Fie foe fum

Fie foe fum,

I see with my private eye

Cloud-nine dies high

The ganja farmer

The Buffalo soldier

The Lyrics amour,

Tongued tooth like verbal assassins

Impregnation maniacs

Record liked vibrations

Sen Sei's since that day

Vibes brothel

Rhymes cartel

Cant tell

the difference.

Between you and I

Fie foe fum,

I smell a rat hum,

a hymn in the sky.

This is the song of,

The professional bum.

Would you rescue me?

When i Listen to the stars shining inside our hut

When the flicker of light flutters inside me when you’re around

Would you dance with me after the rescue?

When the beach call is no longer a tall order

When the fancy umbrellas and colourful straws help us to down the sun

Would you fix and mend me mindfully rescue ranger?

When the danger in me is wild with desire

When the fire flings our guitar strings together

P untitled

How can you be so far?

When I tear inside

When all I want is you close

Right by my curve and my side

Picket my fence P, pickle my heart

Iron out the strain

Don’t leave me,

Hung out in disdain.

From here to there where you send sunshines

On ray boats piercing my heart stupid

With your wickedly missiled smiles

Elusively lucid in splendor

Eish, I am a moron in tongues

When you lash me with your happy voice

Catch my Pink Faya P

Dreadlocked in my deadlock around the block

I acted nutty; professing scintillated scents of your soul

Down Jeppe I hopped happily towards Bree Street, P.

Past Chicken Licken, towards Mandela’s Bridge

My thoughts of you never ever went astray like,

Bob Marley’s bright and sunny day

Potbelly smiles

GuavaJelly hides

Pineapple asides

Stolen rub-a-dubs

Catch my fire

Red rants

Catch your fire in mine

Sweet Pink bongo

Dread culture

P.

Catch my fire

Four better days P.

He wonders in his haze

Sauntering around maize fields

He erects everyday in her gaze

Walled in and porous he flirts with P

Through a Moria of peep holes

Whispering notes sent silently in between canals

Floating to her hiding spot on her island under the blue gum tree

Sometimes those messages on spring’s petals are direct as metal and free

‘In sickness and memory we will never be apart babes,

As we decipher the alphabets that string the strata in our hearts together’

He seems to say each day with different words as he slaves and prays

For better days

When it rained, P.

When it rained all my inner eyes could reach

Is you and i by the seaside

My pride was in sync with the symphony

Of the rain drops

playing with the surfaces

outside my warm cocoon

and my joy

cuddled my small coughs

as my tv flickered with noise

poised with nostalgia

i picked up the phone,

and dialed your o eight two

all starry eyed i ask

Oh my heart answer the phone;

Please P.

P.

P, I wanted your rose to kiss me softly

Right here where I clearly see,

My Sweetest Soweto memory

My three million lullabies betwixt goodbyes

Leave me wondering beyond yonder

Whether I am just playing with prayer

Or in a good way you’re just slaying me textually

Slicing my brevity away

P, My taboo, and my déjà vu

Downtown you are my brownsugar

on the eastside my chocolate cake

on the west my ice cream dream

and everywhere else my eyes see no one else but you

And you know I don’t want it to sound like that

Not in a bad way atleast, but you keep me mellow and sane

To Masego

on behalf of Tshego

Remember friend how we listened to music

Stars shining in our eyes in our nighties at our pj parties

Dreaming with our knights riding off into the sunset

You know, it’s been a while since I've seen you shine in your smile

Remember that very first time he said hello, and

You blushed

All flushed, like that song said, with fever

The diva in you sang songs of Shiva

You spoke in tongues intertwined, and

Rewrote Genesis anew

Redemption found you

In the streams of your bloodstream

Pumping to the beat of the Song of Solomon

Friend, as you and yours rewrite life anew, and

Show us how…

I see you now and you must know that,

It’s been a while since I've seen you shine in your smile.

Eish P, my pleasent fluorescent intense Incense

You know, today i wanted to write you this poem
Full of dissapointment but i could not put the verbs together
I wanted to say to you i am jealous but…
Could not put the two’s and their adverbs together
I heard the despair; i saw it from your words
I cried a wrenching cry and …
in that moment i became the wretched of the earth
and, then i heard you, i smiled and ...
googled poems i could send to you incessantly

i like you still; neccesarily.

.

Eish P.

Eish, joe! Your green dot light is off.

Offline?

This thing must lie maan,

Mara, My Heart bleats beats for you yazi;

Just say hello

I’ll be fine

I’ll surf smurf smiles I swear

Breakdance, be-bop,

Send dreadlock; weaves and waves

I’ll be top, mfana

Mara-My-Heart

Just say hello.

I’ll be fine.

Untitle my heart Nubia

I can’t help it; I get caught taking long walks around the park with Jill Scott after dark

Isaac Hayes, Clarence Carter and Mpharanyane don’t make it a simple matter of cliché’s

Dimples- somewhere close, somewhere where we can jump the primus stove

Everday and in every way in music and in the dance in your eyes
We will smile till we retire-just till we awaken our soul child squire.

yoh! subscribe

They said he writes like a scribe

But all he offered was a dollar and a bribe

While he sat downing the sun

Reading Sipho Sepamla’s The Blues is in You and Me

In the I and the envy in you

But his... his eyes stay blue and true

Blinded by the remaining remainder

He is a writer in love

Nubia where art thou?

Found her and thought there was no way I could be fond of her

Heart fondler I was but toddler in the matters of love art eish just pop fartish reality

Briskly my mind friskily flirts with the sound of her name; passersby all say, “aga shame!”

Soul bender we rock on like rebels by slender means with a roof under our heads

Singing along with the three little birds on our dub-step prepped and peppered same song

I found her and thought there was no way I could bond with her

Breakdance babe, Carolina my red red wine will the stars ever give us a chance? 

Another one for Nubia, painter of my Heart

I sat with the horn blowing my heartfelt manifesto of the heart

Alone, ostracizing the self for loving and not telling

How do I paint a picture that scripts my closeness to her aptly?

Pulpitised by my desires the scriptures knows of my sins

The trumpet is a puppet of her voice as she paints verbs

I duck and swerve, keep quiet so that silence conceals admiration

Can I talk to you painter of volatile gestures, understand my madness

Let me shun King James’ version, yours and mine could be neo-renaissance

The cymbals, flugals and the trombone blast the songs of Solomon anew

So we shall dance wherever we are welted to the ventricles that maketh Venus

In your tranquility princess I shall watch you make art no matter how hard,

I seek your heart; please let me find it where I think it is hiding, in secret.

She is from a country called Nubia :-)

Nayabinghi, spinning elements on period steroids

Shards hitting ear drums with beat hemorrhoids

Splish splash dashed from Malawi to poisonous Durban

Urban graffiti torched on Tosh’s Olympic torch

Reggaemalytis premonition, mission statements

Missionary kamasutrian Nubian melodies

Black skin sin brown sugar bubbly princessness

Jah Bless!!!

Ginger

The ginger bread man, do you understand?

Clouds are falling, clowns

The rise of the garrison of the, the sun’s son is eminent, sure

The firmament needs reinforcement and a gun on Harrison and DeKorte

Outbuildings are burning, Othello and the black ram turning short

Why are you standing over there?

With three little birds licking lollipops with Iago

One two…

One two three they burp cargo, their farting words worse than it is art

Parting the partition of the ones and twos

Now do you understand, the ginger-bread-man, man?

Nedine Lorelle Moonsamy

How she bangs against the door
how she feels threatened to the core!
Now that her letter has gone unread
Clarissa enforces dialogue instead
"Oh, God-dammit! I love you, you Bull!
It's a condition of the eye -- fuzzy as wool"
"You love me" he mutters
he tries to speak through startled-buck stutters
there are silent minutes like hours
and soon Clarissa's spirit cowers
a wall breaks and crashes into the sea
in rushes a flood of epiphany
of what, she NOW knows, was not meant to be

Kgaogelo Kwes Shaft Lekota

The Bull knows this is real, the dreams he dreams are recurrent.
They glean the clean depths of his soul with fear.
They come to him like intermittent déjà vu in invisible tears.
He likes it though,
the life that springs every time
... he steps out of his house
with the hope of seeing her.

It doesn't end,
like the embroidered memory
of the taste of strawberry
he knows it like
the fluid flow of Nesquick milk
with hopes that this is not one of those
moments that mimic a passing fling
in a tall glass.

Because her tricks humour his real days
in midspring winter mornings he plays hazy tunes
to prune his delight when he takes a blunt break
with a song of her melody for spring
she conducts his beat
the beat that Goliath didn’t hear
in his battle with the diminutive David.

The Samson in her is a biblical bohemian rhapsody
embroiled in the hubble-bubble toil and trouble scriptures
that he reads in his own private brooding spaces, so
The Bull hides behind ganja smoke and sends up a warning flare,
colourful and bare,
baring secrets that dwell like trolls waiting to emerge
with his deep defibrillated desires

He wants to whisper but, he mutters 'You love me,"
And 'tries to speak through startled-buck stutters.'
but he worries not
he is Samson singing the song of the black swan riding crimson tides
in her presence,
He smiles in his solitude and murmurs, "one day is one day, skeem."

CatWoman

Cat dance, cut; autopilot tongue whiplash, cue…

I throw up water lilies with a blow of your sweet smiling kiss

Puff that last pass I made when I was shopping rite

On free flow when your legs addressed that dress

Blessed, I see Jah rise in you; brown iced eyes

CheeseCake, your beat and drum kit splice valentines skits

with eight-steaks, two-buns and chilled winter whispers

you bake me inside out and,

warm my chips up round and round.

brighter pages

The writer and the freedom fighter

Writing the you in the I brighter

Lighting the fire lightning of contemplation

Lightening complexions in a loxion’s solidity

Composing under the duvet movements solidly

All star Moments inspired by imposing,

The tick tock in time.

Popping nuts in a rhyme bar

At night time pens and AKs

Make love between the thighs of revolution.

That’s the evolution of the far side,

The pen and the sword.

“There have been accusations of racism, that my client attacked the man because he was black. That is not true,” said Montano. May 28 2012 at 01:11pm by SAPA

For Louis Mabokela

Frantic Phantom of the Phallus

Curtains go down opera puncture boulevard

Brixton pistons pissed off

Exhaust fumes and burnt tire anthems all washed off,

Yes, curious House of Nsako rhythms in daggers

Dying dead in memories with blue rhymes

High, lying flies pouncing

With no fear for dying

Yes, they are muggers and they mug us

Meanwhile,

In the sired city hall

Hired tired,

And then fired for sleeping on the job, Mantjingilane

Marching in and within the line,

Singing Marvin Gaye’s sexual healing on the barrier line

After a while,

They, who could

Called it madness

Those who couldn’t

Were apparent crazy states of emergencies

All cleansed in intense decadence with T’s and C’s

After a while later, Goodman Gallery hired again

Good  man!

Nice one!

You will make it commander don’t worry generally

Here is a black uniform in training specifically

Determined slam dunk specialist

Head-butt practitioner

Mageza-Taxi-Driver- Limpopo- victimizer-pacifist

Smackdown, next raw medium to rare downpresser

Well done!

White with red paint respect

Light that spliff man,

Maybe after that then,

The future will still be bright.

underneath the shade of the sungod

Mad skies threw bags and tithes

Tantrums and dice

Somebody shouts, Doctor! Doctor!

I am sick of capitalism!

The skies replied, suck it up son

The sun shied away,

Stuck up, shunned and shooed away

The ground bowed and said to someone

You are a child of Azania, just fart lies!

This is your world son

The truth flies, on express politics sticks

But here lies, our beloved

Son of the soil

Shutted up, Shot up, and Gutted up; the upshot?

We get it!

my heads and tails are black, i am black on all sides,

     the A and the B side,

             the be all and the end all,

                 ninety and sixty,

             i end mathematically parrallel to spiritually conscious blackness, 

     buffallo Biko soldier dread like Omphemetse perm like Solomon,

chiskop like Butternut :-) and poet like Thabo hehehehe

     I am African, from the rivers to the tavern back to prison, Amen.

The Ring

The rings ring dark but equal

Sing sign posts yawning fore warning

Righteous dawn signatures

Loud pings bright thongs soft bongs

The bongo pounds many rounds

Drum tweets whispering beats

The ring rings equal but dark

Sign posts yawning warning the four sign

Signatures righteous with dawn

Bongos soft loud bright thongs

Rounds pound and

Beats whisper drum tweets

The equal ring rings dark whispering signatures!!!

your syllables

hmm

chocolate streams,

smooth dreams,

your words

weave worlds

its kinda like

the nile knows

how to flow

mysteriously

it hears your smile

while, with your verbs

you tantalize

and hyptonize

mesmerize

Chieftess,

you speak

-sound you purify

for your sorrow tomorrow

when leaves fall in the water

a poet said she noticed

when we feel a rush of bitter cold

well, we shiver

when You get to feel that

i am there wrapping my arms around you

on telepaths of warmth

on warpaths with tears and memories

when waterfalls or little rivulets

start drawing lines

on your delicately crafted face

i'll be next to you, joining you

holding your hand

and when your heart sobs

my spirit hands will be

holding it gently

rocking it

to a tranquil

distilled peace

and when you close your eyes

in silence

remember

I am with you in your sorrow

I will smile when you smile with me

Dance when you tap your feet

Laugh when you fall

Clap when you crawl

Clean your crap

And strap you in on road trips

Give you tips

When your heart needs mending

And remind you

That I will always



Be your father or brother in spirit

If you want me to be

The spirit that flows in I have a dream

And the hope in I am an African

Bans depleted African beats in my footsteps

So that when the tribal drum sounds the death knell

The end kneels keeling in shackles of my brothers blood

Still I am irie J

Singing, stomping and clapping cause Azania is my hood.

Sneaky, I stole some poems for your facebook page

Could not face the age when discovery would be your sage

A fake rhyme with fake words made worse but my excuse…

 I did, for you and for you only

Held them at gunpoint took them for a metaphor hostage tourney

Streaky, cause I forgot to tell you they were mine in the first place