Her

Comforted  by  the  darkness

With  no light  to uncover  the  sadness

She empties  her  thoughts

To gain a  place  in the  vast space

Now  completely blind to all her faults.

The  chilly  wind  whistles serenading chants

Whose  warmth  cleanses  and  caresses

the contours  and curves of her now revolting skin.

It  whispers  of the immensity of her beauty

A  calabash so intricately moulded by expert fingers,

Whose strength would not yield to the corroding

Mold smeared upon her by his  deviously moist body.

In  this  trance  of  oblivion

With  nothing  but  dotting twinkles of  hope

holding  together  the  fabric  of  the  horizon,

She  is  completely at  ease

Her wispy soul whooshing through all her sorrows-

 

For who is  she to hold on

to that

which clips her wings?

 

 

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Skeletons in the Sand

We suffer under the gloom of their oppression

dejected

rejected

whilst they stifle us with their crooked words

making us endure their acts

as they feign to be protector.

Our souls they  tear with their torrential barrage

confessing doom in every  word they fathom

the house is no longer home

No!

it is now graveyard to our depressed hopes.

Try to tell the leader

and he turns a vacant stare

oh yes!

because they enjoy our destruction.

Hear us you robbing prince

for you love to flatter us with big words

but deep inside are empty of any truth

as you waltz at our languid wails.

Hear us you cows of Bashan

you who trample on us like dust

mocking us with your powdered faces

that mask the devil lurking inside.

We thus stand as skeletons in the sand

trampled

disabled

you may muffle our cries

and disregard our desires

but show them the light, oh Ezekiel

for we shall rise!

 

 

 

For We Were Men

“For  your eyes are the  fairest,

Your skin silky and sallow.

come be a part of  my life

And  in turn share its sweetness may”

 

” Away with  you  oh braveheart

for  my love is  too puppy

to quench your ambitious taste

I am only but too plain for your impress”

“Too plain? Do not  mock  my reverence

For my eyes have been more than dazzled by your gait

and your virtuous voice has poisoned my mind

You are lyk the forbidden fruit, too magnificent

Yet too tempting to behold unless…”

” oh spare me the silly flattery my lord

for I am only yet but a budding child

and know not how I can satisfy

the affections of such worthy a grace”

“oh! though thou cut me short as I admire thy smile,

as much as I like I may not see you

nor may I embrace or have a chance to kiss you.

Yet deep inside I know you are the sunshine unto my soul

thus like in war, your love is a prize I will die for” ( attempts to hold her waist)

” Uphold your peace you fool!

For my love is not for you to tear

nor my heart for you to break

But greater is he, that sees beyond my face”

 

Skulls: A Song About the Broken Bones Not Stored in a British museum

Who killed  freedom

Tell me father

Who murdered  democracy?

 

Why is  it  the  ever  so famous  couple

Pays  us not  a  visit at  all?

Was  it  not  you  who promised  us  day and  night

When the  revolutionaries  were still  behind  the  anthills

Ambushing  the  old  witch called colonialism

That  was  scaring  freedom and  democracy  away

That  a  day  would  come  when they  would wipe away  our  pain?

 

Where  are  they  buried  mother

For  up to this  day none has  stumbled  upon their sights?

*

Many suns  have died

since the black man got  into power

after  colonialism was  burnt at  the  stake

But  up to this day

Not  even the  cave

where  the  two cuddled  together

Has  been found.

Shackles  continue  to blind  our  eyes

As we  wallow  in feasts of better days

Whilst  greedy  men grapple  for the  reigns

With  their gnarled  strong  fists  denying  us  hope.

The  heavens  have  forsaken our  plight.

And  our  young drop of hunger like flies

Yet the insatiable  kings

devour  the  fruit  of  our withered  lands

leaving behind nothing but a barren blight.

*

Did  they  not  have  children

Just  as  the  other couples do

Tell me, Muendamberi?

Surely,

If  democracy  and  freedom are  dead

Baba,

Tell us  so we  can at-least see  their  skulls.

Screams from deep within

Tell me  why  the  world  runs  wild  inside  of  me

why  the  sun burns  like  a  furnace torching  my  mind?

tell me  why  the  heaviness  in  the  air  drowns  my  smiles

shattering  their  luminance into a  million   shards

that  descend  like  mist onto my  uncovered  heart?

tell me  why  my  cries  dig  gutters  in  my  psyche

plunging  me  deeper into the  torments  choking  my sight?

Why, my  mouth feels  like  a trove of grit,

and  my  heavy  eyelids shield  me  not  from the maddening  demons?

why there is  broken glass  running  through  my  veins?

why  this  noise  causes  my  ears  to rapture,

and  the wind  wheezes  down my  lungs like a  harmattan,

drying my  inside, shriveling  it  to nothingness?

tell me  why

why my  mind spins  itself into a  whirlwind,

breaking  down everything  in  its way?

tell me  why  i do this  to myself

tell me  why

tell me

why

why why

why

whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy??? (screaming)

Kuanguka

As the nights are entwined
Our thoughts are enshrined
Upon your luminous smiles
And my earnest eyes.

Into the unknown we thrust
Our timid souls and vapid hearts.
Reckless in our intentions
Yet oblivious to the lustrous rigors
Of our disastrous desires.

As unrestrained emotions collide
The desiccating void is denied
Amidst the rage of doubt
Surging forth from our fervid past.

We venture into depths that consume our lust
And reject our besmirched innocence.
Tender in their ferocity
Yet enrapturing in their intensity.

We strive until-
Suddenly-
Like a hasty breeze.
Salvation comes!

LAMENTATIONS

Your face  shone

like  a   star

illuminating  my  soul

your  smile  twinkled

terrifying  all my  doubts

of  the  splendor  of  your  gaze

did  we run wild

upon  the  flame

of  our  burning  desire

tell me,

did  we  drown desperately

into the depths

of  our  mutual self-betrayal?

let  the  past  catch  up,

so we  can drink to its glory.

“HOW I LOST MY MOTHER”

They  felt her  breathlessness,

Her  trembling  disdain for  affection

and  the  echoing  depth  of her dreams;

Powerful,

provocative.

She  was  fierce  in her  thoughts

and  restless  in her  rigidity.

was  she  but a  man?

they asked,

Marvelling  at  her strength.

From the  dust  she  had  risen,

like  a  stubborn tiny baobab  seed

to morph  into a  domineering  lioness;

Fearsome,

majestic.

She  had  shed  her skin and  laid  a  tomb  to her  past.

the  ghost  of  her  weakness,

She  swore,

would  never, again, drown her zeal.

And  so she  fought  the  good  fight

Her  goal?

to dine  with  the  gods!

VANITY OF THE SUN

The  golden fingers  embrace the  earth,

soothing  in  their  touch

yet  wreaking  havoc  with  their  smudgy  smears.

Searing  sunny smiles  bog  the  bitter  wiles

echoing  violently  amidst  the silent  stares.

images

A  gust  of  wind  enraptures

blowing  forth  the decaying chaff 

that settles  heavily  deep in our eyes,

creeping quickly  into our  minds

yet  our severed  throats  deny the  desperation

festering within  the  fiery  cold.

Wretched rugged  roars revert the  storm

raving riotously  in defiance  of  the  flood;

flood  of  thoughts,

flood  of  dread-

threatening  the  destruction of  their  gods.

Arms are  reaped  and  mouths  gagged

as  the sun forsakes  its warmth,

resorting rather  to scorching hate

in its  quest  to keep the  searing  blaze,

Condemning all our hopes  to rot  

and  our  dreams  to dilapidated dust-

for  who are we,  to question the  Gods ?

GIVE ME BUT MY FAIR SHARE OF NOTHING

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Dear  father

i know you  have  lived  long  enough

to see  those  red  hills  wither  to dust

and  you  have  ammased  enough  regret

to afford  to offer  me  my  inheritance.

Father, tell me

did  you  not  go to the  front

sacrificing  your  mound  of  sand  back in  Mhondoro

and  the  academic  papers  withering  in  your  wilting  hut;

did  you  not  also boldly  shout  “viva  o povo”

whilst  magically  surviving  the  marauding  lice  and  settlers

that  haunted  your  every  nights  meant for  pasionate  love?

Did  you  not  also pilgrimage  to Rufaro

to celebrate  rusununguko, hupfumi kuvanhu?

But  now  look at  yourself  Mwendamberi

what  became  of the  wealth  to the  people  spirit?

why  now  you  live  in  a  carving  tangwena

whilst  feasting  on  every  measly  memory  of  the  war

that  last  year  starved  Taizivei to an ignominable  bone?

why  then Baba,

are  your  fellow  compatriots  that  you  deny,

ballooning  at  the expense  of  the  povo?

look now  VaTIchafa,

  Iam now  of  age

and  i am ready  to foray  the  truth

to discover  if  you truly  had  testicles  of  gold

that  made  you  fight  through  the  struggle

yet  failed  to build  you  a  mansion in  Mandara

or  even a  squashed  boy’s khaya in  Matapi

My  time  is  now  father

for  you  to grant  me  what  i deserve.

I await  to amass  the  wealth

that  my  inheritance  bestows.

HEHEHEHEDE!!!!!

seka  hako!