Poetry Bulawayo

Father My heart bleeds for you My twenty- third year and all I have brought Is pain, misery and suffering I have seen you labour 40 years you have labored to have me become Somebody It has taken twenty three years to become Nobody Someone said; The fruit of a father’s labour is his child But Is that true of me Father My heart bleeds Twenty three years have I lived Yet No improvement have I brought to you The family name goes down by day Everyday the name you toiled To build disintegrates Father My heart weeps endless tears Floods of my tears have washed away All my dreams and eroded my vision Father My heart weeps For I feel you have labored in vain Twenty three years and I still hang onto you As a tick to a dog Everyday my mouth open-wide for you To feed to it a fat worm Father My heart bleeds for all the Frustration that has built in your Heart and mine For my failure to live to expectation Father ...

My son My heart bleeds that in your twenty third year You have nothing to offer me I am grieved that you have – nothing To call your own Even though my tear glands have dried up My heart still weeps that destiny Has not been kind to you Son My heart weeps silent tears That you have no place to call your own That you have out-grown this house I am grieved that my sweat has dried up On you Leaving fragile cracks of hope My son My heart bleeds That I could not have offered you better My son My soul bleeds that you have grown At the wrong time Caught in an evil net as fish of the sea My heart weeps for your generation And the one to follow after you For the family you shall struggle to raise My son My heart bleeds that: I have nothing to offer you But my dried up sweat and lost vision A spirit of anger whose blazing passion has Kindled from a little fire inside Into a full-blown veld fire engulfs me Born out of my f...

i saw him today on my errand to the clouds a blurring graying old figure smeared on the hazy screen of the horizon i saw him today he has not changed   with his old raveled grey sack hanging from stooped shoulders his tattered black jacket his long brown-grey trousers reaching down to his sketchy black shy and humble shoes, i saw him today , i dogged him today because I had nothing to give only my heart to give, my wishes, my prayers- I saw him today I dogged him today but followed him with my eyes, and his image fragmented and splintered and re-grouped to a man, a human being with feelings, just a man who was hungry.

The last time l checked,        There was need for change Nations were fighting against nations        Love was replaced by hate        Life was made up of fate               The last time l checked,          The world was beyond repair Twenty two men were chasing a baloon in the air          Gun play was the order of the day                  The last time l checked,    Churches were built for business purposes                Prophets were predicting problems    False prophets were making money for their benefits           ...

  A shriveled heart Void of pumping values Love no longer manufactured Try next door A contorted soul Many lies it embraced and many slaps it endured Love no longer a totem Try next door A swollen face Brutality its main meal And tears for dessert Trust  sapped As preached by the bloody cornea Love no longer has weight Try next  door

If you want to know about wars Ask trees Whose leaves Buried Skeletons Of genocide victims.

Demolish their house They’re nemesis Clad in awkward faces “Orders from above” Indict all pagans Absolve our handy hands You’re my blue-eyed boy “Orders from above” Get off the farm Or else more harm We need beans dressed in greens “Orders from above” Pass through the draconian Media mill Before you can access any News till “Orders from above” Drag the Kariba shark To the statute books The river must be easily crossed “Orders from above” Quasi-fiscal games to thrive Despite economic quagmire Our worshippers must be enriched “Orders from above” Wine and dine at Victoria Falls retreat And ignore Key Result Areas Guaranteed is your absolute impunity “Orders from above” Clandestine remedial courses For all prodigal lambs To be religiously done A stick-and-carrot policy is upper cut “Orders from above”

this poem reshuffled cabinet the rhythm resigned the president its metaphors adjourned parliament my daughter awaken sleeping patriots eating peanut in slogan darkness rise dozing voters in the warmth of political acid awaken struggle heroes in graves tired of wrong epitaphs and fake eulogies awaken fat cats puffing zanunised and mdcided propaganda burgers in slumber rise green horns drinking much talked herbal tea of change grandfathers of patriotism to bring back truth drowning in potholes of grief god fathers of change to bring back my vote choked in drums of new renewed corruption bring red hot charcoal to roast political bedbugs sucking our blood in daylight bring a word scientist to burn the justified injustice in poetic sulphuric acid my daughter this poem reshuffled cabinet the rhythm resigned the president the metaphors adjourned parliament.

  On many a grave You inscribed a painful writing on the tombstone Today we gather on your grave To inscribe a delighting writing on the tombstone   “Here lies political violence and polarisation Born ever since the attainment of Zimbabwe’s Independence He died on the day the Inclusive Government was born He is survived by graves, disabilities, and emotional wounds”   Rest here forever political unrest Rest here for society to find rest Rest not in peace Rest in pieces for the sake of peace   Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, soil to soil So we were tired of saying to your victims Today we unite to return you with dust and soil Back to the dark world where you emerged to claim victims   The dead are gone With nothing to do with the living Forever from our society we unite to make sure you are gone Never come back again to subtract from the living   Through abductions, torture, and murder You forced many in...

cacti thoughts in the mind with my parched throat walking in this barren land nothing greets the eye here thorny bushes and aloe plants the desolation growing here

what he said sitting on the sofa warming himself on the heater wearing a red kepi in the house? what he said simply and plainly in words and tearful looks of fate, he said…he hesitated he said…jerked and fell back on the sofa he said…stopped and coiled seemed strained he said…sighed and turned seemed restless and undecided, he said…stopped gathered his breath , “but you it is all a trick I don’t know,its what you think l these pictures-gross images of life…do you think? no…but…its what you make it.” he said, his eyes wide and growing into a dream, “It fades…it fades…you cant touch it sometimes you don’t know anymore what’s wrong or right …with life…its vain…we are all sinners!”

Did God create life without colour? Or did man invent a colour without life? Which is which? A colour with life Or a life with life? Why can't you see the colour of my life? Why can't l see the colour of your life? Are we all colour blind? What's the colour of life? More questions are asked but no answers are passed. Colour green cannot make me win Black can only darken my life Red results in anger and danger So what is the colour of life l paint it blue,it looks like a sea Brown can only break it down White can only reflect light So what is the colour of life ? Purple can only create evil Orange is only meant for the oldd age Grey creates a stained page So what is the colour of life ? Yellow make it shallow Silver makes life evil giver Merune makes it look like a dead cartoon So what is the colour of life? My passion for painting is fading away My colour of life is fading away For all my mistakes l pay But stubborn stains keep getting i...

Luxury cars for an over-sized choir Source of funds Dry coffers Endless meaningless trips Around the globe Source of funds Dry coffers Massive State patronage To beef up waning support Source of funds Dry coffers State armed to teeth To quell angry hungry mobs In the streets Source of funds Dry coffers A hell-hole of home Loathed even by baboons Source of crises Dry conscience!!

if you think of me thank you if I could get you again I would with a red and wide smile for this world is nothing but darling if you think of me thank you, am still with love why not am still in love why not- besides I cant brush away the blushes that grew on both our chins under the umbrella of a mushroom! Do you remember the rose buds we were saying prayers under the say no-more tree? shi shi shi if you think of me thank you.

A sister up the street A brother down the lane No suspicions of the occurrences that join their blood The present attraction A replica of past attraction Iconic of what joins their blood A secret firmly kept In the hearts of the guilty duo Never dreamt of its exposure Till their sin has revolted Trailing its blood To join with the others Wedding bells ring All ululate and adulate But the troubled look won’t escape the duo “in laws” Who in the other life manufactured the bride The Minister joins the blood Joined two decades ago

Sacrifice spills over Grows a root gravely Settles like scent or dust Let’s put a stamp And a seal on That mouth of yours Once bitten Twice shy Go away fool You foul rogue; Oval eyes wet And black, Obsidian moons That rise out of nowhere Glistening like fat Like flowers Blooming at night Bait me like a hook saboteur I man the shore Like a well-oiled, Golden lifesaver Your twist and shake is like a fish Your fingers grip wildly at air Transmit your attitude elsewhere You are done for hovering coward Swipe at me again and I will smash You to smithereens Little man, skinny as a tick; Fingers like frilled fissures You’re tarnished and thick.

I lie down in this valley of tears, Moaning over something I cannot change, Just the thought of it makes me shiver. It drums my head with so many emotions, Anger, despair and hatred. Every day, every night I lie down weak in my knees, Trying to digest the knowledge I have received, But I don’t understand, I am confused and lost in the mist of my angered thoughts. But why do I care, why am I bothered by something I have no authority over. When I visualize it my heart skips a beat, But not out of love but out of rage. I feel great pain for I am the only one undergoing such furry. But who am I to judge you when you are having a good time? Who am I to deprive you of your last chance at happiness?

Bulldozer Razed Houses To the ground. Old Maina watches Malnourished grand-daughter strapped On her back Stomach empty. Restore order! Restore order! Law! Law! Law! Police officers chant. As houses surrender life To bulldozers’ force. Old Maina shook her head. “Yesterday I thought through my fist Tomorrow I will think through my slap.”

I am he to them, Guava paper with pencils marks, Statued at their mayhem With frozen nerves left to few guts And fake intrepid with breath of confidence, I am all they see, am their evidence. I am he to them, A lanky boy stuck in dark skin, Dreaming to be amongst their whole of fame And to be heard who's so keen. He who pretends to think but evidence his paper bear. Like glued upon chairs they all can't escape to hear. I am he to them, A public lunatic me they perceive, But am a foe and friend all the some. For wisdom and rage i make them receive But i frankly read their thoughts on ink And to mic i spit, am crazy they all think... This poem is about the tears of joy i will shed on the second coming of Jesus With Joy I don’t cry God’s love is wide like sea, Once was blind but now i see. With joy i kissed the blue sky, But with joy never did i cry. May it be silver i own or gold, May i meet a dead friend of old, Might i become a King under the su...

On one beautiful morning on the mountain top in silence blowing and howling Her serene songs to my ear My femme – fatale, the wind shall gently sway her, lips and gently kiss my lips... It is at the moment that I shall whisper a secret to her It is then when I shall tell her to carry this secret across sandy golden dunes of the Sahara, down the evergreen everaining raining forests at the congo Basin, I shall whisper to her to tell it to the singing savannah grass to the herds of galloping zebras and girraffes, and bellowing buffaloes, growling lions and laughing hyenas. I shall ask my sensual sexy sensational seductive mistress the wind to the blow across Africa all the way to the greeness of Indian ocean,blowing eddies of brown cape karoo dust until she reaches the cold shark ridden corrents of the Atlantic, She shall go all the way to the dirty black townships of Africa a whisper my secret to the old mothers selling chicken trotters wrapped in old newspapers at beer...