with mud and spittle[ a poem inspired by the latest round of xenophobic attacks in south africa]

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that dream should be on course
that those fractured lives
may once more be mended

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that which led to umkhonto we sizwe
forging close ties with zipra
combined forces for a worthy cause

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that you may lead african rennaisance
that you may know your africanness
that you may never again be blinded

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that you may vividly see
that the crumbs are not worth it
that the best is yet to come

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that you may see this fratricide
that the real wealth is not in shacks
but siphoned away to their capital cities

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that the evil axis benefits
that the anglo-saxon alliance gains
when you kill your own kith and kin

with mud and spittle
south africa regain your sight
that you may put the final nail
into the coffin of apartheid
that the pan african dream lives

tragedy

tragedy

when mothers die
die during national service
replenishing the national supply
the national supply of workers
that is a tragedy

war torn souls

they know the wailing
the wailing of their raped mothers

they do not know of the laughter
nor the songs of joy at the playing fields

they do not know of the school bell
but the stuttering of assault rifles

the smell of strewn dead bodies
that they have become accustomed to

children robbed of their childhoods
young minds dented beyond repair

war mongers spare no thought
while the children die alive

[ inspired by having viewed a syrian boy on cnn]

equilibrium

men and women of God
wallowing in unbridled materialism
in the sewer of spiritual emptiness
most turning to men and women of gold

in those days of old
he resorted to the whip we are told
an expression of righteous indignation
today these lines are my whip

never will this be a glorification of poverty
the shepherd' staff for a stray sheep
a revulsion for counterfeit money
that journey back to an equilibrium

ON THE ROAD

so you have decided
decided to be on the road
the road to self expression
the road to your own story
the road with many hazards

so you have decided
decided to be on a collision course
with those armed with bitter prescriptions
who will tell you what song to sing
who will label your voice discordant
have you made up your mind

go to malawi and ask jack mapanje
go to mzansi and ask mzwakhe mbuli
ask rushdie of the death penalty
ask chenjerai hove or george mujajati
they may show you the way

so you have decided really
to travel along this road
littered with many pitfalls
this road that may lead to jail
that is if you are lucky
a road that may lead to the morgue

do not say i did not warn you
that they are already salivating
ready to pounce and bring forth
bring forth a deathly silence
let out a socratic laugh and drink hemlock
there you will find your immortality

THEIR WARPED THINKING


today they are at it still
chasing after the whirlwinds
trying to run away from themselves
deaf to the waves of emancipation


still thinking white is right
bleaching the ebony skin
wallowing in murky self rejection
aping the oppressors still


attaching horse hair to their heads
running away from knotted, kinky hair
seeing beauty in pencil thin bodies
rejecting the corpulent afrikan fullness 

forsaken

out of the ten lepers
just one came back
came back to thank the lord
healed of that nagging ailment

that was a son so divine
you don't doubt my immortality
what did i expect
when in the end they crucified him

the story was better with the robbers
the final score was fifty percent
cursed by one, praised by the other
the story got better in the end

the blindness you call sight
shitting and pissing in the well
tomorrow your thirst you quench
quench it at the same well