Poetry Bulawayo

Our journey has not been a smooth journey Its never been sweet and rosey Its been Bumpy and full of   storms With a patient and loving driver She is my hero She is my mother Swollen feet and High blood pressure Unpredictable and unreasonable cravings Supercharged moods and happy moments A burgeoning tummy You carried me nine months Of sicknesses and no medication You are my hero You are my mother In celebrating you I celebrate your love I celebrate your bravery I celebrate your patience Mama to show me the way You would slap my right cheek Cane me when angry but with great love You could punish me To give direction not to hurt me How I wish I could do the same to my Norma I can only watch and say stop it We have been schooled and colonised   by the west Mama you toiled Worked hard and you still do For me and my siblings you never rested For us to have the precious meal on our table From changing my d...

You’re too mortal to understand Why, I - With this body You call ’to die for ’ Still choose not to bandage my limbs Or cripple my soul. I dress the way I do Not because of fashion deformity. If it wasn't against the law, I would walk naked But I understand, Ragged chic, Bohemian chic Is as close I will ever get to Eden! My being is expression of freedom & spirituality.

I don’t eat chicken, may you please give me a job Electricity, water and proper health care system Oh! and papa this poem is too small for everything I need But we can start with the ones that I mentioned I do work and go to school simultaneously Who said only women are good at multitasking? As old as I am, which other future for me is in preparation? Or you just want to boost up my tension? Ngazviende!!! Hatizvide!!! Zvii zvacho? Will this war cry make everyone else feel macho? How do I succeed with? Nothing else is selfish than a croc If you can hear us, we are down here The people you stepped on climbing up there Do you know what happens when your time is up to be again down here? You need the same people to step on from up there I am claustrophobic, from this shell how do I penetrate? I mean like at one point I thought Zimbabwe was lit Before we faced this bottomless pit

I was a little boy, tad hillbilly son, patterned then in present tense, hardly old enough tall enough to work nor notice if I had pubic hair- large or small endowment growing up self-conscious about short comings narrow chest. Just a teen aged nighttime boy looking 4 a part-time hook up- little girl play, with a five-card stud. Preacher daddy raised me, back-seat Christian boy low on faith high on doobie rolled cigarettes. I took my 1st job, pancake flipper @ Heart Attack–Greasy Grill, 24-7 pocket coins 4 tips, a few greasy dollars, pancake short stack, secret menu was that boss’s daughter, blood on hands, my bun busted now stale, stained, & baked. Eliminate lines unessential: waitress injected me some spice old time recipe.

Image -  https://13isyourluckynumber.wordpress.com/ she rolls over and sighs in her sleep a song of distant cherubs such a tiny, slight sound the sound of the sun rising. she reaches for me instinctively slips soft hands into my worn palms, fingers that feel too old.