Friday, November 12, 2010



Were we stripped naked?

To find, them, unshaken,

Laughing in crude fashion.

No boulder, of strength, to cushion,

For I thought out of hand they budged,

To intercept a grudge-they won.

Then reminisce not on my shady history

Yesterday, No, the looming mystery

Tomorrow, falling off the cursed fig tree.

When balancing on rotten branches made me free

To air-scratched and bruised,

Battered and clustered, embarrassed.

Having to find myself less flattered

By his ego, less set to offer

Nothing fresh, only penniless.

Shamefaced, ignoring his own follies

Of trolleys full of lies,

On which platter, silver or gold?

To make such blatant pledges bold

Naked against all odds

Shaken, composure unfound.

Surviving only to tell stories untold

With trumpets of shame….to make the sound.

Tatenda Mhlanga

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