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

drunk funk skunk

I am going

To be drunk

Like a skunk

Cheap chip piercing

Drum roll

Dum dum dum dum

The funk in my head

Keeps trapping trills

spinning spilling hopes

The clapping

The beating

The smiling

The tripping

The flipping

The skipping

The tin bleats

Deep dom dom dom
tin tin tin dum dum

The r’s rrrrr-ing

Gasps

Smooth ear-lining melodies

Take me back

 To the golden oldies

Ladies ting ting ting

Clap! Clap-clap-clap! Clap!

Play! Play-play! Play!
The croud shouts

We want more

We want more
Just make it five

The magic number

Kobus how many minutes?

Fifteen

The piano frills the scales

Impales the fresh breeze

Slow

eish I’m in love

Tsotsi love song reminder

go crazy

Love

Crazy

Love

Trumpet

Soul

Life

Spirit

Plump

Plump dump

rub-a-dub

Hm

Hmmmmm

I hum your sound

My heart pounds

Drum pounds

The rounds

Piano trills

Trumpet silent still

Bass cares less

Sound tantrum

Clapping

Claps clapping

Dum

Trrr tipppp trap

Trap trap trap

Tap tap

Dum dumdedum dum dum

Pappapaprarp prprprpaaa drtim

One more

One more

But alas

They leave

Eish!

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.