you gotta want something hard enough to get it... And yet, I wanted it so bad, I lost it... I always say, I don't cry 'cause I give my pen tha pleasure of flowing ink tears.... But I'm not goin' to say I've been teary eyed but I'm reaching that stage... Actually, I've reached a stage whereas I'm writing useless poems to give an act of love... But I always ask myself, why love when love hates me so much???? There's room for everything in a full heart, room for nothing in an empty one but only room for you in mine... I express myself through poetry and my emotions are neither added nor imitated... But now are rotations of what I portray myself as... Lik...

And Yes, they've written the letter for us in hieroglyphics Signed it, sealed it for us, calculated all the logistics Penned the address, some place here or there Now it's left for us to send it &Yes Ma'am we'll do it Post it but let us first add on the postscripts words that go along the lines of PS Apologies there are no full stops Lying is a continuous emulation, no punctuation These are just their words, words &words Our words go along the lines of PS Apologies even us are too young to read the language So read in between the lines, these blank spaces Our mind's confines which represent freedom &what our words cannot express... But Yes Ma'am, we'll do it, send it Even if it be to the hangman &our names be the first on the hangman's list- We'll sure do it, post it But let us first add on these postscripts With all our respect due to you....

Once upon a time Twenty of us set out to accomplish an assignment. Ten became prisoners Five were not lucky with death Three disappeared Two of us survived This is news for my commander. To the nation we would say We killed fifty rebels and captured twenty bandits. None of us were injured.

There is no poetry these days only my love for you remains there is no poetry these days the industrial workers walk on home …. there is no segregation these days even racists are seen in queues no there is no poetry these days no meat no food –even water goes on vacation there is no nothing these days only my love for you remains-

Some die before midnight in the old day, Others are born after midnight in the new day, The other will live to see many days to come, The other lived and saw many days that passed. The former never saw the beauty of yesterday, The latter will never see the gloss of today. Fortunate am I for seeing the sun rise, For I have seen the best of the two days.

If news about your coming home from the fields, Is sweet to the family, If family and work are separated by great mountains, rivers and oceans. If menus change because you are coming home, If even toddlers can tell the difference, Yet others till their fields just like you, But come home daily, And their coming makes no news. Then without you knowing it, You may have become one, A father by remote-control, A stranger in your own home. If upon arrival the kids mistaken you for their uncle, If they realize it and quickly retort, “No, daddy…,” If every-one laughs at the kids’ folly, Then without you knowing it, You may have become like one, A soldier coming from a war in a foreign country, A stranger in your own home. If you get home from the fields, And you are shocked you own a house, If you don’t want to go back because you are gratified If you only go back because of duty in the family, Then without you knowing it, You may have become one, A father of seasons, A stranger in your own h...

I’ve forgotten some of the moments Of the campus mates I learnt with Poverty x-rayed me out of school – Or was it God’s will? So when I meet them now I panic –fumble my dusty files for their names, the security guard by Express Shop is friendly- says a big hello and packs his bags to go…. it’s quickly turning dark and I have forgotten some of the names….

When your words pinched the last out of me I became an outlaw of love, Lost the route to the garden of the Doves Then I found a piece of you In one dejected drawer in my heart A memento A dusty piece of undying love