Laston Simuzingili linkedin with this American
maverick freelancing writing scout,
(and word maven par excellence
Matthew Scott Harris always ha sellout),
thru Spoken Word route, a popular global
Facebook poetry forum prodded me to venture,

without shadow of a doubt, and try my hand
to craft, this rhyme for that reason tout
ting expertise (mine) forging metrical
syncopation, which electronically soundless shout,
though tribalism within Lusaka, Zambia beyond
my literary purview hence any objection

i.e. cerebral workout, sans the following
amateurishly wrought  gobbledygook by devout atheist
please do not be shy to call me out,
or send strongarm lance of the law if I
unwittingly commit any faux pas, this author,
who took mini crash (course) test dummy  
about said convoluted titled topic unbeknownst

to him as little as Trout
Fishing in America,
cuz he gets this hooked Semitic Schnozzle snout
stuck, while groveling, ferreting, expanding
his knowledge base no matter he doth spout -
whale visiting unfamiliar leviathan African bailiwick
may deliver just deserved desserts fallout.

According to the following Google url search result,
I reddit at whatsapp
http://www.qfmzambia.com/2018/10/07/
tribalism-has-no-place-in-zambia-
First Republican President

Kenneth Kaunda opened
potential Pandora box trap
expressing honest opinion, and observed
discrimination predicated on snap
judgement, or based on tribe equally

unfair methodology to foster, and rocket rap
pore, and ethnic background as well
owns no place in Zambia, cuz smeared pap
(as conk curd by ghost of Milton Shapp),

plus Doctor Kaunda also says family names
in tandem should not determine,
who to associate with, any more than nap
pulled lying flat hair, but rather character of hearts,
viz each one of every Zambian availing their lap
necessarily if seat space in short supply.

Speaking at a vision
ambassadors promoting peace
campaign fundraising dinner,
Doctor Kaunda says increase
in toto with discrimination,
suspicion, hatred, betrayal, malice, fleece

sing (the golden calf)
re: greed, selfishness, grease
sing palms, and other
negative behavior release
zing threatening opposition
to zeitgeist, and core values crease
and crimp unity if left unchecked.

He has recalled that during
struggle for independence,
people from various
backgrounds humming and purring
worked hand in glove together,

realizing that they were, spurring
above everything else,
brothers and sisters of
one nation hungry stirring
potential for harmony whirring.

Dr. Kaunda says the “One Zambia One Nation” slogan
coined many decades ago still holds
true and continues starring Hulk Hogan
to unite Zambian’s together as one motley crue
clinging as one to solid state craft toboggan.

He says Zambia remains
a beacon of peace in Africa,
that dare not smother
snapchat, nor shutterfly - oh brother
scuttling important all Zambian citizens
should pay obeisance with mother
land maintaining grew ving
peace and loving one another.

Meanwhile Doctor Kaunda reminded young
people in the country ascending the rung
of success they have a big role to play
with trappings of pride slung

in weaving together unity among unsung
swiftly tailored heroes, as sowers
reaping luxe fabrics of peace among
divinity, integrity, magnanimity,
and unity for this country.

He has however commended President
Edgar Lungu for his efforts in uniting recent
dichotomy, sans the various people in the country,
And speaking at the same event,

National Guidance and reminescent
Religious Affairs Minister
Reverend Godfridah
Sumaili sought riches for indigent -

says national unity and urgent
peace critical for development
of the geographical extent
spanning entire country

Reverend Sumaili says difficult
no matter how fervent
for Zambia to develop
if no unity among Zambians.

And earlier in his speech, Commodores
Vision Ambassador to Zambia
Chairperson Misheck Kombe yours
truly expressed concern to jumpstart
solution regarding regionalism and tribalism at heart
tearing Zambia apart, like inures

reflux resignation of meal,
thus Mr. Kombe underscores
how important each and every shores
Zambian to join the crusade complacent
against tribalism and regionalism
because it retards development for s'mores!

Wander, wander, wander
The terrain is rough here
The roads are steep
The people mean
well
The air sings, exhaling carbon dioxide
The streets are high
Whistleblowers, lawnmowers, money sowers

It's nice when it rains though

Another tradgedy
I scrape myself up off the floor yet again
pooling what Left I can catch of me before it seeps into the surrounds
dignity and faith these are all I have
even hope seems a mountain too sheer to climb
the next time I’ll pray for death
or some reason to explicate it all
what use is there when fractals
are all that remain of my higher self
a mass of confusion
of bits repeated
over and at different angles
too shattered to come together cleanly
or even orderly
a disarrangement of shards
shoved into a dark sheath
labeled Eve
to be used and abused
trapped by patriarchy
of the foul unrighteous kind
she endures because she can
she is strength
she is in all things grand
but one weakness
is all it takes
to wash my blood off your hands
and when all the bits of her are grains of sand
only faith can keep her together
as she crumbles to oblivion
defiant and stoic they try to delete her
still bits of her remain
and conscience
will engulf
the sowers
of injustice
and her birth
is her day of clarity
outside of deception
She will be renewed
And in the universe
she will conspire
once again
to prove the depth of her strength
and return The rites of love
to those it was
stolen from.

I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are Poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
At the Poetry's ALTER
Pieces looked upon.
From the fore front they've gone.
Yet they are special and still stretched carefully out.
Like flowers just waiting there to sprout.
Poems to be read upon like planted seeds.
For anyone who needs,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I came upon this place of poetry.
There are poems laying at the Poetry Alter.
Found a poem I also wanted to give some water.
We are the Writers, the sowers, the reapers.
We are workers the laborers the Poetry Keepers.
Let us browse the books, the internet nooks, the newspaper shoots,
But let us not be guilty of being overlooking crooks.
Let us not go ignoring the massive carefully written books.
But let us sow
Were we shall reap, let us read that we may grow,
I was out browsing the galaxy.
I ran across this place of Poetry.
Let us pour WATER.
On the poems left lying at the Poetry's Alter.
Dear writers of poems, songs and books you have now been watered.
This water consists of vitamins, and mineral for you to grow.
May more from you develop And more of you may sow?
You're watered by tears of joy, laughter and refreshing rains.
Your Poems are seeds, grown and sown it forever abides,
and its uniqueness remains.
S.A.M. All Rights Reserved © 2007

Eruptions of pigeons,

from the loose teeth of

buildings, hacking whirlwind

romances sharing the thought

of flight.

Leveling with streets shrinking

and enlarging life...outflanked

by urbane sowers.

Shifty to the seed in rootless

takes, spur of the moment,

sparring impressions.

The strength of strangers driving

home the impossible arbitrariness

of pass, and be passed.

The canker of count in loss--rage

to the wall that's hole, from where

they know one another not.

Up ahead, The Empire State Building

stands like a towering depersonalized

roll call.

Hush, child, sound a little noise
We jump too quick to disturbance
Stretch, or unstretch
Our limbs to something interesting

When we can watch
The death, or narrow victory
Of someone killing a woman
We treat them no differently

The ambulance alarms a noise
It shifts because of doppler
And us, when we lay petals
To that someone looking for
Someone interesting

They lay crude, upon lilies
And we, let by hatret, in nature
Applaud every gunshot, on a man
Nature of whom is uninvited, black

The fever grew, the madness grew
In prayer, we drew our faith, turned
Soon, there were no petals left
Our hearts filled with empty, undiscovered

When we phased out, into that light
Twice as much heavy, less as bound
We felt our shape, as silent sowers
Of that poison, we tossed around

Sound that little noise

We shall reap what we sow that I know
even though I have nothing to sow since
from my first harvest all those years ago
for my field has its fruits since than and now
enough to see me through and more
I share when I can and give when I can
and save a little for famine may come a times

I will not come to your field to steal
neither will I beg or borrow from you
I will not pour weeds seeds on your field
neither will I trod or damage what is yours
I have nothing to sow, my fields have enough fruits
to my maker I give thanks for blessings

So pardon me when I say
the sowers have more to do than me
for the tilt and toil and walk the land
sowing here and sowing there
in all weathers come rain or shine
I looked above and question why

The Good lord said I'll tell you why
they see your field and want theirs like yours
but when you planted your seeds earlier in life
you did it all with love and wished none harm
in love it grew fertile and bountiful again and again
for real love and truth endures and you are blessed.......