Poetry Bulawayo

Image - https://www.fulfillmentwarehouse.biz/witness/default.asp?cat=327&pid=5201 They beat me with branches wrapped up in barb-wire, they beat me with branches wrapped up in barb-wire; my baby she crying, her face is on fire. They say you are sell-out, you vote Tsvangirai, they say you are sell-out, you vote Tsvangirai; my baby, she dying, please God, tell me why? They beat first my head then my back then my bums, they beat first my head then my back then my bums; they laugh and they say is like playing the drums. I beg them for water, they say go ask Blair, I beg them for water, they say go ask Blair. Please, put out the fire in Mucheche’s hair? My bottom is broken, can not sit or stand, my bottom is broken, can not sit or stand; Mucheche can’t breathe with her mouth in the sand. They burned all our mealies, our chickens, our dog, they burned all our mealies, our chickens, our dog; my uncle, they hit him to death with a log. ...

His smile was a murder weapon Pain was the poet Hurt was the Editor and I the paper This is not just another poem but actually a dedication to a fellow addict Who realises his smile is only a temporary fix Take this for just what it is For whom it may concern Upon meeting, his smile was a key He broke down all four walls And barricaded all doors He reached new frontiers He unleashed my inner Eve He had game but his smile sealed the deal From then he wouldn't leave Charged with infidelity His smile shredded the evidence Everyday I'd see him at school Walking around like a total fool Making it clear he wasn't mine Flirting with every swine The people's hero Had groupies like a movie star who with every blush had me beaten, bruised, used and abused played like a fiddle. I fell to pieces His smile like the potter, remoulded me I had to look in the mirror to learn That the signs of a struggle were there, The sun bright, the sky dark A sig...