A sunflower from me to you
It is not much, but
I am sure it will do.

This is a bit corny
And a little cliche, but
This is what I do when I express my feelings.

When a certain person feels a different way.
They get a single flower not a whole bouquet.
This is to tell the other person that:
‘To the world they may be one, but
To them they are one big world.’

Cupid is blind, yes we know.
And he surprises people when he plays around with his bow and arrow.
You may never know whom you might fall for.
All you know is that you got struck by an abstract called love.

So you get a single sunflower,
And without expecting anything at all
You say to that person…

“Anodiwa shamwari, iri ruva kubva kwandiri kwauri, nekuti ... ini ndaida kuti iwe uzive kuti ndinokuda iwe kupfuura zvaunoziva.”

So this shouldn't change anything,
Especially how you see me.
I am still the same person as I was yesterday.

I do not wish to be with you.
We are not right for each other.

I just wanted to give you what grew in my garden.
This sunflower is to not be watered, but
Left to die.
Discard it if you must.
It is just a sunflower… nothing special.

- My-Girl

Singly among the sand castles
No one noticed until he was there
Above him or in his path

We had built him like children
Build sand castles
We carved and patted him from moist earth
He was soft, yet rigid as he lay there
His gaze was skyward and uncertain..

We left him there to see what people do
And walked a distance to the dunes
We watched him among people
For he was one now.

They came. Families, elderly couples
And children too and stopped
To admire and express delight
At this sand man's sculptured form.

We felt happiness at the pleasure be brought
He made them stop a moment to feel their surroundings
And recognize his contented solitude.

Teenage boys came to jeer and leer.
One of them looked around as if in secrecy
And plunged a driftwood stick at the sandman's groin
Then quickly ran away laughing at his tale.

The stick protruded  boldly
Our sand man's hands were at his sides
He felt no ruler of the sands
Only a gentle soul made of mockery.

A girl and her brother approached
After we had removed the offence.
The young boy was waving his 'mighty sword'
(Some stick which had washed ashore)

At first, with his sister in charge
They stopped to admire
But then she walked away,
Turned her back to venture on.

"Hello", he said to the sandman
As if to acknowledge someone there.
Then with his 'mighty sword' he pierced
Into the sandman's groin and
Ripped up to his chest
Then swung his 'sword' and
Cut the sand man's throat...

Why? Why! we cried in mind
As the young boy ran away
Murderer! we yelled in our hearts

IWe hurt for man
We sat stunned at this violence
This desecration of a soul.

We couldn't just leave him there
Blameless, yet aware
So we buried the sand man and prayed
Dust to dust, sand to sand

Sand he may have been
But soul he was for us.

Certainty and Uncertainty.  How can I be so sure of myself even sure that I am unsure.  Is there not somewhere in me my certainty and that in contention with my uncertainty and why should one prevail over the other?  Yet to say both maybe true ; and so co mingle them seems a muddy solution that may not be so easily  clarified.  Let us say that Iwe separate them in a still and then condense the purer vapor from the residue what then do we have not one but two  back where we started from.  Yet from this perplexity in time may not a pearl of great price grow; and in the constancy of the conundrum may not an enduring peace ensue-In the night a starry beacon winking seems to fall into the summer darkness  declaring heaven near and it is so.  So so beautiful being here with you

My Africa

In Africa the only recognisable diseases are ***/AIDS, BP, cancer, cholera and flue, but no one recognises a disease like depression. Its like your mind haunts you, as much as you try to run in those bushes looking for the nearest light it stalks your footsteps like a hyena following the trail of blood. Its like a huge web that can not be untangled, you feel like your mind is drowning you and the only thing you can see is it smiling and hear it laugh, as you try to gasp for air.

In Africa no one recognises this mental illness but it has let our brothers and sisters hang from a tree, lie lifeless in a pool of blood streaming from their wrists, it has let them choke on pills 1,2,3,4, they lost count now the bottle lies empty and the soul staring at an empty body. Who knew depression could be a serial killer and even justice has failed to adhere to its oath to safeguard and protect its people. In our african culture we laugh and say drink a lot of water it will cure that head. Growing up bringing more and more burdens to the poor soul. I also once thought it was a joke until the pharmacists told me “that would be 16 dollars sir”.

Until you are a victim you will never appreciate how dangerous this creature is and we let it roam freely, feed it, drink with it, party with it and dine with it only to tuck it in at night. Its time my Africa recognises this creature. It haunts not by age, not by intelligence, not by body size and not by wealth. It feeds on the weak mind. “Im on anti depressants” i said, “ha ha ha at such a young age kuzviitisa unenhamo dzipi iwe usina mhuri (in english what problem do you have when you don’t have a family)” they said.

Continue to laugh my Africa, who will be left to bury you. Despite the size a problem is a problem my Africa; until you understand that depression will soon be the number one killer, but it would be too late, when they release the statistics we will be already carrying flowers to our brothers and sisters graves reminiscing “he/she would be turning 25 today”.

Wake up my Africa there’s a killer on the loose.

Yours The Beard King.

iwe never decieve___simpleas thatt