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  Oct 2015 Dexter Terzungwe
Y Rada
It is difficult to be a man,
For I am not a typical one.
It is hard for me to go on,
There’s a secret that pulls me.

I loathe when my memories strike,
They hit emotionally with might.
I struggle so much to survive,
In a world so deaf towards my cries.

I look at a He and my heart convulses,
For I recall a He who gave me kisses.
I was young, forced and naïve,
I fought but He was much stronger.

Society might tell that I’m gay,
For I let a man violated me in a way.
But I’m not a ***** and I’m sure,
I play a role for which others envy.

When I was a teen I met her,
I admired her even if she’s older.
I was then shy and very timid,
With mental and emotional scars.

I thought of her as a dear friend,
Then she turned to be my worst fiend.
One instance she forced herself on me,
And used things that hurt me so.

A girl’s tactics differ from the stronger ***,
Tears she used first and blackmail next.
She was cunning, sly and very clever,
She stole my pride and my dignity.

My fears now mixed with anger,
My determinations got bolder.
I still cry and sometimes get lonely,
Like any other victim I want to fight.

I can not shout to the whole nations,
For societies will scorn at my declamation.
Both sexes forgot that I have feelings too,
I am also made of flesh, bones and spirit.

I am not proud of what I become,
Within me clouding reasons try to calm.
My desire is to win this battle to the end,
I am capable of vulnerability like any human.

But where does my right begin?
This universe has compassion for women.
The likes of me are expected to be steel made,
Yet I have feelings too for I am just a man.
Dedicated to all abused males by other men and to the men abused by females. A simple shout out to the world that I care…that I have heard your cries… and that you are still loved.
Dexter Terzungwe Oct 2015
I am a man with a heart that offends
with its lowly and greedy demands.
Such a waste, your beautiful face.
How I have wasted my throes on your head!


So can we be friends or a tad bit more, sweetly,
Before this façade ends?
For I love you more than the world can contain
In its lonely and ramshackle head!


I’m holding my breath.
Nodding as my last minute counts down to one.
And when I am dead, come sit by my stonehead
My fossil shall rot happy in the sun!


What can be said of your heart?
Do my memories keep you awake?
I may be forgiven...
Dexter Terzungwe Oct 2015
Season of love, or so I was told.
Day of Saint Valentine, spurn my sorrow;
Dozens of red roses, bouquets of blood.
But you’re drunk as a horsefly.
Claim you’re an oldie, but only a kidult with an early retire.
Climb on the mattress pad, ruin the moment,
you could have easily slit my throat!


What’s left is only bittersweet;
I think only of the best that we could have had;
The borders we could have hiked;
And the babies that we should have had!
Now I’m cold and afraid, willing it all away.  
What’s the point of writing these poems
if you’ll never read them?
The disappointed live longer...
Dexter Terzungwe Oct 2015
Since I was old enough to speak,
i promised to love you till the end of time;
and now i'm praying for the end of time to come quickly,
so i can stop loving you.
Why?
because i dont break my promises.


Some part of me got lost in your apron;
Where you hid your cigarettes.
No I’ll never forget, cigarettes lit,
pots blackened by the thick smoke from the stoves.
Your majestic pose over the cans as you churned your latest recipes to life.
I just wanted to be like you.

Now you're there,
as fragile as a worm in a brine pool.
Laying in that hospital bed,
the white sheets stained by your spews of black blood.
The doctor said your lungs have given way,
I still cant believe that you're leaving me.
We forgot to live... *The nanny tales*
Dexter Terzungwe Sep 2015
Driving Ms. Daisy
Absolutely drives me crazy.
Many a driver have come and vanished by noon.
Her cruel words are nothing but her ****** armour.
People hate her,
and she appears to love it.
Petite old Ms Daisy,
seems like she’ll forever be alone.
Today she asked of me to drive faster,
“I want to feel the wind against my face.
Take it up a notch”, she said.
“12miles/per hour,” she wailed.
Snub the rooster and wax the pole,
driving Ms Daisy is slow.
Really slow.
At times I fear that the machine may fail,
That the engine may even stop from being so frail.
Taking Ms Daisy someplace is like going nowhere,
because you aren’t moving enough to arrive anywhere.
Yesterday was the worst day ever;
her constant yelling and biting remarks
that only aimed to infuriate.
But Ms Daisy is always classy.
Her proud air of 16th century British Royalty.
Even her perfumed handkerchiefs spell eloquence.
But still, one day I wish she’ll suffer a heart attack,
Or maybe a mild stroke.
But then I wonder out loud,
“Who else will hire me and pay me this load?”
I may moan and rumble
but I am forever stuck with Ms Daisy.
Stuck in an unending timeline...
  Sep 2015 Dexter Terzungwe
niamh
I have lied my way
Through life
And spilled my truth
Upon these pages.
A persona presented
Face to face
Is lost within the ink
Of the pen.
Created by insecurities,
Derived from expectations
Unjudged by blank sheets.
Only those who read me
Truly know me.
Dexter Terzungwe Sep 2015
the lanky mortician with wryly looking fingers, oh the poor boy.
The hospital asked me how the body should be cast.
Such a funny thought to wrap you up in white linens,
your favorite colour.
Before I say goodbye my dear Eugene,
"Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?"

I can hear you asking, "James why do you cry?,
Make the most of your life, while it is rife;
While it is light."
Before I watch your flesh go,
Shall we look at the moon, one last try?
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