Poetry Bulawayo

Living these lives, we let this wind Do what it knows best This dry African breeze Blowing through our souls Fanning the dying flames within We mourn what we desire But never will have- We sit within this earthen cavity Of an ageing mine The prospectors have Wept their farewell & gone We know nothing- But how to conjure flecks Of gold in the thick air Building upon swampy odor Illusions of a future Forgeries of the past… Murmuring to our selves We form on this mine’s dust, With our chapped fingers, Stars as those adorning Our Eternally Sunless sky   Dazzling as the yonder Glorious kingdoms, whose songs We hear enviously, at night From a gaping distance, haunting… The sun rises on the pure & bloodstained alike How pure is funeral song? How red is Ceaser’s throne? Be it crimson in the reign of the deranged? These rotting pillars of the continent! Baobabs, trunks That glimmer silver at night   Yet pulps fermenting trees hollow inside…...

At first i chose to regard the rumours As nothing more than benign tumors Of the kind that is bound to fizzle Like an early morning summer drizzle But then people talked Everywhere I walked- Those women with huge breasts And the men with hairy chests Even the usually quiet relatives Began to speak in banal superlatives, Comparatives and all kinds of pejoratives And so the the stories flowed and flowered Why not when they were all powered By the sweet waters from the well of  gossip It was like everyone in the whole township Had taken one giant sip And filled to the deep It was one hell of a show Put up by that relentless flow This long flashback Puts me on the track To relieve the past Nobody ever forgets a cast With such an all-star feature...

Maybe i want to love you maybe you don’t know the length of my imagination maybe you should let the love and smile of our faces unwrap like a sweet maybe you ought to let go a little! maybe its about your terms maybe mine maybe acquaintances and terms don’t matter! Maybe it’s also about how i feel maybe its also about how i feel…

Some of us are plastic plates Soiled by hungry sojourners And thrown through the window Some of us are condoms Treasured before the job Discarded after gratification Some of us are endangered species For freedom we beseech Not guaranteed is freedom after speech some of us are boulders used, abused by Witty Hares  To sink into oblivion soon after crossing

THINGS FALL APART As THE DAVIL ON THE CROSS with his own @ heart Masquerades as A MAN OF THE PEOPLE Though simple Blind eyes can see the PETALS OF BLOOD Hung UNDER THE ( his ) TONGUE The child of NEHANDA is NO LONGER AT EASE in these lands of SHADOWS and BONES But we keep on WAITING FOR THE RAIN To cleans THE FLOODS of the blood spilled when ANCESTORS have long predicted THE COMING OF THE DRY SEASON THE LION AND THE JEWEL the lion and his jewel are STILL GRAZING whem the SECOND CLASS CITIZEN and no class citizen are s entenced to eternal days in the HOUSE OF HUNGER, with their empty bellies grumbling sounds of thunder as they hold TALKS WITH THE SUN, pleading for new SUNS OF INDEPENDENCE to fall o ver this dark SHADOW ON THE WALL CRY THE BELOVED COUNTRY: cry my beloved country for yours is still A LONG WALK TO FREEDOM Stuck IN THE DITCH of HOPES AND IMPEDIMENTS with Defunct hopes and dreams The SLAVE GIRL and the DARK CHILD sit on the ANTHILL...

Do not think Do not talk Sh!! Do not try to be brave You will go to the grave Sh!! You are all his people when he says "My people" Nod your heads only When he kills your people Cry only Sh!!

He had a dirty look, And spoke like Charlie Brown, He loved her because, She looked like Nancy Drew, I don’t know what’s with me and people’s names, But I love the sound of them anyway, Forgive me if you are the one,   I am speaking about my uncle Chino, Who loved the pretty Sithembi, Because she was young he said she was tender, And so befitted the object of his lust, To sleep with her he wanted just, To prove his worth to all who watched, His debacle and conquest, Mixed in one pot of joy, That was to bring about his demise, We thought it was cool, Lilly thought it was the life, When they made her his wife, But she almost used the knife, To end her miserable existence, Upon finding out that he cheated. He repeated the same act to so many damsels, Pretty little girls with a future promising, Some were dumb some were brilliant, Some knew his cunningness, some did not, Some were urged on by peers some by their mothers, But they all fell into one...