Poetry Bulawayo

That sick headline- Death born of a chipped shoulder Feuds growing older Murderers bolder The war of injured egos And misaligned wills incurable ills Racial name tags, burnt flags Utopian ruins, conflicts brewing Distorted protocol Mockeries most of all Dictatorial lusts, unjustified pasts ‘Democratic games’, masked campaigns Seething citizens Hostile ceremonies, unseen Political matrimonies Tragic constitutions Immoral resolutions Missile factories, the flooding Canaries Global warming, sterile technologies Hedonistic theologies Pessimist’s theories Wastelands, brain cancers Toy soldiers, mass graves Delayed apologies- A million children, a billion lives - Close down the paper house! – Why have our shame flaunt itself in print??

Wounds that bled, gradually healed But ugly scars thrust in our faces remained Evil marks our actions left on our land Innocent blood we inadvertently got on our hands Mere reminders of where we come from As for the atrocities and massacres The crippling, maiming and cold-blooded murders Random arrests and assorted weapons of torture Breeding anger and hate, festering on the verge of rupture Things we cannot, or rather, may not talk about The backward still think “attempted extermination” But did we not say “a moment of madness” A decade of racial purification Necessitated propaganda and astronomical inflation Uprising was toned down to manageable degrees While our engineers worked flat out to rectify the ballot gone haywire Skyrocketing corruption, humanity bereft of dignity Simultaneous outbreaks of disease and bearer’s cheques Inbred hostility born of the scramble for survival Lest we forget these chronicles of our valiant expedition Our gallant march, in solid...

Under the oak tree Stood my grandfather's Great grandfather's Father Amongst the sheep And exotic fruit To be sold But to be fair At a bit higher price Under the oak tree Stood my grandmother's Great grandmother's Mother To be traded To a master Who would repeatedly Rape her Repeatedly Under the oak tree Stood their child Scared and lonely Freshly ripped From the beast of her mother Living an orphaned life In a dusty and wet dungeon And taught the religion Of freedom by oppressors Under the oak tree Stood my brother Flogged for his quest For emancipation: self determination But was given a European name (klienbooi) Skin branded with blazing iron "Dutch East India Company" Another gently brutal reminder His life: White man's commodity Under the oak tree Stands I Today. Looking at the blood Streamin from the pores of my Family Tree Choosing to look the past boldly in the eye And still forgive For now I am fr...

Beneath trembling feet, Shivering, groaning blistered, spirited sigh. Sole-boil out of shape. A closing gap between me and future Continue learning the other way round. Who am I? Is it the faded shadow? Or the striving? Galloping windows of opportunities? Up side down skies? The cursed waters? The blood of Afghanistan ? The black European in Africa ? The questioning dog? Who will I be in the future? Is it the writer? The Homer? Pained and future starved teacher? The inverted river? The dead man? A frustrated father? The Boer? How groaningly watching my face in A water glass –see a trembling window With the image of mo- Pain I will die with. Breath of smoke, beneath the filed the court case a madman writing. The appealing rumor of my identity. Zoom the past, see the wicked banner of a killed baby – Admiring the wicked mule.-the mother Lineage and dump- future I create ...

When I left home bleeding My parents were left bleeding In “non-existent” camps humanity was left bleeding My sister is up to now still bleeding For teaching that it is inhuman to cause bleeding Teacher Johns and Pastor Demo were left bleeding For donating bandages to stop bleeding Businessman Bill and Doctor Eve were left bleeding The economy is bleeding Our international image is still bleeding Education, Health and Infrastructure are bleeding All because others specialize in causing bleeding For defending the rights of the bleeding Lawyer Tim and Activist Jane were left bleeding For writing about cases of bleeding Journalist Elizabeth and Writer James were left bleeding Who and what was not left bleeding? Who and what are now safe from bleeding? Everyone is still afraid of bleeding That’s why the economy is still bleeding Although nobody likes bleeding Others like to cause bleeding For home my heart is bleeding But I’m still afraid of bleeding

I, too belong to the cave Where pythons reside The multi-coloured reptiles With subtle manoeuvres I used to live in the same cave With nominal rights and responsibilities It’s a hell-hole where powerful pythons Flout rules with tremendous bliss I belong to the cave Whose vibrating heat Drove me far, far away Now I rummage for bread and butter In better lands I belong to the cave Blessed with silent majority And the vocal minority Where blazing blankets bubble In furious fire It’s a cave where the Honourables Have what they don’t need While Super-patriots don’t have What they desperately need

women spilling of anguish pain Sighing a spell of relief Faded grief struck permanently On her inside walls Walls of existence in moral world Robbed by facades of insecurity Worries in Vanity Watching name losing vowels Meaning –Vanished in her thick memory relation died as bubbles of surf among the kings men's Life was paralyzed, gnawed, tipped with a barren womb Sneered under dead flames of Zeus’,smoke and thunderous dust Her petals were rust with undefined less of trembling colors An a dour of past and stale smoke decanted to the ancestors of poverty Pest rejected in ant of wildlife like cancer to herself she attracts none as lantanacamara has no admires Under peripheral of poverty s loneliness She picks herself up. In struggle looking –walking –talking frail and wearily The journey continues and agony As each sunrise ends it ,with nor with sunset Settles her burden on her head Down the dust road a york image of an orange horizon of tropical savanna welcomes...

I wonder If he knew I have been thinking of him I wonder If he knew I have been caring for him I wonder If he knew I am loving him more than ever I wonder If he knew I have been watching him I wonder If he knew I can feel him I wonder If he knew in my dreams when I sleep I keep him close to me I am thinking His the thunder of my lighting I am thinking He is the only one who can make me melt I am growing Close to him more than ever I am glowing With all the floor of happy laughter I am sailing without a destination exploring changed place with him by my side

Unshackle the shackles The sky from the heavens And the fish from the sea Can't you see It can not be if you and me Were never we Who would we be If morning was never there Would the world be what we see So you see Everything is meant to be.

lf l fall in it l fight If l fall in it l feel fragile lf l fall in it lam a fool Our hearts are used  as  a shield As we fight for this love in this battlefield We are soldiers in love ln search of love The spear of love strikes through our lonely hearts Amid the battle of love Love leads us nowhere Love lives us with broken hearts A broken hearts bleeds Love is a weapon used to destroy peoples' hearts Love is an illusion filled with sadness and confusion If l can feel it ,you can feel it too Because it's in each and everyone of us But seriously, Love don't  love us lf love love us Then why do love let emotions come between us l can only remember the bad times we fought One moment she loves me,another moment she loves me not  Some lose the battle but win the war  Some win the battle but loose the war  Everybody,everywhere is searching for love  Even those that are in the ca...