Monday, November 21, 2011
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
Where they take over in hunt of prey
Night birds-exhausted they fly not
Parroting, they cry not
Smile a lot, squeaking,
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
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
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
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
Still in the middle of a rest thats ours,
From an unknown vision, motion pictures emerge
Starring people found in life pages.
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
When the lights were more than dim
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
ova dead bodies
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
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
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
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
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
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
Friday, April 22, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
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
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
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
Saturday, April 9, 2011
I cannot bear this,
I will not bear this.
I am troubled.
What will I tell him?
How can I reveal it?
I’ve been robbed,
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 can’t wait tom live any-more
I can’t live my life any low.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
THE WATERING CAN AND THE FLOWER
Given the can led me to refuel the flowers,
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
HOME: DEAD OR ALIVE.
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.
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
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