Poor banished child of Eve...

Listen to me,listen to my heart,as it bleeds of unheard emotions

bleeds it does,bleeds so profusely,bleeds intensely...

These are my cogitations,the ones my soul drowns in so inevitably...

I am the poor banished child of Eve,

banished from this wretched world for being unique,

yes,these people governing my life are undoubtedly bleak.

Banished I am,for speaking my thoughts aloud,

these thoughts in this world that are not allowed...

Let me breathe,let me live,don't force me to grieve

but let me live,yes,live...





I am the poor banished child of Eve...

Willing to give so much,willing to go all the way.

But they push me away,yes,these imbeciles think I'm a dog astray...

Listen to my heart,

Listen to me speak,listen to that which is coming deep from the gut.

Yes,the gut.

The gut of resilience,the gut of endurance,

Yes,endurance to bear the pain you have put me through,

Yes,the rough patch i hit because of you,and your crew...

What will you say now,what will you do?



Kill me for being the poor banished child of Eve...

Conceived from sin,born in transgression...

If that is my origin,then why man-handle me with agression?

I am poor in spirit in your eyes,

but I am sorry,for your heart misconstrues and breeds lies...

I am the poor banished child of Eve,

strong,powerful,free-spirited,beautiful,yes,beautiful,

like a diamond,exotic and rare I am,

rare to the eye,yes,I know it's too much to take in this flare...



They hate me,poor banished child of Eve

They loathe me for standing tall...

Stand tall I will for what is fair and right...

This I will do,with all my might...

I cry myself to bed,yes,the bed which has become damp with my tears.

I cry my eyes out,bulging,crimson red as blood,as I pout...

I cry the tears of an individual unheard.

Guilty I am,murder I have written

Guilty as charged,I stand on trial,I am the poor banished child of Eve...


By Alex Nyasha Dube  ( Zimbabwe )

The Sleep of Sleeplessness

Dangle wishes, if you will
But shall avail so much less.
Push for a revolution, if you please
But luck shall elude your fantasies.
Play the game called fate;
And sore shall your eyes be.


This is not a puzzle, as is fond of me
But a straight expression of truth,
That to my pleasure I will share
To all who wish to be indulgent.


For the moon did caress my thoughts
And made me eyes wane.
So did night creatures, big and small
Convince me to be of little care
And put my trust in the comfort of my bed
So that sleep could rob me
Taking me to the land where nothing physical has ever tread.



I released my hold on realism
And sunk into the deep depths of the cosmos
Carried away by streams of white streaks
And reds, swirling with blues and greens
Until the land of dreamers approached my feet.
I danced, I pranced, a fate I have chanced,
To be gleeful, to be weightless,

Until disaster struck!!!!


It tugged at my soul with such ferocity.
The force greater than a landing jumbo-jet.
It ceased my breath and pinned me down;
I was all but cornered,
I could now see my soul rising out my flesh,
It was parting without a goodbye,
And the terror thereof made me freeze
Willing to battle for my soul.


My innards writhed, squirm, and did feel clamped.
It jumped out, tearing my hopes apart,
Leaving me breathless and utterly fearful.
I feared I was dying, for I could see the darkness,
Darker than any that ever be, or shall ever be
And I threatened to swallow me whole,
Swallow my liveliness, and snuff out my existence.


So sleep coerced me to death.
Sleep bid me a swift farewell
And hide me under some boughs of that age-burdened tree.
But I fought and fled and did run
For I feared fear until fear feared me.
I slept, but almost unto sleeplessness.

Nyame Nipa "The Word maker" ( Ghana )

The beauty of a woman.....

Her picture still reminds me
that every woman is beautiful.
You might see the facial
beauty of a woman,
while another sees her inward beauty.
No matter which beauty
you see in a woman,

source. www.google.zw

the soul of man is awakened
by a woman's beauty,
although which has a lot
to do with character.
Beauty is the power of a woman,
her character the treasure.
Not everyone sees
beauty in everything,
just as not everyone sees
every woman as beautiful,
but every woman is beautiful.

Odimegwu Onwumere  ( Nigeria )

a dream deferred.......

She was your typical
"I'll sleep when I'm dead" township girl
A classical tale of a dream deferred
Not that she cared:
Dreams are for those who still yearn to live the life and she had it all.

She was the queen of the dark:
Her crown hair swinging side to side
Like a tail of a hours;
Her skirts short
With sensual tops
Making a seductive revelation.
She step like expenses on pencil hills;
Long lags that went on for days;
Her wrists blinging.
Lips like balloons inflated;
Dairy cup double D;
She laughs as if singing.

pic source wangechi mutu (kenya)

She was an Idol;
Little miss talked about,
Got her friends loving to hate her,
Fellows hating to love her:
Under pressure, drooling
Making ambitious promises.

Magically sexy
That with just a finger snap
She could split wallets
Like it was the red sea.
She modeled the side walk like a ramp
The grass turning green: envious;
So hot she smoked;
She competed with the sun
For the centre attention of the universe.

But she hated closing her eyes:
It gave her flesh backs
To a time she hit straight As
But strayed when her uncle
Hit her flash on flash.

So she lived beyond her own reality:
Late night clubs and booze;
Tight jeans that left guys
With, as if seen a ghost, smile.
She rolled with boys who drove Golfs;
Who wore crocks and levi's strauss,
Not willing to be conquered
If you drove a conquest.
She was the cream of the town
And boys enjoyed creaming
So a seed was plowed.....

Her smile full of shame...
Her eyes full of pain...
Her heart full of blame...
She realized
The whole village had taken a ride
And she had taken a life
But past is experience gained
And every new day
Is repentance chance.

Neo Thipe and Pat Phore "The Bandung Conference"     South Africa.
http://www.myspace.com/thebandungconference