Monday, April 20, 2015

Last breath before dawn

 There is breath before dawn
that calls you home to eternal solitude
you walked your way alone
faced with fearful odds
that none but you could ever imagine
for the smile was the holding center
keeping both misery and mystery on check

Life is never truly as blissful
as the silent flow of mutshundudi river
or as beautiful, as phiphidi waterfalls
with water gushing down full of hope
its a mystery, only fully discovered in silence
and your silence came before dawn

They see the anguish
and think there is more to be done
but the chapter folds and the book written
a dash of hope trampled to the soil
where meaning begins
in the depth of solitude
where no one can reach
unless its forever

But once for every man
a dawn comes that he will not see through
yours came like a thief at night
and it comes for all for all of us
to usher us into the true reality
a life in a box, slowly decomposing
until there is no memory
of the days spent in blissful delusion

But for you it came like a thief at night
and left us still hopeful
that the sting was an illusion
that maybe with the waning dawn
you would find your way back to us
for one more a smile
for one more a joke
for one more a secret
for one more a life shared in its fullness

But for you it came like a thief
and stole your last breath
before dawn

R.I.P Tovhowani Nevondo (died 17 April 2015)... a neighbor and a friend



Full moon

You are not a messenger of light
who, adorned with hope, light bright the skies above
You are a sun, borne out of darkness
a distant memory of life where darkness abide
to hide a murderous people
as they plunge upon their own
like a thief that comes in the night

Full moon, you hide their ashes 
slowly cooling off into darkness
that wrapt them since the last flame died
and the last muscle collapse into an ash

Full moon, you hide Kwazulu Natal
and its gory heart
a word spoken, a river of blood runs
over flowing to the nation
flaming after other nations
like a hungry fire in an odd morning
Consuming whatever it touches

who will wipe the tears from our brothers
who will comfort their wives and daughters
who will warm their sons' heart
when the dagger is held by our hand

Will the full moon go away
and expose a hearts draped with hatred
or will it stay forever
forever tucked in our black hearts


Thursday, April 2, 2015

The last rites

The struggle continues
To hold on to your last breath
And journey back to the beginning
When you were full of slogans
And the revolution running in you
But the slogans grow faint
And at the last breath
No one remembers
How you towered above us
Always ready to lay your life
But far away from the machine guns
From the slogans and revolution
It is a dark moment
The hated priest searches deep within you
To see if there is light in your darkness
To see if it's time for your last rites
And he sees nothing
We are still landless

'Izwe Lethu' he solemnly prays



In memoriam Maxwel Nemadzivhanani
RIP 2015/04/01. Izwe Lethu

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Guerilla

She saw him
clad in a long black trench coat
a rugged newspaper slotted under his arm
with a beard almost sweeping the red soil

He walked silently like the rumbling of fallen leaves
His eyes tossing side by side like mounted AKs
as if aware of the mulch of danger that covered his face

She saw him
detached from the village he crossed
with a gaze that estranged her
as if she had always been a shadow

He walked like a battalion
Ready to charge, to vanquish the enemy
engulfed in a deep pool of disciplinary silence

She saw him
disappear like a ghost
Waging a war in her head
setting her against her own eyes

Was he the calm breeze that followed?
or the stone that rattled against the calm breeze?

Was he the cabbage that suddenly grew rich in colour?
or was he the fiery anger that flew from her eyes?

Was she the enemy now?
was this Parks* where he was studying?

who was he?

did she see him?

*its suspected that Parks refers to Parktown Boys High School

Thursday, March 5, 2015

1985 (The Baptism)

They won't tell you about it
It was draped  in a blissfully festive
Dusty villages where not without a tale
And music could be heard all corners
Drunkards drunk and everyone tipsy

The old guitarist sat in the corner
Strumming the strings as ladies sang
Though he sang the loudest
But the merry men danced all day
While children clogged the carless

We had no sinners in the tent
Until that young man arrived
He spoke with a tongue so soft
Made many speak in tongues
in chaos never seen before

They did not drink petrol
Nor munch on the rich green grasses
But they were fed the body of God
And His blood they drank
shaken to a new birth

The queued like a flock down the valley
One by one to that young man draped in white
With one gasp he shoved them in
and out came a new creature
until the whole village could see

They saw sin as it came
to be the order of the day

in the midst of newness

Friday, December 12, 2014

Bulimia

13, 20 , 60, 100 and more
How much can I swallow
Is it a hunger?
or the soul is hollow
Where can I find more?

A sudden rush
Am I รก bigger Man now?
What's this stuffed in my heart?
A heart full of broken hearts
The weight, I am choking

Ever seen an ablution for a Soul?
Broken pieces muddy my composure
A sweaty rat race to nowhere
If I get hungry can I start afresh?
Until I am angry again

How many does it take?
For ghosts to start living
Can love truly heal this?

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Matilda

The streets were dusty
and the village wrapt in delusion
some walked up the road
some worked till dawn

But Matilda could never sweat
All she wanted was a dark night
To conquer her with dreams of splendor
far away from the village swamps

Neon lights were forever lit
A stream of cars treading below
as if pulled by an almighty hand
Towards a far away destination

That is all she saw
whenever her eyes were closed
For there was nothing for the eye to see
since the last comrades returned

They came back, empty handed
no arms no freedom only a ballot
and the hunger brew
until the village was torn

Each day was a long wake
for the day the mute pursuit begins
When neon lights becomes a reality
And the village is no more

http://aphs.worldnomads.com/rpeati1990/36706/JHB_1.jpg

Monday, September 29, 2014

Dzimbava (Nkandla)

Bomepome ndi la mini mudini wa Nkandla
Na kani haa u hone mulandu
we sa muungu wa sina
wa fadala sa mapfuvhi tshilimo

Kani ha inwi vhathu ni mabofu
Zwa mudi dorobo ani zwi vhoni
Zwine na tangulwa masiari li ntha ha thoho
tshanu havha tshilomo ndundundu

Vheiwe ani magoswi
Ni lushaka lwa vhahali
No kunda mabunyu Phiphidi
Zwino museto matoni ndi wa mini

Ambani ha ndi pfe
Lwavha lungano lu pfuvhe
Ni si fele felo sa bete
Ngeno ngoho i khagala

Ambani vhavhi vha kungumale
Tshavha tshinwi tsha Nkandla tshi twanzuwe
Lushaka lu wane phodzo
Sa bofu la Dzherikho

Asina Vhungoho ndi mbava
U fhirwa nga pfene
Line nau vhifha halo
Vhusiku mavhele leri thi fari

Vheiwe kani ni dzi mbava
Ni tshi sokou lavhelesa na sedza
Ngeno lushaka lu khou tangulwa
Sa matsilu no sokou donola mato

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

The Pain I am (She cries)

She cries
Though not so loud
her tears flood my heart

For i know
If time could have it
and we never met
her tears would be dry
her heart filled with joy
her face beaming with smiles

I am that pain
you see on her face
I am that bitter salt
Saturating her tears

When love i promised
i gave a love so weird it hurt
and now i am
that never ending pain in her heart
and she hurts and hate
because of me
how i hate the pain i am.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Amy

You ran so quick
So we could learn to fly
Sang so loud
You raised a piano from the dead
Your hell was here
Stuck between demons
And now you are a gospel
With so much life in your death
You are the angel
That learned to fly so early
It broke it's wings
And now we are all masters
The beat is not the same
Your voice is missing
And your shadow lingers in our hearts
For you sang our hearts out