To some she seems less appealing; by skins of shedding
away snakes. Liars in the world with venomous words,
But there's a city on fire,—in the burning eyes of
the bright future I see in her.

Clean streets; at least better than a capital,
chilled vibes, and no rush to the stresses we
all got to face. Faces of a bright smile; but of late
hidden under a surgical mask.

Sky's the limit in skies, but we're limited
by the resources we once had. "Salibonani mama/baba,"
greeting my elders out of respect.
A mix of black, white coloured, indian, and many more;
the dish of flavours going well with good fellowship at church.

Race barriers still exist; but maybe we ignore it
enough that it seems little. The writing is on the wall!

Many tribes, but my tribe is of great people.
Aren't we all, despite of upbringing or class,
status, hierarchy, or density highs or low.

I have love for you all, love for my Bulawayo.

As Zim life-
forces you to survive;

Swallow some pride
close your eyes;

Be close to alright
with a bright African smile;

And never forget;


                   The Lord does provide.

Z
Dreams won't fade while we're alive,
but in this nation of mine
All our dreams have come to die.

Why?

So much potential not just in lands,
but the lands of people's talents.
Idealists whose ideas seem stuck at mind,
the potential we lose every year.
All the children looking for greener pastures on the other side.

But why?

Our lands of beauty, lost it's worth,
we couldn't take care of them.
Our treasures of wealth,
we foolishly lost all of them
I live in the city named to be like the sky,
but my skies are empty. No stars left to signify.

Tell me why?

There's potential for all to be great,
how so, when poverty is your only weight.
How so, when you feel there's no escape
How so, when the love for your land quickly turns to hate
How so, when it feels like there's no any other way,
How so, when every early success feels like it's going to be late.
And how so, when your struggles are so common, all have a similar reason to frustrate.

Is there even a reason why,

We seem to be living backwards,
with every step we take forward
Why the scent of hope stinks of
too many dead roses
Why everything seems either empty or broken,
Why we live a defeated lifestyle,
yet we're all the chosen?

It's enough to drive anyone crazy,
a lasting impression scarred into our hearts
Enough to drive anyone crazy,
The land of Z.

Inquiring sons of daughters,
Equipt
Of a day, one day,
The unmalleable grounds
Of Untanga gardens
Will beget,
By far Richer.
Than today


Down to their own sons
Of a day, one day
Our land,
Agleam in lights of progress.
Surging nights
Bedeviled by the buzz of utopian youth

They, then also
Down to their sons
Of a day, one day
So on
And on...

Follow the sun as it rises up to the night as the stars shine,
Use that route everyday and never abandon that trail or path.
It's a long journey ahead so one step at a time is recommended,
Stay in your lane, making sure you don't get distracted.
If you follow that route, it will lead you to tomorrow,
Provides you a fresh start, an opportunity to wipe away your old sorrow.

When there is a new day, it means you have arrived at today.
No matter how much you love today, you still have to copy with its flows and vice,
But never make a mistake to remain stuck at today twice.
Cause with this journey, there is always more that await you,
The more you delay, the more opportunities you lose.

If today is bold enough to **** you off or makes you feel good,
It only takes a genuine smile to maintain the positive mood.
At this point, there is no room for crying foul or blaming anyone,
Even yourself because tomorrow is always better than the previous day,
To those whom are willing to deploy a fighting spirit everyday.
The clock is ticking and so time is moving,
We are waiting for you so keep winning.

So take charge,
For tomorrow is not just a place but its the hope that keeps us moving forward,
The faith that lead and guide us to a new start,
And the reason why you should endeavour to better your life.

“Walk right up to you,
To the root of your throne
And stare, expectant

Cup in hand, thirst in soul
Ready to drink, and just demand:
I yell and raise the cup to you –

‘Forgive me!’

I am a hypocrite child, a mockery to your blamelessness
Please grant me eyes true,
And a tongue that knows honesty unimpaired -

‘I’m Sorry, My God.’

You can't survive through music only
Here I was thinking that is what I'm trying to do
And I'm not even half as good as my little sister Jayne
Her voice is flawless, when she sings the world stops
Her chords reach to the hands of time
I am sure they refered to this peculiar being
When they said "I heard angels sing"
The neighborhood stops
And elokshin it barely does
It's as if her voice clears clean the environment of clumsy noises
Only hers reigns
But here I am a struggling poet
Barely making anything of my life
Watching my dream outgrow me like an unwanted hedge
Yet still I believe in these words
As clumsy as they are
They will speak for me
To my daughter Nealah
To my granddaughters
To the next generation
Of Jokonia

I had a dream