Monday, November 21, 2011

Home sweet home by Witness Hamudi

We go out although far

Away from ma and pa

Away from the land that’s ours

For long journeying hours

We forget not the sweet

Of home, especially when people spit

Into our faces with hate and disgust

And at times being returned for mistrust.

They always trying to hammer out of us

Models, in alleys and in subway we pass.

Comparing them with us in the glass

There is one lucid difference only.

They comfortably sitting at home and we are lonely.

We bent our backs and toil,

Happy to lead our lives in turmoil.

We aren’t happy at all

But we can not let our economy fall

Tumble and break-

Some day it will be you

Enjoying the experience you will be going through

I bet I don’t hate

But pray: make a better world for you and for me

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Night Birds by Tatenda William Mhlanga

Night draws closer with end day

Where they take over in hunt of prey

Night birds-exhausted they fly not

Parroting, they cry not

Smile a lot, squeaking,

Chattering, glittering

When the lights are more than dim-dark

When we the dogs that bark

Behind bars, try our luck

Not with our catapults loose

Misled is our target we miss,

In agony, them gliding, we can’t resist

Starring, like queens, but we as kings

Of unmeasured wit, defiant

Amused not of their deviance

To wander while others pray, misled

Skinny, blindfolded and lost

For hunger not to satisfy

Rotten flesh, disabled to gratify

Integrity-sweltering, for night birds of prey?

We long for fleshy birds of day.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

FRIEND OR FOE by Witness Hamudi

Ignore the turning of a friend to a foe,

When you’re being proven a fool,

Their laughter when you fall off a stool,

Their frowning when you soundly chew

Or the loneliness you go through,

When you enroll in a new school

But ignore not when a foe turns a friend;

It may be true or utter pretense.

Ignore not the repentance

It may be to bind or slacken your acquaintance.

All other things you may ignore,

But not when you make a friend out of a foe.

Monday, July 25, 2011

lets just talk

You should talk I think,

If you don’t you stink,

No communication no link

From the colourless wine bottle you shall not drink,

In the wilderness of self torment, you shall shrink

Its better to speak out, don’t give me a wink.

Speak out your mind,

Then receive answers of many kinds.

No doubt, relationships you shall find,

Quietness is the worst sanctuary to hide,

Inside yourself nothing to confide.

Come out. Utter something and push this coyness aside,

And in the peace of mind you will abide.

It’s not safe to die in torment,

Your predicament becomes everyone’s consent

In dialogue, there is less disaffection to ferment,

There are always mistakes to correct,

Even problems to confront,

And a relationship to cement.

By Tatenda Mhlanga

Monday, July 4, 2011

DEATHDAY by Witness Hamudi


A grave there is somewhere out there

Where the cold eyes of mine stare

Whose sorrow night and day I share.

I used to with at least half my heart care

For the motionless one who lies in there,

The cold of winter wrapping around him

And the memory with time getting dim

But as always I’m reminded as well as being haunted

By my love’s Deathday

That has come to take away from the Birthday

Then how can I not imagine

The images that once pushed to the margin-

Of my mind being rekindled, coming back.

With love and fear I stand there and shake

Oh that day again!

That on mine heart leaves a stubborn stain

Of pain: remembering the grave

Down to which love I once gave.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Poor World of Dreaming

Its still, before the dark hours,

Still in the middle of a rest thats ours,

From an unknown vision, motion pictures emerge

Starring people found in life pages.

Some smiling,

Others, crying.

Among these are those without friends,

Those with them unleashing their own new trends,

Their feelings conveyed by laughter screams,

Those in agony, heard by horror shrills.

Surprisingly the audience never found its meaning,

Here lives are being crotched, in weaving,

Reflecting the happenings in our lives,

The recordings, the history of recent times.

As the night away fades

Only snores, no noise, no words.

Where it all ends,

When the cool morning breeze encroaches,

As the enlightened day approaches.

It’s no longer the poor world of dreaming,

It’s now the real world worth living.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Dinner With The Devil (2)

Indeed I dined with him
When the lights were more than dim
The Devil-
The reign of evil
Back in the day
Where a visit was forced to pay
To sit across him in the dark
Where his grinning face with luck
Nearly took my bile up
Considering we were at the Last Supper
Badly prepared salad, burnt rice,
Kapenta and unroasted meat invited flies
Which the master minder slaughtered and ate
Together with his disciples who spat
Everywhere around the old broken dinner table.
We drank thick blood in addition
Which I recorded was their addiction.
Rotten apples became the dessert
As well as unripe paw-paws
I couldn’t take it any more at last
Never to excuse myself, I ran away fast.

Sunday, May 1, 2011


flies do fly bys

ova dead bodies

"why!" cries

rise to empty skies

we know you dont care

suits cant disguise

the body language as you stand there

giving speechfuls of lies

stories of government flaws reach for the skies

shouted out by future matyrs

"tomorrow is uncertain",

the future stutters

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Sisters And The BlueLight Bulbs by Witness Hamudi

Blue light bulbs glow not by day

When sisters kill the day for rest,

-day to get dressed.

To stare into a half broken mirror

That once before eviction belonged to Stella

Blue light bulbs rest by day.

Blue light bulbs are blind

They do not see their sisters’ unswept abode

Sisters slaughter smell with 'deos' cheaply bought

From down town illegal dealer

With hardy earned dollar bills.

Blue light bulbs sense of smell is blunt.

Blue light bulbs do not see

Neither the pants stashed into drawers

Stained with used oil in the showers,

Nor creased dresses spilling from an almost ripped up basket

To evade the dusty floor

Just before the clock strikes an evening three.

Blue light bulbs neither hear nor see

But I’m sure they can shade some dim light

On men’s pants lying tight

Each night in their blue bright

Cause blue light bulbs and sisters are one

They rest by day and work by night.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011


Words are like birds

They fly away when you try

To scribble a riddle

Or describe a nettle.

Words are like an eel,

They are slippery still,

If well put they may heal,

The soul of a beloved ill.

Take words for a thief

That has taken the wife of a thief

And may get caught if,

He has come to a dead end, the cliff.

Words sometimes bite

With their ironical might.

They may provoke a fight

Or keep one awake all night.

Monday, April 25, 2011

unsuppressable thoughts(Grandma's Questions)

Did he plan it
Did he do it on purpose
Put a Dark Spot on a Blue Planet
And let the World treat its people like they are 'worthless'

what was he thinking
was he thinking
Because, me thinking
But me stop thinking
Because what me thinks...

myt send me to a hot place
After someone rings the death knell
That place rhymes so well
with 'well'
which contains the liquid I'll so very much yearn for
in the domain of the Angel that Fell

But since i'm going there anyway
for all I've been doing
Answer, may!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
please end my pursuing

He didn't plan it
He didn't do it on purpose
He didn't put a Dark Spot on a Blue Planet
and make us worthless


Compelled to re-do transcripts of my transgression
I found flipping through pages ,having forgotten
Of tattered pages and plucked-out phases:
Moments from memory to efface-
In-vain .Haunting ,stubborn ,the visions rebound
Viciously ,intimidatingly screaming loud
To remind of a crooked past:
The horrors that survived the burning pages and stuck in mind to last.
The horrors that escaped the inferno-
Dived into the liquid of my brain to cool-off
That steams it ,and,
Keeps me tossing and turning in bed.
Hoping these visions with time might blur
I remain scandalously recalcitrant and devoid of blame.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Frankling David by Witness Hamudi

Franklin David was my favorite
All bartenders knew I was right.
So simple was he though fearsome when sober
For he’ld interrogate you over and over.
He being in the habit of squeezing himself in a distant corner
He seemed disconcerted in the manner of a loner.
But of all the people I knew, ha wasn’t that sort
He only needed one single hot tot
Afterwards he would talk,
Tease and joke,
Until he ordered for another round
And tell me to spare my pound.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Exam Room by Witness Hamudi

Breathe and think

Don’t mind the clock’s tick

Think of picking up tick by tick

Never do look at Dick

Fumbling-chewing away his pencils stick

Composure is the tick

To grab, in an exam, at each tick.

Say your short prayer

Not loud, not silent, but fair

Then take your pen and prepare

Jotting all you have with care

Not to doodle doodle away the day.

With the first hours chime

Panic not, cheat not, its a crime

Stare at the time

And with each second write in rhyme

After all is done

Breathe and think

That all you have won.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Broken Pot


I heard a monotonous din in the air
Where my gleaming eyes starred
In its direction, in motion.
I never took heed of any precaution
What do you expect, I enjoyed the experience
Of a life time. But…
By the moment, the din fade away
I felt my head loosened up.
Whaaa-at... my po...oo
Into the parallel streams I dived
Screaming as it were…my po…oo
Uncle Jacob found me drowning,
Rescued me and brought me where?
Who to my surprise appeared unmoved?
She only raised her concerns,
Remember, it was her only pot,
She became weak-her only pot
Done to pieces by the poor girl,
An ignorant teenager, old enough…
Only succumbing to the poverty snare
Where the new world remained a nightmare.
The metal bird varnished with our pot
I suspected…hesitantly.

Sweet music of death knells

the Devil looked on as his
minions mutilated and murdered millions
that had opposing opinions
He slept smiling while broken mothers wept
crying over what was left
screams serenaded him
in his violent dreams
fishermen and Fishers of Men pulled dead fish and body parts out of
silent streams
orators no longer spoke words with ease
everything shivered even birds in trees
The Serpent slithered
taking in the picturesque scene
no longer green: Life's flower withered....

Monday, April 11, 2011

Sick Midnight Thought by Witness Hamudi

If she were here and home being far
From her sweet i would sorrow though
But, her embrace being charm and lock
I’m bound and won’t stray any far.
If imprinting was for gulls and bears
I’m one that found suckling on her breast
A child you can wean with chilli on the chest
But not a man; I’ll forever cling onto hers.
Sweet dreams are for eternity
Blurred visions of her nudity, only future knows.
If its only dreams, we can make it with care
From valleys green to hill-tops bare.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


I cannot bear this,
I will not bear this.

I am troubled.
So dismantled,

What will I tell him?
How can I reveal it?

I’ve been robbed,
Heavily corroded.

I’m no longer myself,
Not exactly as I felt.

My brother is angry.
He cannot stand it.

My life is on standby, paused,
Not ready to be presumed.

My sanctuary is rotten,
Suffering pain from being rode on.

I don’t feel the same,
As I will not, never again play this game.

Who will like my appearance?
Or who will carry this disturbance.

My life has been battered
Like a hot knife through butter.

I’m still to decide,
If I can perform suicide.

I’m finished
I’m dismantled.

I can’t wait tom live any-more
I can’t live my life any low.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


When my ex husband had to call it a day,
I became instantly ill- I was dumbfounded,
With a blank mind, what could I say?
In the face of reality, my marriage was grounded,
A union that was forever, never meant to be,
Imagine, my being a wife of honour, with all my might,
My patience, perseverance drawn out of me 
Only to watch my marriage out of sight.
I often dream about it in drab misery,
Thinking that you of all people could hurt my soul,
Insulting me, in front of all eyes, in the name of adultery.
God- I watched him dismay as his poniards spread so,
Nevertheless, in future I have made up my mind,
In matters of love it’s the truth I have to find.


Friday, March 25, 2011



Covered in the veil of evil,
Cursed to dine with the devil,
Was Yours truly, who wore a sullen face,
Starring in dismay with a relentless pace
Especially where the Devil himself sat.
Across me our eyes inevitably met,
His reddish teeth at me grinning,
My body sweltering as my head was sent spinning
With fear, examining his laced gown of black,
Jumbled up in tatters like a scarecrow, a bald head
A wrinkled ugly face and long nailed fingers.
Apart from him was a dish of unappetizing food
Warm salad, burnt rice, raw meat with no soup
In addition to the smelly thick red wine-
That sent my head aside
I could not withstand it, instead I spat
At it but him smiling, continued to eat
Enjoying himself while I was not
He never cared I was not
Only his scornful grin as my bile rose above limits
I had to vomit in response
Wishing had I refused the invitation, my appearance
I would have eluded this excruciating experience
When I was cursed to dine with the devil
Veiled by darkness of evil.  

Monday, March 14, 2011




Given the can led me to refuel the flowers,
Who in turn grew alternatively with the racing hours,
No time taken soon to bloom
For the weeds, never sparring the garden spoon
Becoming the routine chore.
Little did I know the rusty signs on show
Culminated in a large spilling hole underneath
Throwing all my input under siege.
 A bond had emerged; of this Can and the flora.
Unnoticed, supplies cut, the growth rate became slower.
And slowly withered away, lifeless,
Roasted by the merciless
Sun, its red spikes poking the wretched one
Until the life-span halted, it dried out,
Startled, my eyes in akimbo only flickered hopelessly
Like a candle, struggling against the whirlwind,
Though held strongly
Nothing could stop it from being blown off-
And then Darkness –
This there upon remained with me
Inevitably still with me.
When will it take its leave, I care not
I forget not the destruction of so bright a life
With loneliness and nostalgia, the reality strife
Where memories, painted black surface each hour
Patching through the destruction of the watering can
And then the flower.


Wednesday, March 9, 2011



In front, our heads bow,
In our minds, but how?
Don’t worry, it’s the super-substitute,
Replacing a great institute,
Waylaying happiness,
Installing sadness.
We keep on calling,
We can’t keep off falling,
No doubt it’s over.
Are we getting older?
Think not this wind has come to a standstill,
Only the coldness to feel,
At the same time emotions to conceal
Thrust in a carcass to seal,
A chance we missed,
Forever may-be, the deceased.
                                                 Tatenda W Mhlanga                                        

Tuesday, March 8, 2011



In sport we cheer
As we won’t fear,
A loss that is part of this dear
Game that would be always at hand
IS death more of a game like this?
In difficulties we try
Not to wait and stand-by,
As we strive to make things okay,
To fulfill the promise of day.
How do we endeavour in times of death?
In religion we pray,
Not afraid to carry
The burden of our lord
Who saddled our load
To save us the whole lot
Of debaucheries and sorts.
Imagine this when death comes.
If the sun will shine again tomorrow
It will be clear enough that sorrow
Is the prize we pay as homage to death,
A sense of inexperience to bereavement.
If that was so, how many would have courage.
The answer is, in death we shade tears,
This shows our deepest feelings,
On this tussling game
Of life, happiness or sadness-damn,
All thrown into an invisible dam.
That’s what we do when we face death.
In times of death so high are emotions,
The adrenaline pumping in motion,
Or the heart beat and blood cell in caution,
“I’ve lost my mum, my dad-oh my cousin,”
Surely in times of death there is no controlling.
To the deceased we feel pity
Here and there sing a ditty,
To lament our love simply
Because we respect and heartily
Pray that, “may the soul rest in peace.”
In the trying times of death- we piss.
When death comes we weep,
Unable to contain or keep
Emotions from outrage and throw tantrums,
“If I could I would have done something.”
But as at is, there is nothing
That can stop death from stripping everything.
After all, in sport we cheer
In difficulties we try,
In religion we pray.
All in all in our ability
But what about in death?
Think about it and bet
In time of death.                   



Friday, February 25, 2011



Is where you are wanted son.
The frivolous storm has gone,
In place, everything is back again
If you want, I’ll lay out a bait
Mum is back, so is Cindy.
Home wants you back sonny
And with you there, we’ll reunite
Thus I want you dead or alive.

You rather feel, you are nothing but dead,
It isn’t that bad,
It’s an experience
Adjusting tomorrow’s appearance.
Don’t despair,
You’ve got someone to inspire,
A lesson worth to realize,
Mistakes to correct, preventing an imminent demise,
Only if me and home receive you either dead or alive.

The onus is on mine side this time,
Poor us we had to fight
A dismantled jaw; a bloody war in sight.
She injured, went away, I had led home astray,
A place we all belonged to.
Again your mum and Cindy I had to woo,
They are back home now,
Only you left-I know, for you it’s hard
Home where?
Some where there
Where my two arms lay open
In anticipation, smeared in warmth
The time at home you will arrive
I don’t care, dead or alive.

Wake up from your state of partiality
Shake the death blues into reality,
Death, the destruction of a bright life
Like perishing holding a loaded rifle.
There is still life, get on moving
Home, where it dwells a sense of belonging,
Restoration of pride,
When you hear a survival vibe
Full of life, not dead but alive.


                                                            Tatenda W Mhlanga