She can call herself a poet

The poet with her two pencil rhyme trance chances her life with words

Boredom is always in the throws of her mental gallows

The sound of canonical horses gallops behind her encrypted shadow

But the wind blows bellow the surface of her poems beyond her hollow shallows

Yet she knows when her pentameter pants and pierces her page with lethal pen-anesthetics

She has arrived…

Poet,

She can call herself.

She looks lovely in her dress, looking down at the mic

The piano taps the strings that hold men’s poses together rattling their tears

Her voice raptures with soft breezes floating to fill the hall

Bodies move with her breeze

She has arrived…

Poet,

She can call herself.

musik flowin in me stream of blood

The beats, beating thumping stomping rhythm into pieces

Trumpets, bellowing throwing pungent notes bloating

Drum kits, belching pulses pulsating hope

Bodies, moving tortured tormentors mentors bending fendors

Cutting melody highs, laser knives, through eardrums wet with pleasure

Shrill fingers trill valves in halves cuffed

Feet tap-tap, like a boxer winding his left-left, no right hook

Pop-pop-pop, it goes musical popcorn adorning adoration

Feeling from left to right, right to left in clefting flights in sects

Stylish mid tempo suits, ties swigging swinging swagging and,

Waving madams away this way to oblivious frivolous royalties

back to ties lies, here lies church hymns joy with celebration

Rhyming in incantations coronated like a peacocked dictator

Sit back, rock your mind and listen.

note to the i's bride
where ever she hides
if you do not read

what the i writes
whats the point?
you will never get me.
even if
you open ya eyes wide

Da conqueror

Paint-splasher

Splash a banana, a Kubla Khan

Englishless lass

Zithulele Mann

Nineteen twenties, dreamscaper

Empress-impressor, creative decompressor

Dadarizer, chicken-lickenizer

Toyi-toyi drunkenmaster

Blue Blossom, merry berry

Multi-medium, high low, hello!

Mellow, yellow banana

Be a nana

Na a bana

Ba a nana

Plagiariser

Jah!!!

play a rising banana!

Condom leaser, intense

Bush pleaser

Hawu!

Past tense

Paint-splasher, twice

Underground Idol

Billy-the-ocean is just a doll, Mfana!

Spider-the-man

man-the-bat

Tswatswari's the conqueror!!!

I painted your heart with clouds

I painted your heart with clouds

Cloud nine you called it

Your little heaven

It was sunny, I admit

I painted them in, windows that is

You let me in,

Sand dunes were everywhere

It was truly

The Kalahari Desert

I painted non-stop

When Botswana rain came

We sang and danced

And the moon

Stole gliding glances at us

Through the clouds

I painted the clouds, I add

with Droplets in free fall

To water your heart’s oasis

And found myself

Inextricably strapped

To your bosom

I looked up; while I was painting

And saw your eyes

And

Sparkled shattered shards

Made their way, conspicuously

Into my heart

Either way

I smiled

You smiled

I forgot

And

You reminded me

stan-stil and listen

The rivers i cross are full of smiles that touch fleetingly like rose petals brushing past frost filled grass when the breeze is as light, cool and fresh hitting the nose where it is.

I remember the good times like it was yesterday. I feel the pain i felt about the bad times. I sit. I wonder. I see and i move on. But i will never forget while it seems that most times i am fine but it remains a scar that from here on seems like it will never heal.

swimming in my fear

Tearing the searing joy flickering

in my hearts absence

distant and close

closed off

at the t junction

in my mindless mind

you appear

at the sun’s apex

before dawn

framed by its dim brightness

buffalo soldier

armed with smiles

that kill me joyfully

that fill the thrills

summers and springs

with bullets fired in kind

with trance dances

that penetrate and splash

that empty space in my soul

by chance i hold

the warmth in your hands

and offer mine

in the winters and autaumns

in the bliss of the hope

of that first kiss

with closed eyes

searchin deeply

inside

for that which we never lost.

there you was

You remind me of kwaito nights and reggae mornings

The last after supper

Splattered with splendour waiting for a nervous two by two

while marvin gaye sounds pound my heart gayily

ripping it into a trinity of triplets

painting me red,  my jaw dropping

because you were not my valentine

not my date, stood at the door

prentended i was your gate-opener

there you was

all i could do was…

“would you dance…

… with me?”