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Dumisani Ndlovu Apr 2019
Darker than six combined winter mid nights
The uneducated minds
For they know not when and how to use  their knowledge
Knowledge without character
Is tea without sugar

The superior complex do
As the inferior complex do other wise
Life has the wise and the other wise
Those that stand things before understanding

Undemocratic knowledge
Retaliate democratic knowledge
Global democrats
Are likened to a boxing ring
‘Jab, hook and uppercut!’
Opponents hit each other hard
And destroy not each other.


Gracious, after a tough contestant
Embrace each other with unity of purpose
It’s indeed a game and gambling of knowledge
Confidence building knowledge
Vision-less vision knowledge  
Knowledge  engulfed by the hocus-pocus
Vampire of' ‘Anointed' knowledge
Illogical malicious transmitters of words
Utter knowledge with utter amazement

Indeed,
Knowledge is power
Power to do evil...or power to do good.
No thief, however skilful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire
L. Frank Baum accurately observed
“The greatest enemy of knowledge is not illiteracy ,
It's how we illusion  knowledge
Dreams of Sepia Jul 2015
It is Summertime
like in the George Gershwin song
the grass is waving, tall
& my step -father's rich
& my mom's not bad looking
(still despite being in her late years)

In a mansion house
that is a museum
someone is polishing
a large copper ***
& dusting the books
in the old library

A vagrant locked out
of childhood haunts
in my dreams I walk
along a country road
The grass is waving, tall
it’s summertime
like in the George Gershwin song
The Song : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XivELBdxVRM
Dreams of Sepia Jun 2015
She readies the tomatoes & radishes
fresh lettuce leaves & green onion
then finishes with salad cream as a garnish
& puts the evening’s fish pie in the oven

The salad sings sweetly to her
of the bygone days of childhood summers
fast cars on winding country lanes,
the way her grandfather would say

something to his sheepdog
& watch it rush away again
in the sunlight’s  warm
grasp,  before the rain

wandering fields & farms
or out by Thor’s cave
always with a pair of binoculars
for counting birds & bats

& how he’d sleep in his armchair
in a red brick stack of a house
& how the dazed garden air
always smelt of tea roses

many years have gone past
& she keeps all the old photographs
under lock & key in Europe
& old birthday cards in their envelopes

Every Christmas the phone rings
out above a coal-filled fireplace
& the call goes to the answer machine
all that love gone to waste

* Thor's Cave is a cave in Manifold Valley in the county of Staffordshire in the UK

— The End —