GOING ASTRAY

i cannot stand by and watch

watching my people going astray

watching my people making the wrong choices

that is not the way of the liberator

that is not the way of the leader

anointed by the mighty gods

my people are perpetual minors

cannot tell right from wrong

they listen to the wrong gospel

spread day and night by little dots

my people cannot choose this way

that leads them to the chains of slavery

that leads them to the bondage

the bondage of colonialism

i know what is right for my people

they will only prosper under my rule

i cannot watch them waste their votes

wrought through a bitter armed struggle

woe unto those that lead them astray

taking the sheep from the shepherd

BEYOND THE HOPELESSNESS

will time heal these wounds

these wounds inflicted on me

inflicted by my own flesh and blood

will time heal these wounds

inflicted by my brothers and sisters

while my parents ululate

will that laughter die

the laughter of foreigners

those laughing at our foolishness

what lessons shall we learn

perfecting the instruments of torture

that we are less human

what lessons shall we learn

that dangerous claim to superiority

that we can pick up the broken pieces

pick them up and move on

THE OBDURATE ONE

smack in the face

truth delivers a back hander

jolting you to your senses

obduracy has the better of you

then your raving and ranting

a fish out of water

your life fast dissipating

you and the people

the impossibility of blending

water and oil cannot blend

procrastinating the inevitable

revolution time is here

ASSAULTED DREAM

that dream severely assaulted

severely assaulted by those bereft of thinking

those that seek to erase our memories

memories of the african struggle

the struggle against those crimes

those crimes against humanity

the crimes of slavery,colonialism,neo-colonialism

that dream severely battered by those miscreants

treating fellow citizens like vermin

pleasing those that doubt our humanity

that inherited dream severely assaulted

the dream of our greatness

the dream inherited from our patriots and our matriots

the lofty dream of a great africa

not this rich africa that feeds foreign children

this continent rich in resources yet wallowing in poverty

wallowing in this abject poverty all around us

this poverty that makes us pawns in evil schemes

those evil schemes that make us our own enemies

the dream shall live on forever

time shall heal this deep wound

the time for that healing is now

hear the trumpet of hope now blowing

POEMS ABOUT THE XENOPHOBIC ATTACKS OR WHATEVER YOU CALL THE ATTACKS

THE DEEP SEA AND THE DEVIL
the drought and hunger
shocking levels of unemployment
the ominous emptiness
mounds of dead and decaying dollars
jumping out of the frying pan

marauding gangs of robbers
the man eating crocodiles
turbulence in the limpopo river
the search for the elusive rand
dreams of Egoli now nightmares
the smell of death everywhere
jumping into the fire again

THE UNWITTING PROXIES

wielding axes, pangas,pistols
an asssortment of weapons

the blood spilling
the proxies at it

those deep divisions
that legacy to the fore

the reverence for the madness
the 1884 madness

2008 AFRICA DAY PRESENT

africa day present from south africa
the burning,looting and killing in glee
from the victims of apartheid
who yesterday sought refuge
who today forget their africanness
another truth and reconciliation commission
to expose the present day murderers
the inexplicable mayhem in the ghettoes
that black blood continually spilled
what is this now children of the rainbow nation
the blood of your kith and kin wails
the mark of the beast plain to see
your 2008 africa day present south africa
the deafening silence of progressive forces

SHATTERING THE DREAM

those lofty dreams
that spirit of pan africanism
this major set back
fiery fires of xenophobia
hear the wailing african children

south africa see the shame
the scorn is upon you
whose song is this you sing
what became of the rainbow
today the colour red only

the deep respect for colonial borders
what has become of the african renaissance
what wiry, ghoulish hand is this
the primeval beast devouring us
turning dreams into nightmares


i am nauseated by the xenophobic attacks that are perpetrated on the so-called foreigners by some south africans.

these xenophobic attacks are a major blemish on the whole of south africa.i wonder how south africa will clean its soiled image.its image has taken a serious battering through the senseless attacks on the so-called foreigners.

i say 'so- called foreigners' because i do not believe that i am a foreigner in any country in africa.my thinking is simple.the borders that we so tenaciously cling to are a foreign creation.in case some south africans do not know this let me say it clearly.our fore parents were not consulted when the looters' conference was held in berlin , germany in 1884!

zimbabwe and south africa are merely divided by a river called the limpopo.it is as simple as that!we have social,cultural,economic,political,geographical ties that are somewhat unbreakable despite the despicable and nauseating xenophobic attacks we are currently witnessing.

when south africa was under stinking, oppressive apartheid rule there were many who fled from persecution at the hands of the brutal and subhuman regime.those that fled to neighbouring countries like zimbabwe,zambia,mozambique were given refuge.this is a fact and not fiction.ask thabo mbeki himself .

i write this out of righteous indignation.the madness must simply stop.the plotters must be snuffed out and dealt with accordingly.the attacks are not at all spontaneous.they are well calculated and very well sponsored.the attackers are merely pawns in a dangerous game they remotely understand.they have lived with the so-called foreigners for many years and peacefully.the disadvantages have been with south africans for a long time. the xenophobic attacks are a new phenomenon with a hidden agenda.

divide and rule the africans.show them that they cannot tolerate their own kith and kin from elsewhere on the continent.maybe take the world cup from them for they are worse than beasts!

south africans wake up and smell the coffee!

shattered dreams

rainbow nation in shame
red is the dominant colour
the blood of other african children
the pan african dream dented
shaming the african renaissance
turning to garbage those struggles
that african emancipation going to waste
a wiry, ghoulish hand behind it all
a primeval beast devouring our dreams
in the vortex of violence steeped
the divide and rule tactics still here
african revolutionaries scorned
the rainbow swallowed by deep darkness
what rainbow nation to talk about
the refuge in other parts of africa forgotten
the devil having his human barbecue
where to african renaissance

DEVOID OF SUBSTANCE

the blips and blunders not new
the denial of that scourge
add to that the beet root suggestion
a legacy of buffoonery dogging you
a matter of life and death it is
writing your own thesaurus or dictionary
it is no crisis at all to you
maybe you wanted to term it a catastrophe
sorry we misunderstood your reasoning

the maggot infested corpses along the limpopo
having fallen prey to even your dogs of war
the meals for the man eating crocodiles
the stench of xenophobia there for you
maybe you are deeply cocooned
get a new term for the xenophobia
get your spin doctors to coin more denial
the stories wil be told of your blundering

COMPATIBLE

a square peg in a round hole

a rat and cat friendship

blending water and oil

hear my lively ululation

the hyena and the goats at peace

a round peg in a square hole

the height of perfect blending

TALK IS CHEAP

that question irrelevant

then you answered it

ever the philosophical one

told her to go to hell

enthusiastically she went



staring death in the face

harangued by the prayers

fervent prayers of apostates

talk is very cheap

thought they had you



she did not listen

that out of place turd

the roots could not succumb

that concerted uprooting

bask in the glory of victory

THE NEW DANCE

the stylus is stuck

the monotony of it

the mad man does his dance

the ululation continues

the mad man still at it

the new dance is yet to begin

new dancers in the wings

waiting for their chance

surely they will dance

[this poem is dedicated to all progressive zimbabweans]

BAD MOUTH COMRADE

spewing those caustic words

bad mouthing the future

regret will be your seat

there you will wallow

in the murky water of shame

blinded by those trinkets

steeped in our blood

enjoying those stolen fruits

watered by our misery

ever heard of the last laugh

ever heard the wisdom

what goes round comes around

the lessons plain to see

TAKEN HOSTAGE

the children wailed long and loud

the terrorists were at it

killing and maiming those that dared

those that dared to challenge the shitstem*

not one lifted a finger to help

the hostages had long been taken

voices in the wilderness warned

the perils of the personality cult

the hostages were dying in droves

putrid policies of non interference

in the steel grip of paranoia

the cowards lashed out viciously

voices cry out in the wilderness

the killing becomes addictive

the unprecedented levels of paranoia

in droves the hostages are dying

who will come to their rescue?

[shitstem means shit system]

DERANGED

for the umpteenth time

saying this same message

we are in this psychiatric ward

hear the demented voices

the hallucinations abound

cacophony of deranged voices

the unprovoked attacks everywhere

hear the demented voices

THE WRITING ON THE WALL

gripped by that euphoria

you did not take stock

that trap set for the mouse

then even the elephant met its end

alarm bells were ringing

the knife that cut the wedding cake

the bride it sent packing to the grave

warned you of the unbridled greed

warned you of the excesses of power

the warnings drowned in your accolades

see now their contempt for the people

hear the vibrations of arrogance

the ballot transformed into the bullet

gang raping of the nation

the trauma plain to see

the meek equated with the weak

robbery carried out in broad daylight

even witches and wizards have shame

that wheel has turned full circle

the writing is there on the wall

SHITSTEM CRUMBLING

the residue of the nocturnal activities

the pungent smell of urine

threatening waves of despair in the mind

human excreta in sanitary lanes

throwing the mind in turmoil

the signature of failure evident

mastering a new art on the streets

dodging the mounds of garbage

this could be the new civilisation

am dragging myself from despair

failure can never be an option

*shitstem stems from shit and system.i learnt of it from the music and interviews of the late winston hubert mackintosh[peter tosh].it is a 'word' used to express dissatisfaction with misrule or mismanagement.let the progressive dictionaries of the world carry the word!languages cannot remain conservative.change the shituation[shit situation]

CHAMPIONS OF STRUGGLE

they immerse themselves

immerse themselves in the blood

that sacred blood of the slain

those slain searching for liberty

scythed by those privileged

seeking status quo maintenance

in the lap of luxury living

they immerse themselves

immerse themselves in the blood

that blood spilled for freedom

arduous battles they claim

gruesome tales they tell

the champions of our emancipation!

the rest of us labelled spectators

watching gladiators in blood curdling duels

heroes sing songs of self praise

TO A SLUT

that racist shit
you threw into my meal
your alcohol drenched mind
that lump in my throat
you, opening the healing wound
those centuries of oppression
that was not kindergarten material
not one could restrain your foul mouth
the stench pervaded the bar
sucking all into the vortex of violence
you sang the wrong and discordant tune
making the blood of my ancestors boil
civility got the better of me
could have pounded you to pulp
you took advantage of the achilles heal
that makes the victim apologise
that makes me extend the hand
extending the hand of reconciliation
for me to be smote again and again
that pool of patience is drying up

POLITICIANS LIKE NAPPIES HAVE TO BE CHANGED OFTEN AND FOR THE SAME REASON!

PEOPLE' SERVANTS

the dog fights
juicy bone at stake
that is the bottom line
falling over each other
just to be servants
the masses are the masters
feeding on the crumbs
falling from servants' tables
the left over masses
the rest decimated
wallowing in squalor
feeding from garbage bins
just take a look

WARPED STORY

the story is warped
that reversal of roles
the servant is master
that story is warped
the leader is master
pampered by the servants
living in abject poverty
drinking dirty water
smote by hunger and thirst
the ubiquitous shack dwellers

HEY![WHEN THE WARRIOR POET IS NOT FIGHTING AGAINST EVIL IN HIGH AND LOW PLACES!]

SWEETLY CHAINED

ensnared by your sweet charms
am a willing prisoner
up the hills and down the valleys
at your sacred well
there i will quench my thirst
the taste of your cooking
i may not just be a passerby

KEEPING THE FIRE BURNING

tasting the sweetness
the sweetness of imagination
kindling the love fire
keeping wintry nights at bay
longing for a tight embrace
for you are miles away
seeking solace in poets' words
loneliness makes the heart grow fonder
longing to be with you
sharing our hopes , fears and dreams
listening to our profound thoughts
sharing the sweetness of togetherness
kindling that love fire forever

TO YOU WOMAN

that day i remember
clearly etched in my mind
you walked in through the door
the swish swash of your dress
then i instinctively looked up
the fragrance of your perfume
then my nostrils twitched
your dazzling, sparkling teeth
there and then i was hypnotised
speech then deserted me
then your sing -song voice
and i was dumb struck
your voice caressed my soul
then i gave you dominion
the eloquence of my silence
then i knew you would be mine
all i could say was 'good bye'
i still yearn to see you again
forever you will cast away my pain

POLY TRICKS [OR IS IT POLITICS] POETRY AT WORK

promises and lies

on the podiums
the con-artists at it

hear the oratory
the dew-like promises

their henchmen at it
in towns, cities and villages

gratuitously dispensing violence
pleasing the sadistic masters

con-artists with poly tricks
raping the people again

those bags of poly tricks
the demise is at hand


once bitten

out of their cocoons
sleeping in huts on reed mats
throwing trinkets like confetti
the floods of sweet promises
opportunists and their henchmen
giving rides in fast imported cars
building the false consciousness

then the deathly silence comes
the broken or forgotten promises
the richman's heaven is the poorman's hell
with their concubines wining and dining
elsewhere the whirlwinds and dust
they are gone, gone for a long time

to a nutty professor

then you had incisive thoughts
delivering telling blows
the thunder and lightning of protest
then you tasted the evil candy
joined the obscene wining and dining
the songs of praise submerged the dirges
[will you say you were the cancer?]
din of doubt in our minds
that protracted assault on independent thought
the truncheons outpaced thought
those draconian pieces of legislation
that we forever bitterly remember

jilted lover

the sweet caresses
the succulent love making
a match made in heaven
seemingly eternal bliss

then the promises and lies
the fire died then
the jilted lover on the rampage
holding onto illusions

the dawning reality
blows and kicks replace caresses
rival suitors bruised
erstwhile lover raped!


bird of prey

despondency like a bird of prey
in its claws holds our hopes
tearing to shreds our aspirations
devouring our cherished future

but look at our resilience
the vampires cannot hold sway
ours is a righteous fight
throw the heavy armour away

could these be the days of old
the days of the sling and the stone
the days of the donkey jaw bone
the fate of the jericho walls

that hope refuses to die
that bird of prey is smote
hot lead pierces its heart
the chicks grow unharmed

gods ahead[poem one] and emancipation day[poem two]

down on our knees we go
worshipping those little gods
the insatiable gods of lust
the lust for power
insatiable lust for sex
the insatiable lust for nicotine
the little gods in our safes and wallets
the songs of praise we sing
the shrines we build for the gods
there is our demise
that is how the gods reward us

poem two

garland of human skulls
striding majestically to podiums
diarrhoea speech noone has ears for
cheered on by gaunt, derelict skeletons
then a deathly silence reigns
the great wizard at the banquet
sumptuous meal of human liver
drinking human blood for wash down
muffled voices of gaunt, derelict skeletons
the voices will reach a crescendo
the invincibility of king owl now a myth

JABULANI

justice is what i yearn for
and on that there is no compromise
better take flight you wicked ones
uncompromising is this fighter
lashing out viciously at vampires
annihilating the ubiquitous evil schemes
not pandering to the whims of the wicked
in the perpetual struggle for justice


the first letter of each line[read downwards]spells out my name:jabulani[rejoice or be happy]
i wrote these lines to constantly remind mysef and others that i am a child of the struggle against evil schemes wherever they are.[talk of the struggles in palestine.afghanistan,iraq,tibet,zimbabwe,south africa,sudan,nigeria hey everywhere where there is a struggle for justice.]injustice is what i detest most.justice is what i yearn for.come help me sing this song of righteous indignation!

ART AND CRISES

there is something very strange about the connection between art and crises.some of the greatest works of art have emerged during times of crises in human lives.

maybe this is what led shimmer chinodya[zimbabwean author] to say,'writing is drawn more towards pain than happiness.'i strongly believe he was correct when he made a statement to that effect.

the repression in czarist russia seems to have made the creative juices of writers like nikolai gogol flow.i have read his short story entitled ' the great coat'.it is a great story which essentially is a serious indictment of czarist bureaucracy.

the witty play' the government inspector' by the same author is satiric of the corrupt tendencies of russian public officials in that era.

in respect of visual arts[painting in particular] i am aware of the painting 'guernica' by pablo picasso.it evokes images of what happened during the nazi bombing of guernica, spain.the tragedy inspired picasso to paint 'guernica'.

closer to home[zimbabwe] i have read some of the works of malawian poets jack mapanje and frank chipasula.the crisis that banda was in malawi inspired these poets to compose poems that leave one mesmerised.just leaf through the pages of 'of chameleons and gods' by jack mapanje and whet your appetite.the hard hitting works of frank chipasula in 'whispers in the wings' will leave you nodding in agreement that art thrives where crises abound!

back home[zimbabwe]i still can recall the hard hitting lyrics of the songs of dr thomas tafirenyika mapfumo.the crisis that rhodesia was,greatly inspired this musician.even post independence the numerous crises bedevilling zimbabwe made him compose songs with prophetic lyrics.

i do not know what the great debacle on election results in zimbabwe has yielded in terms of works of art.when the crisis is over i will seek to coordinate the publication of works of art created during this other sad chapter in our history[herstory too].i am almost certain that our artists[myself included] are busy.the creative juices are flowing in the midst of this ominous chaos!

WARPED MINDS

[poem dedicated to the child soldiers used as pawns in mindless wars in africa.]
the village playground robbed
the resonating laughter is gone
young minds are now warped
the sacrosanct is profaned
unbridled lust for power
that is reigning supreme
with the aid of mind bending drugs
children turned into primeval beasts
children robbed of their innocence
turned into merchants of death
shooting, killing, burning and looting
evil men and women at the helm
sipping coffee and tea in plush offices
the unbridled lust for power
the village playground is robbed
the vibrant african laughter is gone
now is the redemption time