Thursday 26 April 2012

Prostituting Soldier.....




Multiple choices she disregared,
with a smile costing much undisputed,
touch irresistable,
like a pure prostituting soldier
she defeated me.
Stupidly i surrendered.
It's not like i had choice,
damn it's bad and very bad cause i'm off bed.
Ohh damn this pains are getting me back to bed.
It's bad she still front-face other guys
who soon gonna be like me.
Undefeated prostituting soldier.
She looked nothing less to a model.
pic source "state of the nation'' by kudzanai chiurai

Her beauty damn
perhaps thats what made me put my weapons down.
She was on target
strategically placed.
Panty thrown intentionally on my face
blinded i was.
Irresistable more turns i took.
Life was a joy, she defined it.
Multiple choices she disregarded,
with a smile costing much undisputed,
touch irresistable
like a pure prostituting soldier
she defeated me.
Stupidly i surrendered.
Cause i am dead alive
for useless i became
stupid i was proven
she intentionaly infected me with HIV/AIDS

By Stephen Raseona  (Bua Poetry-Theatre Word )  ( South Africa )

Tuesday 24 April 2012

Not Everyone........

Not everyone,is as fortunate as yourself,

graced the power of opportunity to skim through this,

blesses thus this chance not miss.

Tell me that old tiny tale,

throw caution to the wind,

for all our capacities of comprehension can fathom,

they could be a feast for the termites below,

or seeking the light at the end of an unknown tunnel in the next world,

for all we know,

this,is the seed for ages in our mind we sow...



Not everyone,is like you,

comfortable in the softness of your comfort,

secure in the walls that secure your safety,

for all we can attempt to contemplate,

they could be subjects to the sinister volatile world,

vulnerable to nights' evil therapy,

while the wind that so loudly howls,
















  • their body heat prowls,

    bites their toes,hinders the delight of evening's rest,

    that's how good it gets at its' best...


    mbare musika by Lovemore Kambudzi

    Not everyone,is able to be in your kitchen,

    aromatic,savoury here,

    succulent,delectable,sweet there.

    Your reserves brimming to the rim,

    cappucino filled with whipped cream,

    a joy for your digestive system.

    For all we care,

    they could be devouring the menial remnants of your burnt pasta,

    or fighting over what remains off a stew gone wrong,

    when,why,for how long?



    Not everyone,can wear the clothes you parade.

    Cheap like salt or expensive like a weave that looks real,

    who cares,what matters is,you have them,can't you feel.

    For all we take no time to notice,

    they could be wearing the rag on Christmas from your mum your aunt refused,

    or joined ancient parchments,the church mice are bemused.

    Clothing filled with spots and gaps,almost if not camouflage,

    hiding away the flesh from perverts and paedophiles...



    Not everyone,has a smile on their face like you,

    or love abundant as the air we inhale,well within their reach,

    for all we ignore and live on,

    they could be delving in the playground of death,

    somewhere in the Middle East,

    where whose woes nobody could care the least.

    Or succumbing to calamity inflicted by nature's anger,

    or grieving a loved one long lost,

    or enduring an ordeal too unbearable,

    a pain whose extremes are incredible...



    For all we even dare to care,

    we are statues,we glare and stand to stare...

    By Alex Nyasha Dube ( Zimbabwe )

    Tuesday 17 April 2012

    Ufck this isht is getting worse.....

    She told me i am all she never had,
    i was
    appreciating,caring,honest,truthful
    and loving her so bad,
    she swore she'd never let me go astray,
    instead my heart's left with burnt marks like an ashtray.

    Kissed my forehead good night in my heart i prayed to God it aint a goodbye.
    Made me face everyday with a
    smile so wide and eyes with hope so bright,
    i never knew that kinda love will ever die,
    i'm on a mission to forget her, it's hard but i try.

    The chick served me her heart on a platinum platter,
    got on top of every roof to tell the world that i'm hers,
    today i'm collecting pieces of heart she scattered,
    even the simplest words "I Love
    You" have dried in her throat...


    By  Nomthandazo Tsembeni  "Lola-Lady Black Poet"  ( South Africa )


    picture credits: www.20somethingsurvivor.wordpress.com

    Where The White Roses Grow


    I wanted to come back, over the summer

    But one day took another

    Just like when you walked amongst us

    I thought of you every day

    But I never let you know

    Now you lie silent

    Where the white roses grow

    Where the white roses grow



    Locked in the holy sacrament

    Of the naked truth

    This is a piece of life

    No one will ever know

    Locked in the holy sacrament

    Of stolen youth

    This is a tragedy

    Left untold



    Now a cold wind is blowing amongst the tombstones

    And one day take another

    Just like when we cried at your funeral

    I think of you every day

    But I can’t make myself go

    Silent and alone

    Where the white roses grow

    Where the white roses grow



    Locked in the holy sacrament

    Of the naked truth

    This is a piece of life

    No one will ever know

    Locked in the holy sacrament

    Of stolen youth

    This is a tragedy

    Left untold


    By Mette Stenfalk  ( Denmark )

    Slippin’ away


    (This piece was inspired by the title of Paul Simon’s ‘Slip Slidin’ away’)

    I’m Slippin away.

    The notes you wrote on my heart,

    The chords you play for my every breath,
    The strings you strum to my heart beat,
    The touch of your veins that runs through my veins,
    The way your sweet scent terrorizes my very being.
    I feel like I’m being choked,
    A grasp upon my throat,
    A grasp upon my heart,
    A grasp upon my life.
    I’m slippin away bit by bit,
    My life leaves me breath by breath,
    My heart disappears beat upon beat,
    My veins burst bit by bit,
    My breath fails bit by bit.
    I’m slippin’ away!

    By  Rutendo Chabikwa  ( Zimbabwe )


    http://rutendochabikwa.wordpress.com/2012/04/01/slippin-away/

    Thursday 12 April 2012

    She.......


    Her clothes scantily placed
    cleavage out,short miniskirt lasciviously dressed
    womanhood exposd
    loose man's feelings aroused.

    She moves about in search of her prey
    lurking the dark city night in notes and coins
    they must pay.
    To quench their sexual appetite that hunger the ache of their loins.

    Her face laden wth too much mascara,hides her age,her past her history
    her love's in a cage her past just but a mystery.

    The noise she makes as she paces the quiet night wth her stilleto
    This darkness hides her deeds
    her fear of being caught in this flagrante delicto
    all her clients,loose adultrous man she has tamed
     fear of the disease thrown through the window,that wife soon to become a widow,all in search of  Her eternal pleasure.

    By Chris Chakwana ( Zimbabwe )

    Women's day...........

    It's women's day today.
    They'll be praised and honoured.
    It's women's day :
    They'll be busy
    Healing the wounds,
    Calving the next generation,
    Enshrouding the dead.
    They'll be moving on from pots to pans,
    From dust to dirty linen,
    Busy feeding various male hungers,
    Caring for the careless,
    Looking after the disabled,
    Soothing great fears,
    Smoothing grand ideologies.
    They'll be engaged
    In cleaning baby and dying asses,
    Making their small way through the world's crass,
    Fueling the world's energies at their prayers.
    They'll be evicted
    From high positions,
    Withdrawn from honours, politics and money.
    They'll plant the seeds
    And harvest tears,
    Secure an ounce of peace in wars.
    It is women's day today,
    As happens once every 365 days.
    It's women's day today.
    The men are away.

    By Brigitte Poirson ( France )