TELL ME THE TRUTH

Tell me the truth,

Where is my success?

You said, education was my success

But the educated are still unsuccessful .

They said, hard working was a way to my success…

My village men and women toil like sex hormones

Until the sunshine gives up on them,

Even in their sleep, they toil with their minds

Yet they are so unsuccessful like a search for my own tail.

Tell me the truth,

Let it run and wash away the lies.

Where is my success?

Is it in the belly of corruption?

Say yes and watch me rip it apart

Like a woman in her labor…..

Say yes and I will exorcise it like demons

In prophet’s only son.

Where is my success?

Is it in the hands of a god?

Say yes and I will pray with every breath

Just say yes it is, and I will jump so high to snatch it with my hands

Just nod and my knees will fall like rain……..

Where is my success?

Is it in the hands of a politician?

Blink and I will kill that idiot,

Just a hint and I will burn his shadows with his selfish spirit.

Where is my success?

Just tell me the truth.

LOST GARMENT

I am a black piece of cloth

Black, a piece, am both.

I fly in search of light like a moth

I will question my birth

Even in my own death.

Take away religion,

The Middle East and the west is one region.

Give me not a chance but a reason,

Give me freedom outside its season.

Can I ask GOD his real names?

Can I use GOD’S name as my surname?

Can I ask him why he threw the devil in our room?

I am a piece cut off from a lost garment,

Here in the dark I sit to lament.

The garment is lost, but where?

Is it the one on the shoulders of the rich?

Is it the one at the pastor’s pulpit?

Is it the one hanging at state house?

Lost garment, open your eyes

Until then shall you rise.

Claim your place in this vast earth,

Light up your past; let it shine into your future.

Find your creator in your own language and fashion…

Lost garment,  get back home.

Have you forgotten what you lost?

Or you are scared to be free…..

THE PANGA FAMILY

THE PANGA FAMILY

As i looked straight in the eyes of my shadow,

my kidneys quivered with fear, i lost the door.

heard tales from mouths and butts

about how the worms chased the bats.

Tales of how the schooled were fooled,

how they were locked up in fear and ruled.

The land they trudged on like queens and kings

today boils their feet, their blood and things. 

mothers and kids, panties and buttocks

shrink like they just had an ejaculation.

prayers and insults pulled down the walls of Babylon,

screams and whispers separated the red and green seas

but the fight was gay, it was green on green 

and the only winner was the loser.

Like they squatted in the same balls with the Mailoni Brothers 

They dawned armed with Pangas and naked spirits,

they sang, they ran, they killed and had no limits.

they were the PANGA FAMILY

EVERYONE HAS AIDS

EVERYONE HAS AIDS

Tested or untested,

Interested or just simply uninterested?

From the infected we copy and to the uninfected we paste,

We squeeze our lives like toothpaste

But we get brushed to waste.

Our tears have become our sacred mirrors

With our broken knees we pray to our healers.

We walk to our graves dressed in our fears

We push the soil on ourselves like gears

And wash our shy faces with our tears.

EVERYONE HAS AIDS

Trapped in DAPP we are

Yes in Distributing AIDS from People to People..

From afar this is silly and simple

Yet when death dives in like a dimple

Blood calls on its master brewer,

Like Abel, no blood is poor.

EVERYONE HAS AIDS

The men, the women, the girls

The boys, the saints and the infidels.

UNTITLED

UNTITLED

Before existence existed

Before love loved

Before feeling felt

Before darkness darkened

Before prayer prayed

Before life lived

Before death died

Before thinking thought

Before eyes eyed

Before sin sinned

Everything was perfectly nothing.

When fights fight

When minds mind

When thoughts think

When sounds sound

When moves move

Then nothing becomes everything.

When there’s no time, what’s there?

KILLED ALIVE

KILLED ALIVE

Religion breastfeeds us with fear

Stopping us to see clear.

It’s true the gods know why suffer

I guess they too scream kaffir,

Our deaths give birth to our graves

 From birth to the tombs as slaves.

We are kids from broken homes,

Fruits of our mothers’ barren wombs

Our tears stand still on our swollen faces

While our history rings with a distressed echo

We pace back and forth in the forsaken circle

Preachers manipulate our imaginations with chapters and verses

Blinding us with promises of riches and places.

They say Noah the drunkard cursed our semen,

 So only have we a right to say amen.

Dead we are,

THE DARK SIDE OF THE NIGHT

THE DARK SIDE OF THE NIGHT 

We keep searching and looking

International flights we keep booking,

The highs and the lows

Still frozen in our colonial laws.

our abandoned tribes scream our names

but we are too shy to look back there.

Birthed from a dark past we are

History, our mother is her.

We vomit on the graves of our ancestors

to crawl under the wallet of our investors.

Our prophets trade prophecies with suits and ties

And our saints are lost in the tastes of wines and pies.

Here the night has fallen,

The frogs are calling

The stars keep falling.

Burning candles freeze and darkness burn so bright.

Dressed in darkness, our culture gasps

Like a dying dream.

Our prayers fly with arrogant ambitions,

Overshadowing our own identity…

We fail to tell our shadows from ourselves

Because much of us is in our shelves.