SWEEPING

wield the broom now
sweep out the garbage
these polluted minds
minds brimming with corruption
even men of the cloth
there below the cross
the horror show is on
not one seems spared
fornication even in the church yard
hiding beneath mounds of hypocrisy
now wield the broom
this nation under strangulation

GRAND VISION

not delusions of grandeur
not just an illusion
that is not a mirage
a profound vision
that looming greatness
anointed by the maker
called for a mission divine
the children in bondage
breaking those chains
spreading this message
chanting down jericho walls
babylon crumbling like a sand castle

VIBRATIONS OF VIOLENCE

dying bulawayo

sense of smell smote
stench of urine and shit
pronounced in the city centre

sense of sight smote
everywhere garbage mounds
right there in the city centre

evidence of neglect exhibited
the decadence and decay in the city
bulawayo slowly and painfully dying

the shadows moving about
stinking business deals conducting
oblivious of mounds of trash

[BULAWAYO is the second largest city/shitty in zimbabwe]

VENCEREMOS

in cheap t-shirts clad
fed on alcohol and drugs
spreading the web of fear
propping dangerous personality cult
messengers of death everywhere
kith and kin bludgeoning to death
one song must be sung
every other song is dung
waves of intolerance spreading
chaining those desiring freedom
out of this morass our lives
bursting out of the bud of poverty
between the hammer and tongs of hardships
fashioning real men and women

[ connectivity is proving to be a hassle really. it is for that reason that this blogspot is not being updated with the regularity it has always had.i vow to soldier on in spite of these difficulties.this and future generations must know what is behind these works.i am not a quitter.i will surmount these difficulties.hope is the drug that will cure us of the disease called despair.i live in the garden of inspiration.i must accomplish the mission that my maker has set for me.travel then with me on this long journey.backsliders we will not tolerate! enjoy these works.do not sing songs of praises where these are not due.sing the dirges where there is need.failure to sing the dirges is what has put us where we are now.listen!]

IN THE HANDS OF EVIL

bombarded by those images
images of gloom and doom
images of hopelessness everywhere
questioning our collective conscience
the media stands accused
fanning fiery fires of xenophobia
stand up men and women of conscience
the verdict is indeed yours

POEMS ON THE THIN LINE BETWEEN LOVE AND HATE

WALKING THROUGH HEART ACHES

tears ordinary
they do not move me

con-artists abound
parading their tears

tears of blood
maybe their uniqueness

tired of cheating games
then i move on

OUTSIDE

that door you slammed
'bang' in my face
that was it

then you shut me out
pushed me away
violently shoving me

the joy on the outside
that i began to accept
enjoying it even

now you try to reach out
trying to embrace me
maybe i belong to the outside

GONE SOUR

when it becomes oil and water
read the writing on the wall

kick heartaches in the face
with raised head move on

see the silver lining
that dark cloud drifts away

those wounds now heal
fresh love is on the way

SOMETHING NOTHING DIED

take your affection elsewhere
something that never was died
thought it was called love
but that infatuation long died
call it the dawning of reality

THANKS TO THE DAUGHTERS OF ZEUS.THANKS TO THE FATAL ARROWS OF CUPID!THE FOLLOWING POEM HOWEVER IS INSPIRED BY EROS.

TO ANOTHER DANCER

it is that time again
the time for a new dancer
hear the sweet melodies
the dancers' nimble feet
the latent sweetness
there is no audience here
for it is a private dance
kept from prying eyes
that dance is sacred

ERASING MY MEMORIES

mutabaruka then you moved me
to take up arms against apartheid
the killings in soweto, in sharpeville
the bombing of exiles in zimbabwe
the bombings in mozambique
the bombings in zambia and elsewhere

peter tosh you moved me to tears
moving me to fight against apartheid
that callous jailing of nelson mandela
the hanging of little talked of poet benjamin moloise
the mysterious death of steve bantu biko
the shameful slaying of samora machel
the deaths of all heroic sons and daughters

how can i forget dennis brutus
choose to forget ruth first
choose to forget umkhonto we sizwe
separate me from that struggle
that african struggle for freedom

these attacks on so-called foreigners
the smell of burning human flesh
those all too familiar photos
the infamous necklacing of fellow victims
fellow victims of poverty, ignorance and disease

the shocking violence on fellow africans
the displacement of fellow citizens
europe dismantles her borders
we slavishly cling to colonial legacies
who alienates me from my struggle
who seeks to erase my memories

IN THE GARDEN OF INSPIRATION[POEMS]

THE EXORCISM

see the dark clouds
the dark clouds of evil

the air is humid
ubiquitous hate speech

what now nation builders
all the mudslinging

listen to the statesmen
their words pure venom

frothing at the mouths
no distinction between opponents and enemies

to the throne by any means
murder, rape,kidnapping

the nation lifeless
in the web of fear

see the dark clouds
the dark clouds of evil

the thunder of their oratory
the lightning of poverty

satisfying their evil egos
nothing for us in all this

we refuse to be cannon fodder
refuse to be pawns in their games

RED CARPET

when they roll out the red carpet
then my heart skips a beat
taught to revile the colour red
that i could be struck by lightning
that it symbolises death and destruction
they walk on the red carpet
the blood of the sufferers under their feet

NO LOOKING BACK

the echoes of your words
chenjerai hove i hear them
i wanted to be scorched first
then i would know fire burns
to the medicine men i went
asked for that unique gift
to see ghosts and goblins
today i am stuck with that gift
the medicine men cannot take it back
the ghosts and goblins i still see