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Just the other day,
someone asked me,
which day is
the other day.
One day of the other days
of the week,
I said.
Monday to Friday is
five days away,
while Friday to Monday
is just three days.
Really funny, isn't it.
Is this a mathematical error
and miscalculation or
just another maths equation.
Why is this so.
Is the algebraic algorithms wrong
or it is just configured to just fix
a mathematical problem.
Xy plus Y and you subtract
the y in Xy then multiply it by 10,
your head spined
and finally they asked you
to solve the problem.
They didn't know that
the problem of the problem
is the problem.
And they wish you a
very merry Xmas
but completely forgot that,
there's absolutely no
X in Christmas.
And someone the other day was,
trying so hard to convince me
that the symbol sign of fish inside
the book I'm reading means
Jesus and a symbol of
a dove especially the white one
represent the Holy Spirit.
Confusion within confusion
is very confusing.
What can we say.
What can we speak.
How can we justify ourselves.
If you ask me,
who will I ask.
So don't ask me because,
I really don't know the answer.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
 Sep 2018 Dawn Bunker
Sherri
A grave is raised before its time
To testify a cold farewell

Who saw her last teardrop fall
Its slow decent
To the desert sand
As the final nail is set

Who knew of her minds defeat
The battle lost
Her last hope shattered
By the hammer's final fall

Who heard her voice fade
On a silent scream
The endless empty sigh
Of her last and final breath

Who felt her heartbeat stop
Like a drowning drum
The slow pitter-patter
A final two-step march

Who stood witness that last long night?
Who stood by and watched her die?
 Sep 2018 Dawn Bunker
Khoisan
The bonfire was loaded
With exiting tales
Our forerunners legendary
Exploit's these daggers
Cut deep trenches in
Our mindseye we felt
Like the next generation
Of wrath true tales from
A culture of devil worshippers
Yet the tongue's wielding
The blade was non the wiser
Our innate minds chewd
Every word our lives Satan's
Recycling bin two five ten
Deaths and many generations
After we now realised that
We have to cut out the blade
From these forked tongued
Folk tales that whispers filth
Unto the unsuspecting ears
Of our beautiful children
Heroism emenating from
The subculture of criminality
And gangsterism must no
Longer be tolerated it have savaged
The Innocence of young lives
For far too long
I grew up in this filth God forbid I should have been a corpse myself
I have lost many friends because of
This generational sub cultural problems
Progress are slowly being made
Through various educational programmes
And community interventions
 Sep 2018 Dawn Bunker
Khoisan
The first cut was the deepest
The second just opened
Up the awareness of cobwebs
Dangling in the mist
Waiting for the afterlife
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