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douglas chesa Feb 2012
I have been drinking wine
To douse the burning tip of my mind
Worries chewing at my nerves
Like the filter end of a rich Havana cigar
Woes of this world turn my whiskers
Into drab willows of misery
My nights into endless nightmares
And my thoughts rattling and jarring
Like the business end of a mechanical hammer.

Dreams clad in limp loincloth
Revisit me from the dark
Urns of history
The salad days of our beings
And their neauseating euphoria
When in drunken trance we siezed
Conscience by her arms
And threw her on her back
Splayed her legs
And smacked our lips
As blood spurt out...
I wipe my mind with the back of my hand
Trying
To brush away the dregs of the sordid rituals
We once enshrined.

A plump shiny green bottle
Buzzes around my mind irritating
Reminding me of Death
Hanging mockingly
Like a pendulum over my mind seducing
''O Sweet Carrion
You are food for the elders!''
And my sins in their hordes shimmer
A deathly pale round the nooze
Suspended from blushing heaven's bottom
My mind's eyes shed crystal tears
Giving away bucketfuls of Chiyadzwa diamonds to regain
Long gone and lost innocence.

I shared a bottle of wine
With my new-found friend, Today
Clinking glasses and minds
Then a greenbottle in full flight
Was caught between the grinding bellies
Of our glasses and minds
Bloodied fleshrot bespattered our intelligence
And our minds rushed to the wash basins retching
A brush with the fetid breath of the past
Left the gums of my mind barren and obscene
And together with newfound friend, Today
We covered our private parts with our hands
Ashamed
At the ****** of our thoughts.

She knocked at the door of my mind
Eyes shadowed in wet grey paint
Lips smudged in scarlet smiled at me
A Good Morning
My palm hiding the discoloured teeth
Of my inner-self
I muffled a Good Mourning to her, but
I felt a warmth spreading
At the base of my belly
Her milky-white mouthful was inviting
A milkyway blaze trailing into deep future
''I will flirt with her'' my mind whispered
But then the rasping sandpaper touch of her lips
Bruised and bloodied my thoughts
And I saw red at the future.

I must have swooned
From the First Lady's fistkisses of philanthropy
Doling out sweet nothings and promises
At a ceremony sheathed in royal pomp and dignity
Where the guests dressed like Harlequins
Mesmerised us with the crablike dance
And flummoxed O poor we
With democratic mumbo-jumbo and lingo
And the Povo touched with feeling
Donated oceanfuls of diamond tears
And their sincere prayers a mutter flutter
Into the heavens for beloved leaders.

I broke Biltong , my past, into the ***
To give life to ailing friend, Today
With my fingernail I peeled off
The tomatoe's tough ruddy jacket
To make sauce
And I heard a rumble of objection
From the August House
And the Mujibhas and Chimbwidos' angry yawn
Gave a chilli spice to the dish
And the food touching Today 's lips
He sneezed and broke wind
Startling ghosts of old nostalgic memories
That had took seats at the kitchen table
To wing away to the scrapyard
Their home beyond the rusting horizon.

Perched on the anthill of anticipation
I roll my thoughts
Into a big joint of mbanje
I **** and grey fading puffs
Of wishes spiral into the bored sky
Each a crippled dream
That was bulldozed at Churu Farm
An ambitious dream that was displaced
By the Operation Murambatsvina
A dream that lost an eye and limb in the food riots
A dream that lost its ***** at university
A dream that fell from the 11th floor at the Towers
Into the Taxman's hat
A dream that drowned in the opaque beer tank
At the Uhuru celebrations
A dream that lost its breath
On top of another man's wife in Mbare
A dream dumped and disowned
Only to find home at the bottom of the Blair toilet...
To find home in the sympathetic clicks
Of poets who have lost their voices.

The stub is burning my fingers
Minds run out of fuel and fire
The angry verbal lash
Of the emotionally wounded
Is a stub licking back at the wielder
To be snuffed out and discarded
On the ash tray of hopelessness
The grave yard that houses all
Once active minds.

-dougwa-
Leisha Dias Jul 2020
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The clock is ticking
Time is running out.

I stand here with a black robe and a scythe
Watching her battling her own demons
Crying but not shedding a tear
As I await to feed on another soul
She awaits to seek comfort in my arms.

There she stands
With arms wide open to embrace me
With a stool underneath her feet
And a rope around her neck
Agh...the cliched way of quitting
Disappointing me as there was no surprise.

The nooze...
Not so choking as her parent's expectations
Or those comments she got for those extra pounds
Not so suffocating as his kiss had left her
Or that bottle of beer and pack of cigarettes
That felt too strangling to let go of

I stand here watching her
Covered in wounds she did to herself
Seemed like her body was her canvas
Every scar, wound, bruise and cut
Had a story of it's own to narrate.

I see her struggling against her own mind
Crumbling down with each thought
I see it all in her dark deep eyes
Deep yet everything seemed eerily hollow
Those eyes showed no sign of regret
Not a hint of reluctance.

No! she wasn't weak, just tired...

And so I ask
How far do you think she's willing to go
I had my answer

As she kicked the stool and also her life
Pushing away the last bit of hope
The rope around her neck grew tighter
Her lips curled slightly
Into a hauntingly charming smile
Life flashed in front of her eyes
As she thought she could escape it all..

Tick- tock tic-hush!!....
Gaurav May 2018
Have you felt the tug on your nerves
Felt the constant ringing in your ears
Your hands jerking like a jelly bowl
And your forehead twisted like a wet rope
The feeling is immense
Its so deep its raw and intense
Those nagging tounges and blabbering lips
Can make you proclaim the right to ****
You twitch to maim and destory
That lingering itch to crack open a skull and enjoy

The cribber party is one of a kind
They are a mouthful and one ******* mind
Cute little dolls can be pin poked
But can the trolls ever be roped?
Hung by a nooze so tight
Given a chance you might even enjoy the sight.

Your friends out of devil's pocket may ignore you
The blueticks on your messages may avoid you
The boss will pick on you like a cheese *******
And the world will conspire and deride and jack you up.

Dont lose calm
Coz sanity once gone will give you a ****..
Your tallest of the four fingers
May be your motto for forever
You might pull of a crazy mind coup
On those pestering sons of cockroach

In the end
Its your nerves of steel that soldier on
Like an overloaded bridge under strain they hold on
Like an airship in turbulence you will ride it through
Some days are gloomy, some mornings can be sweet
Dont you let go, march on...
For there's a right to obey and a right to ****
Crazy office gossips and constant nagging made write this

— The End —