A heart,
A soul,
A troubled heart,
A wounded soul,
A bleeding heart,
A wandering soul,
My heart,
My soul,
My hardened heart,
My battered soul,
The heart of a lion,
The soul of a bull-dozer,
The heart of a survivor,
The soul of a fighter
The heart of a guerrilla,
The soul of a gorilla,
I have seen it all,
I am a freedom fighter,
I am a Zimbabwean,
At heart and soul.

When they spoke, I could not believe,
They are racists,
They hate Mugabe,
Nonsensical propaganda,
I went there and I could not believe,
They are all dark in complexion,
As if the sun only burns in their region,
They are scraggy and unhealthy,
As if they are mechanized skeletons,
They all look like they were born of the same mother,
A child cried piteously in one village,  
Like a lazy mouse,
In fact she, battled to cry,
The poor mother just looked at her with deep sadness,
Shaking her tiny head,
She could not help,
The child was dying of hunger,
And the mother just watched as the little girl died,
I cried,
She died,
The mother had no strength to cry,
She collapsed,
I cried another cry,
So much I saw, it is unbelievable,
Thereafter, I hated Mugabe with a passion,
And everyday I cry for all of them,
And I cry with them all.
**** Mugabe.

A walk in Africa,
Africa for Africans,
A walk down town Africa,
Meeting an African,
A troubled and unsettled African,
A troubled African in Africa,
Africa in Africa, An African Diaspora,
An African imprisoned,
At home and away,
A pure African,
From the Africa of poor Maputo,
A pure African,
From the Africa of poor Zimbabwe,
Ghana, Nigeria, Tanzania,
Somalia, Ethiopia, Congo,
A poor African,
From the pure Africa of elsewhere,
An un-free African in a free Africa,
Africa for Africans,
Africans yesterday,
Africans today,
And Africans tomorrow,
The Africa of Johannesburg.

in praying positions
I realise how looking back
at our conversations
in the same bed
that auctioned my body
to you,
even though my tears,
in the company
of my four walls
indisputably proved
to be the highest bidder...
but listen carefully
as my maleficent words,
escaping just beneath
my breath,
tap into your soul...  
until your lungs
know nothing else
than to breathe
the air of me...
until the insides
of your eyelids
morph themselves
into traces and features
of my face...
maybe then you'll really see
the blessings bestowed
upon you...  
and count them
as often as you blink....  
They say let he who has no sin cast the first stone
so here I am...  
as white as the bedsheets
I've left the old sinful
pieces of my soul in
purely resurrected from
the acts of sin
we executed last night...
young lost king
embodied by nothing more
but a sense
of you needing me
I will name and shame you
within this poem
until the thought of it
hunts down your dreams
until they haunt you
and you can do
nothing more but
pray me into your dreams
just enough for you
to find your way  
back into mine
so I can dream you
into my existence
-thembekile kilay deh'poet Tsaoane

we don't know what sadness
feels like anymore
our lives are as golden as your
hair
blonde days, the summer
never ends
i feel through your locks
you lock your fingers into my
knotty head
as black as the nights when
we conversate
we know more about each other
it's only right that we remain together

for heaven's sake


- t.m

She fell in love with the man we called husband
We were all part of her love story.
As she walked towards her future and
with watery eyes turned to wave us goodbye
we sealed her fate with cries of "don't worry."

"He's a good man and he'll take care
of you and the babies you will bear.
In five years time you will get used to
The rhythm and pressures of marriage.
Be like your friend, Ta Sallah...three children and counting."

She fell in love with a man she called husband.
Did she or we assumed, planned and gave our blessing
To what she considered a curse and prison.
They said they found him naked and unconscious
Hoping to consumate the union which he had bought.

The doctors wondered why his daughter was huddled in a corner
But the riddle was solved when she was named as one of the wives.
"He was biting me," she said in between sobs.
The poor thing wasn't even mature enough to understand foreplay.
She was not in love with the man we called husband.

He lies unconscious on a hospital bed while society ridicules her for her actions.
Now, he's the victim and she's the criminal.
He took her innocence yet all you see is a wicked woman.
There lies your mistake...
She is the infant bride of a bearded old man.

Messages wrapped in pink bows were never my cup of tea.
Let me have it out in the open, lay your true self out and allow yourself to have a holy dance with your monsters.

For once, crucify yourself for sins overdue and preach the fear you have been trying to escape. If you cannot save yourself, try saving someone. We must be worth something. We must.
-One

They used to ****** people that look like I do
They do ****** people that look like I do
They've taken away my freedom and put my mind in a cage
No use to fight the bloodshot eyes
Stained from the tears I cry
Our cries for justice and equality they are trying to hide behind bars
because they know that nobody dares to read between the lines of white lies
They are trying to silence us
Keeping an entire race from the ability to arise

When blackbirds die, why can't we ever hear their screams?
Maybe that's why they never hear our screams,
For black lives to actually matter

Injustice has grabbed us by the hand with a grip that we can barely withstand
We cannot break free from what our skin defines us as
They say be afraid,
I'm just another face in the crowd of a picture of silenced serenity
Because dark skin is really just a picture of crowded statistics and percentages
We stay in the shade because that's the only place we seem to fit in
Maybe that's why we seem to be walking in the dark like zombies
Killed by the sweetness of black suicide , genocide
I'm tired of trying to put my sorrows aside

Our children love to play in the rain
Dark hearts
Dark souls
Dark minds
Seem to come along with having dark skin
The rain finally gives it a companion
Our little boys can finally find a release
Cry the tears they always held back
Because they were taught that real men don’t cry
But the rain
Protects him from criticism
He asks
“If I cry alone,
Will heaven still accept me?”

Let us pray
‘Our father who hide in shadows
Humble be thy name
Thy love will never come
Thy affection is solely done

oh how the flowers planted
within her heart
will be transformed into
gardens
and gardens
of beauty
to be
embedded
in her
soul
forever

human beings are
fragile creatures
with needy desires
and foolish emotions
like love