Waist
of words, no waisted time
if music still resides here.
To dance well
don't hate verbs.
Learn to kick nouns
in the ass and wipe
feet on adjectives.
That's what she does,
Yondo--perfect poetry
packaged in the fabric of time,
coil of past and future,
where the present
cannot stop to bloom.
That vortex, prelude
to the tropical storm
of her dancing, waist
of no wasted words.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Tales Today, Tales Tomorrow
They left this morning
for the summit, to see
the sun dancied
for the new year.
We too used to go there at dawn,
Pegged the perfect spot
On the highest point of Chisiya,
Our own Kilimanjaro here,
When it finally peeped out
The sun would find we had already
Danced its message, and the new year
Was already croaking its budding message,
And when we insisted on looking
To see how the sun winced,
We walked away, aware that although
disappointed, it would never scotch
Scotch us with its anger.
They came back and said they saw it.
We nodded, understanding that they
Would die to know one day
They will sit like us now
And not even pretend to believe.
They too will look at own
Returning from summits with tales
Of sun's soukous and ululatation
And will not nod without belief.
for the summit, to see
the sun dancied
for the new year.
We too used to go there at dawn,
Pegged the perfect spot
On the highest point of Chisiya,
Our own Kilimanjaro here,
When it finally peeped out
The sun would find we had already
Danced its message, and the new year
Was already croaking its budding message,
And when we insisted on looking
To see how the sun winced,
We walked away, aware that although
disappointed, it would never scotch
Scotch us with its anger.
They came back and said they saw it.
We nodded, understanding that they
Would die to know one day
They will sit like us now
And not even pretend to believe.
They too will look at own
Returning from summits with tales
Of sun's soukous and ululatation
And will not nod without belief.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tea & Toiling
We drink our tea with sugar and cream
Always,
Even some say try black.
Tea & Toiling,
That was the motto in Mototi
When rain remembered home
And the river liked to roar.
If you drink tea
Before you carry hoes
And weed all day,
You want it with sugar and cream
To make toiling sweat as harvests.
Always,
Even some say try black.
Tea & Toiling,
That was the motto in Mototi
When rain remembered home
And the river liked to roar.
If you drink tea
Before you carry hoes
And weed all day,
You want it with sugar and cream
To make toiling sweat as harvests.
Words Like Floods
Runde always roared
when rains hummered Mazvihwa
and we did not know anymore
what the sun looked like.
When a river speaks
It helps to listen
and bag those words
before they grow wings
and fly away, but we let
Runde fly through time
And now, sitting here,
I am one of a few
Who listened just once.
when rains hummered Mazvihwa
and we did not know anymore
what the sun looked like.
When a river speaks
It helps to listen
and bag those words
before they grow wings
and fly away, but we let
Runde fly through time
And now, sitting here,
I am one of a few
Who listened just once.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Ehe, For Real
Now they tell us
we can't talk about these things
unless if a big name like CNN
pays us to report poverty
in these places. And we tell
them "these places" are our homes
and they look
at us and say,
"For real?"
we can't talk about these things
unless if a big name like CNN
pays us to report poverty
in these places. And we tell
them "these places" are our homes
and they look
at us and say,
"For real?"
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