Desire
Balanced
On the edge
Of a blade

A well dressed man
*******
An untethered label

A bottle for two
At an uncleared table.

A twist
Of the wrist
To the pouring
Of wine

To dripping lips,
and kissing
between sips.

His hands
to my hips

His tie
To my wrists.

His kiss.

Her body is a plantation
I worked on for twelve years,
all of them solid, deep
summer, uncleared timber,
backwater, ditch and slough,
times of bad cotton, dark
nights and no crops, hard rain,
riding shotgun over my love.

When long commutes and monotonous drives
Define the journeys in our lives,

And being boxed into office hives
Has long since left our souls deprived.

Ask yourself.
Is this living?

When years sat down, in terse duress
Form on our heads deep valleys and crests,

And weekends are for the unfinished mess
Of work still piled high on uncleared desk.

Ask yourself.
Am I alive?

Laying here thinking. It's time to get stitching. Too many holes in my soul to be keeping. No way to reduce the abuse of this world. Oh my god. What's gone wrong? this can't be the fate of our lives. Written on the whispers of all of our hate. Together in spirit but too far away. [this can't be pretend] When days come together and nights come to an end. We'll stare at the stars and dance with the sun. Hoping to never lose what we once saw. Hope of the ages. Hope from the wages. Getting to the top is never a simple hop. Too much of that **** and you'll end up unhitched. Dead in a coffin. Don't worry they're just coughing. too many tears and uncleared checks to put you out on top deck. Born in the butter. Gone with the gutter. Humble the hearts of the people who stumble. Struggle here now. Strengthen here now. Each stone getting lighter than the previous one now. Look down the cliff and notice who you forgot. Pull their cables up and never let 'em drop.

Clouded, shrouded, blocked
was my mind by your thoughts
for years remained uncleared
despite all my frantic struggles.

The mist has been growing thin
Now, it isn't even faintly visible
What was a thought is a memory
However strongly I try to hold it,
to a more distant place it drifts off.

Alas,
Your thoughts have faded into a memory
And I ain't no magician to restore them.

the sacred truly weird
   all we’ve hoped and feared
                  ambiguous uncleared
                           frightening when neared


What does it now hold dear?

Two small boys played on the waste ground
It was midsummer and the grass was in its golden glory
Dry and straw like they werd
Catching grasshoppers in the long grass
The older boy, a confident red hairded bespectacled lad
Gave advice to the younger one, 'keep your hands cupped, you'll catch one then'
The hot  the underlying concrete
The Bombies was a a patch of grass and the remains of buildings still uncleared after the second world war.
'Lets get home now' the red head suggested as they wandered still laughing back to his house not 50 metres away  down the hill.
Summer holidays spent together on the Bombies or playing cricket

If natural disaster was to call.
And we were all to fall.
Will there be anyone left?
To log into our phones,
And read our unposted;
Thoughts.
Poems.
Playlist songs.
Prayers.
Notes.
To do lists.
Bucket lists.
Wishlists.
Uncleared shopping carts.
Liked videos.
Saved videos.
Favorite videos.
Watch later.
Retweeted.
Loved.
Reposted.
Unfiltered pictures.
DIY projects.
Ten minute crafts.
Absolute must haves.
Spend the day with mes.
Get ready with mes.
Food orders.
Takealot orders.
Amazon orders.
Day in the life.
What I feed my dog in a day.
What I eat in a day.
Daily vlogs.
Daily blogs.
Unread texts.
Check ins.
Drafts.
Downloads.
Watch lists.
Google history.
Unread emails.
Tinder matches.
Netflix must watch.
Gen Z versus millenials.
Private subscriptions.
And think to themselves,
What the actual f**k?
What happened to us?
What has the world become?
Personally,
I hope he writes the new Bible.
What would God think?

I still search  
     for you in the crinkled sheets
     in the empty fields
     searching for those harm hugs
     and forehead kisses.
In city lights
     and passing cars,
     in wishing stars
     thinking about the nights spent together
     long drives with no destination.
I wonder where
    you went with all the uncleared questions in mind.
And longer since
    I still call you mine
    the traces you left are with me.
   Still, I try to find someone to put my head on
   someone who never let me cry
But I am leaning
      to live without,
      I do not mind-
     I still love you anyhow.

How am i gonna stay the same?
The circumstances have changed
I just self pity on my only mistake
I need an eternal break from the
Mayhem i create
In the bright sunny days i try hard to escape from my ugly, dark phase,
And this struggle inflict an endless ache,
How am i gonna stay the same?
My perception of myself has changed,
I reside and get lost in the wrinkle of pain,
And sometimes get zoned out in the crowd full of menace,
In my vengeful eyes the uncleared sight  
Of my dusty- rusty life,
My intention changed and my brain is drained
Of the good old thoughts,
How am i gonna stay the same?
Everyday i try not to live a sinful life
full of  skirmish, carnage and havoc,
People try to boast and swank of their
dirt and land,
And i give a smile and look at my red right hand.

Poet : Praise Ncube

Poem : Death of democracy in Zimbabwe.

Date : 19/01/22

They fought the oppressors,
For them to be oppressors.
The blood
The sweat
And that unity , was all meant to
slaughter and cremate democracy,
FOREVER !!!

Look , she's crying.
Democracy is crying
They have given her capital punishment.
She's facing the guillotine
Surrounded by soldiers with guns
and so ready to ****
Brutal policemen , equipped with button sticks and handcuffs.

Look at the soldiers and the police
,they are hungry
Their kids are being chased out of  classes ,
They have uncleared fees
One of the soldiers lost his mother
yesterday.
How ?
Hospitals are now pigsties
Good doctors and nurses are in the Diaspora.
But they still have courage **** DEMOCRACY.


Let the citizens speak
Refuse to be a state apparatus
African politicians are liars !
Killers !
Corrupt idiots !
They assassinate and eradicate,
prominent speakers.
Prosecution and persecution won't link
But African rulers intertwine them
And that's too harsh for democracy.

And you citizens ,
Don't be too proud to say , I don't do politics
Interested or not
Politics will do you !

Printed in the constitution is ,
FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND EXPRESSION
Translation :
YOU SPEAK , YOU FACE OPPRESSION.

With nothing resolved ,
We still face the polling station : that ballot
We queue ,
and they teach us to draw that X,
By that we suffocate democracy

We think we decide whom we want ,
No , they decide.
We elect , they select.
Voting is not part of democracy,
That's a cancer to it .

She looks helpless
It's sad and weary
But we shall be happy again.
Aluta continua.