I'm buried in a duck-shaped bath tub
Filled with speech bubbles and inquiries
Like how do I exit this xanthic gulf?
And how to clean this hill of ***** laundry?



I put some shampoo on my nimbus
Rinse and pour aqua on my sonnet
I breathe in valour, duck-tape my scribbles
Break the quartz, and handle the angles



With my oars, I'm rowing toward the lotus
Not missing a chapter of this meteor shower
I pass by a big tank of sapphire hums
A Christmas-tree floating on the back



It commands me like a set of green arcs
Telling me to go straight ahead, I'm a magnet
As an eddy, I enter this turquoise zone
It smells like dead fish in this strait



Water turns into a chemical substance
I recite a poesy, so as it takes a fluffy format
My racing boat is nearing the nelumbo
I let the sink drink my grey column



I swim, and my craft lands on the H
And fall from the clepsydra, with the spill
Raise my ivories to the ceiling, wear my peignoir
By looking back, I see an aquatic bridge



Vapor, creating a foggy Londonian ambiance
On the isle, spiny trees receive you with fruits
I pick a jujube and eat it, I don't remember
A new life sprouts as an ode to my lost memoir

We are march to the blacksmiths
Blacks in thick black and deep black clothes
We come to mourn against lawless smit
For aged dark days and noisy nights.,
beneath gray sky

Their envelope in our mailbox spews blackmail
That they plan to transfer power by bed
We refuse to swallow such corruption ***
Now we will fight for generations to come

Should we say the uniform saved us
No! But yes! That blacks spoke in uniform
can’t you see the strong bass in your black
Ignite your coal that light be born.

Day and night
a monstrous stomach
wriggles in his bloated belly

******* up
the unblossomed laughter
******* up
the teardrops that moisten a mother’s heart
******* up
the meager flesh under his wrinkled skin
******* up
the indifference in his eyes
and eventually ******* up
from his open mouth a ghastly cry
which we take for soundless
but is in fact at a pitch
well beyond the limit
of our comprehension

Africa is a pile of riches
Guarded by children and cattle
Africa is an ode to rainfall
Powerful like a bolt
A shack in the wind
A diamond rough under red sand
The tender bokkie ambles in the acacia bush
The old world polite smile
The colonial angst of peril and ***
The dark maiden’s passive zest
The white man’s arid humour
The languid sangoma
Who sings through the metallic fields
The barking zebra whose stripe
Like a lollipop struts its heals
and the insects who cluster
around every square inch of earth

How dare we sit skipping on porcelain throwns
passed pics of children starving on thousand pound phones.
Remember singing "feed the world" and watching band aid?
it's no natural disaster this in balance is man made.

Life should be the most valued of things
and not only helped when the Irish man sings.
We need to take action and not let it get filed
just think how you'd feel if it was your child?

It's time for a change and the sooner the better
people are people to me they're no debtor.
We must change this world even if governments must fall
cause if any debt is owed then we owe it to all!.


© One man

Are we chicks with curves
who bounce in tight jeans,
curves cutting concrete corners,
chunky gold cracking our necks
and boiling the sun?

No. We clasp hope in our hands,
like rope
it slices our palms
we slurp the blood to redden our lips
which shimmer in the Joburg sun.

This anger -
hunger
took our fathers places
where fathers died young,
tied our mothers to places
where mothers grew old..
Copyright ©2016, Dimakatso A. Sedite, adapted in 2017