Tuesday, 24 April 2012

Not Everyone........

Not everyone,is as fortunate as yourself,

graced the power of opportunity to skim through this,

blesses thus this chance not miss.

Tell me that old tiny tale,

throw caution to the wind,

for all our capacities of comprehension can fathom,

they could be a feast for the termites below,

or seeking the light at the end of an unknown tunnel in the next world,

for all we know,

this,is the seed for ages in our mind we sow...

Not everyone,is like you,

comfortable in the softness of your comfort,

secure in the walls that secure your safety,

for all we can attempt to contemplate,

they could be subjects to the sinister volatile world,

vulnerable to nights' evil therapy,

while the wind that so loudly howls,

  • their body heat prowls,

    bites their toes,hinders the delight of evening's rest,

    that's how good it gets at its' best...

    mbare musika by Lovemore Kambudzi

    Not everyone,is able to be in your kitchen,

    aromatic,savoury here,

    succulent,delectable,sweet there.

    Your reserves brimming to the rim,

    cappucino filled with whipped cream,

    a joy for your digestive system.

    For all we care,

    they could be devouring the menial remnants of your burnt pasta,

    or fighting over what remains off a stew gone wrong,

    when,why,for how long?

    Not everyone,can wear the clothes you parade.

    Cheap like salt or expensive like a weave that looks real,

    who cares,what matters is,you have them,can't you feel.

    For all we take no time to notice,

    they could be wearing the rag on Christmas from your mum your aunt refused,

    or joined ancient parchments,the church mice are bemused.

    Clothing filled with spots and gaps,almost if not camouflage,

    hiding away the flesh from perverts and paedophiles...

    Not everyone,has a smile on their face like you,

    or love abundant as the air we inhale,well within their reach,

    for all we ignore and live on,

    they could be delving in the playground of death,

    somewhere in the Middle East,

    where whose woes nobody could care the least.

    Or succumbing to calamity inflicted by nature's anger,

    or grieving a loved one long lost,

    or enduring an ordeal too unbearable,

    a pain whose extremes are incredible...

    For all we even dare to care,

    we are statues,we glare and stand to stare...

    By Alex Nyasha Dube ( Zimbabwe )


    1. moving piece that explores the issue of gratitude,whilst u rae busy mourning about who yo are and what u have some ppl are in situations worse of than yours.sad piece am touched alex.