#Bring_Back_Our_Girls. "Boko Haramed" By Tatenda W Mhlanga

They disappeared with rosaries.
Now clad in hijabs, they recite the Koran.
On the news, daily, we can only watch,
With tears streaming down our faces
 Facing the prospect of shattered dreams and ageing hopes.
We join hands now with a single voice.
 "Bring back our girls".
From the jammed streets of Lagos,
To the capital Abuja, to Kano, to Aba and Kaduna.
Holding placards, hashtagged tweets,
And now from tenth Downing Street and the White House,
#Bring back our girls
We want our Flora and Fauna back,
Never mind if they have been deflowered yet
We all want them back alive.
Their mothers firmly hold their craving wombs
Their fathers plant their hands on their heads
It was never a rush of blood to the head,
It was an Italian Job. T
hey have been Boko Haramed.
Our hopes lie with Mr Government man
Good luck with that Chinekewooooooo! #Bring back our girls

An empty kitchen by Witness Hamudi

No cockroaches on the floor

Or rats sneaking through the door

Only the buzz of an empty fridge

Stocked with bottled water about to freeze.

No aroma from previously fried chips

Only a drink too stench to sip.

The switch off cooker,

Listens to the sounds from some room, of a droning hover.

Taps run dry, belching stone dry air

And fires put up warming signs, “Don’t dare go in there!”

Some, sun fried on the window sill and mummified

A bread- bin shielding a crumb of cake long dried

That once broke the tooth of one roach.

And I had to bribe them all with goch goch.

It’s only this empty kitchen left

To be swept

Before the odds and ends are taken out home

Whilst rats, cockroaches and flies are already waiting to storm it.

Tomorrow by Witness Hamudi

Tomorrow awaits with splendor

In Her hands I will but rock,

With the oboe and the spinet, there is much grandeur

To be known and crowds to shake.

With each passing day there is

Something to write about: the breeze or the next door Miss,

Whatever may be consumable to their delight.

If well put, the feeling and the rhymes,

Together with the bell’s chimes.

Tomorrow may be another day

Which would lively sound bestow and gay

That is if I stick to the oboe and spinet

Or the stages like Peter Tenet.

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

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.

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.

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

DEATHDAY by Witness Hamudi

DEATHDAY

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.

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.

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.

ugly

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

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.

Words

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.

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

TRANSCRIPTS OF MY TRANSGRESSION by Witness Hamudi

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.

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.

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.

Broken Pot

THE INNOCENCE OF THE METAL BIRD

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?

Home-mama...aa!

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....

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.