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 | Truth is all around us In the early yawning dawn that fathered the multitudes In the buzzing bee and the fly that fed each other in humility In the shadowless arms in the dark that strangle the poet at midnight In the pocket of t (More) |
| Mwana King I sit my drying napkinned arse on this floor Drooling in stupefaction at bliss around me My tiny toothless voice amazes my ears I clasp my dexterous fingers and fart Like a drunkard throwing out I crawl towards her lap (More) |
| I want to laugh with you God! I want to laugh with you God I know you God laugh at me When I sneeze my farts And pretend nobody heard I know you laugh at me God When I stretch my neck To marvel at daughters of Eve But now I want to laugh w (More) |
| Dust and sweat! Moulded from this rocky dust Enwombed in the dark chamber of life After some dark and sweaty yearning I peeped blindly into this noisy world Smudged with streaks of blood and mucus After her sweaty groaning (More) |
| Nothing! In this tiny room I sit Grimacing and sweating Clinging this seat with mounting despair I frown and grunt Feel the trembling veins on my neck and down I curse and shake my head S (More) |
| Kick some gods! When they tell and retell it That God is a huge bearded giant Floating and chilling on the clouds With eyes huge and fiery like the sun Watching at dusk as at midnight (More) |
| The drum We just heard the drum again Echoing and beckoning Through that humid evening When the crows had started to yowl And the reticent sun hid behind the mountains We heard the soft palms of a novice And we knew it was that (More) |
| Let the people speak! This is to all of you Who whacked us and all For blazing seeds and their weeds When you clouted our sisters’ bottoms Winked at each other in staff rooms We saw you! Let the people speak! (More) |
| The Blind man He staggers into the carriage Tugged by the little sweaty palm Smeared by the many weary eyes Leans against a rail like a weary man Swings his keyboard from his b (More) |
| I am going! Mother and father Weep not for me When I am dead Dead from this battle A battle not of guns and napalm bombs Though bullets shall glide round my head And switchblades await me in the alleys I am going ther (More) |
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