Monthly Archives: April 2009

The boy’s call!

    Deep inside, there’s a brewing ego

Flamed with barren experiences travelled before

Framed in a dreamed dream

Of this remote passion, he’s to find

The source of where it’s all based

Faraway, a remote place

a strange voice is calling the boy


Sweet like the smell of honey

Echoes, the call—calling him

Like thunder after lighting

Over and over again

Like the aroma of wildly roses

And soothing as the only girl

Loved, he must go and meet

These pleasures

And one day he shall pick a dollar

And fly away

And one day he shall pick a dollar

And sail away

To seek the un-resigning call

Calling—calling, the grateful voice

Unknown of where it’s located

It posses the purpose of him being here

Between him and the voice laid

The oceans and wilderness,

Deserts, thorns and predators

And the boy wants to—to go

To see what might be the tidings

But, fear of what might be waiting

In this toil, his search, his venture

Might be fatal than all he had

Thorough from

Of what weapon-of what strength

Can this given destiny be fulfilled?

He’ll go with the song, gently calming

That had fostered him and to him

It’s his wealthy, but there’s more

That the voice seems to promise

He shall go-because he must

The voice matured this vow

And its offer still stands  

And one day he shall pick a dollar

And fly away

And one day he shall pick a dollar

And sail away

Where, the realm fantasies of  his imaginations are

His purpose, dream and abundance of vitality

There where it’s calling, all pleasing

Pleasures and richness

There he shall go, no matter

What’s to come and pass


Brief author’s autobiography

Being born two in our family and after the deceased of our parents, I as the only guy grown up, I had to make ends meet, for my grandmother and sister, of course I’ve attended school but not to the very term that I can consider valuable enough to make my education the best, but I’ve believed that from that little I could do more. I believed in my talent of writing and my creative mind that this will lead me to the fulfilment of my dreams. I wanted so much to make my family happy and all that it takes to leave a fruitful life, not only for my family but the suffering of others troubled me as well.

When inflation begins to sprawl in the parts of my country Zimbabwe, I was left with no choice but to just follow the steps of others, so from hearing the rumours that people are crossing over to neighbouring countries to work, I had to go and I had to be quick, the condition of my grandma was totally a nightmare, this all was caused by our situation of being our own fenders through the works of gathering and collecting and a garden that we had, selling vegetables from it to earn money for school fees and food and other needs.

I had three unfruitful times coming in South Africa for work, through risk motives, as hiding under a track spare wheel while crossing the border, and during my sojourns I had fallen in betrays, I’ve been caught and deported back due not having money to bribe the cops and hard labour work when trying to make money, all this made me suffer emotionally and I had no shoulder to lay upon, however, the sense that I was meant for a reason didn’t lick from me, each and every toil I pass in life, I had never let go off this sense. I remained a self soldier equipping myself with hope and prayers that these prolonging situations should come to an end one day.

 During my third time, after when I’ve seen that things weren’t working alright at all I made my first move to Cape Town in aim to seek a ship and sail away, in the streets of Cape Town, that’s where someone referred me to the Mylife project, whereas this project  motivated me in working with computers and social issues.

 Each and every day of my life i fought, if not physically, emotionally and i learned that the inside war isn’t easy than that we fight physically, once one won the one inside then his/her outside begins to brighten. 


The baobab root

Strengthened, the baobab root
That wound underground
That pushes through the rocks
Separating all that awaits
Like a wriggling worm
The patience, slow and sure

All the way down, clamming
Tugging the source, water and earth
Sucking and swelling
Sucking and swelling

The heat of the sky, above
Foliage barricades
Tight trying-tight shading
Restraining the sucking sun
But still spotlights are there
There under the shadow

The root pushes-meandering
Sucking and swelling
Sucking and swelling
swelling the trunk
Exuberant, leaves forming

The branches stretches, heaved
The early fruits, the green leaves
All hailing to the root
As well birds of the air
Dwell secured within the height
Through all the seasons
The baobab root toils
Breasting for growth

Some lover

I love there pretty,I love there surely
The ground your light feet touches
Exceedingly for years i’ll remember
And be bound to deliver your home vine
Over the seasons, dry or wet
I shall dress you in my leather coat
When the sky bleeds and for the cold
I’ll set you up my shoulder to pluck
The unreachable apples of summer
And shut the mouth of beast’s and smite
And be a lover amid all the clock ticks
You my lover, are a bliss of my eye
And i shall love there, though to spirit
We came and shall return


Somewhere down the Broadway Street
There is a little butcher’s daughter
Waiting for her little boyfriend
With a khaki paper wrapping a little meat

Her boyfriend got a little story
It ain’t hard, it ain’t easy
Just this couple is trying to make ends meet
It’s always the ego for a little something
That makes life prevail in a little way

I the writer got a little story too
Which is this, with this little couple?
It ain’t hard, it ain’t easy, just
A piece of paper and a broken pencil

This daughter got a little story too
She’s waiting to explain
The little thing in her belly
However she’s sure, her
Daddy is to freak

It’s always a little chilli in the soup
That makes her daddy gas out rage
She’s thinking to elope with her boyfriend
But afraid that he won’t buy that

A little work, a little money
Her boyfriend is to find it hard
To afford, the little baby
The little girlfriend

A little food, a little medicine
You can’t say this is a little stress
For her boyfriend, he’s all alone

If this little story don’t change the better
One of the little couple is gonna
Commit a little suicide
Where this little story would leaves us?
I say it’s got to be a big story



Blood gushing from the dead
Survivor’s fresh wounds
The aftermath, endured war,

“Tell you wife-tell you sweety,
The bitterness of sweating for blood
Never encouraged by peace,
It will evaporate and rain blood
through seasons

For blood streams, flood the
Soldier’s work grounds
Blood on earth, the life source of man

Kids, up, up to bed, you’re luck
Anothers are dead, some still
Smeling milk on the tips of their noses
This is horror,
Nightmares I can’t tolerate,
when I try my anguish on the pillow

Wife do not complain over my bottle’s loads,
I deserve it; to pass out a moment,
Sweety! Listen with a dead heart,
If you’ve got none,
Forbid me to proceed, for
I wouldn’t want you faint
After all, dear
Tonight I might need some

Vultures are getting healthy
Massive flies,buzzing in shots,
Same red tainted dogs, travel
Feasting and howling
For the meat in abundance
Without fights,
Eyes, tongues, intestines, the marrows
And spilled brains
All the taste of a man

Over the headless bodies and
The bodyless heads,
A man had ripped apart a man,
Earth is tangled, a waste! 
The whole population defected,
Oh! Pity, the survivors can
Not do without them
And that’s why they mourn

Massive, massacre is the very
Word to describe
Husbands are gone and sons
Some, with vows left unpayed,
The womb bearers, where
They had sprung from,
Groan and moan night and day 
with continuous stomach-aches,
Dirty children forsaken, weep
On the bossom of their left overs

For what great cause should a 
Man spill what we didn’t fill
Yet the blood that runs through all veins
Is of one will and one purpose

Lands, riches, quantity, all precious
The glory that weave this world
Was not invented by man and shall never
Be ours, all is vanity, all is vanity
And grasping for the wind
For from void we came, there
We shall return

Grounds are soaked
Deeply saturated with cold blood
The very life source that can not be denied
Stories are ravaging bereaved families
And their tears are floods
Causing terror and overwhelming
It’s horror-it’s nightmare
The atmosphere lingers blood


The writer, a long haunting road

You’re driving along the Deadhood Street
The radio is bursting, loud, hard
Striking your mind, trying to resist
The haunting bloodthirsty atmosphere
This within your mother’s city
And this is you, leaving with unpaid sins’

What you gonna do, in the middle of the night
What you gonna do, dark spirits start frightening
What you gonna do, the dead are coiling your mind
What you gonna do—writer—what you gonna do?

The gas runs out, the car comes to halt
Your chicken heart start to shiver
Cars are long gone; so ain’t hitch hiking

You try to fall asleep, hand clutch a rifle
Something evil is brushing by the window
And you feel cold, very cold
Wandering, yet, all windows are shut tight
What you gonna do?

Startled, you open an eye, there stands
Hovering eyes, glowing red in set view of blood
And when you blink twice, you find them gone
There is one cigar left and you suck it quickly
It’s quite, but you heart is loud, beating
The very beat that makes your readers hearts beat
Are paranoid fantasies catching? No! You believe
Aha, creepy writer fellow, what you gonna do?

Now it’s time to generate a move and start the road
There ain’t colours, just plain empty darkness
And indeed you hit on the road, trying guts,
But doubtful you stand and that’s ain’t faith,
You have to, to see darkness as light
Never the craving for more cigars

Further, after a long walk—aha, there
There is the other city, the midnight city tower
Is now close, you marvel at the tiny light
Being blotted with leaves up the heights
‘There are ancient dead beneath their shadows’
You own book, you quoted, and it’s in the soul
And now haunted by self designs

At last the dim moon emerges
Never with yesterday’s star clusters
Nor the ones that you saw, when having sex
With Molly, on that soothing night
And by then, you hear the familiar sound
The sound of the jackal, then dark spots
Start crawling under the dim moon
Getting dimmer and dimmer

And you know something evil, is out there to kill
You doubt it; really your words can’t be coming
Reality, same said by the scriptures
‘The word became flesh and—and—’
It becomes speechless, you’re doomed
Here they were travelling with you
Here they were activating from your
Dormant memory to terrorise their creator

You wander if ever you would see the light
Or chill on Lilly’s, breast; yes sweet Lilly
The one you’ve got, since molly died—
How she died, writer you know!
The book you offered her had a curse
The secrets of darkness, you shouldn’t had shared

The small glittering dots, you can’t mistaken
For fireflies, they are embedded in darkness
And seem, winking eyes of evils
And you’re out of your comfort zone,
However, not quite enough can it be one,
The four seat Citroen car
Not even any sign of it, perhaps you
Should turn back, but no—you must keep
Going, keep your thoughts steady and
Fear not, and then you shall be saved

You can’t steady them, they are being driven
Your mind is being pressed with the devils fist,
You feel the compression of your body
Getting thinner and thinner, you’re falling in,
In the abyss of darkness, the devils filthy mouth
To swallow and munch———— munch
Great bites, cracking the head on the stone
Plucking the brains out and eat-munch-munch
Blood dripping——and—and

Just thoughts, the force of imagination
You don’t stop—you carry on
Almost trembling and gnashing your teeth
Your stomach is not fine—no! Not at all

Aha, there afar, there is a figure spot walking
Fast, maybe terrified with your presence
Maybe, you should do the same and catch up
Should it be a being or not?
You wonder, but the fleeing remark, made
You quicken, to accompany the stranger

You’ve now got a handsome distance, it’s now
A bit prominent and you can hardly see
The lady in a fray white dress
Her hair being swept with the wind
Barefooted and she looks in need
And indeed moving fast, you’re suprised
You haven’t yet gained the distance
It’s still the same–weird!

Your feet ache, like you’ve walked all your
Life long, you’re thirst and completely tired
You’re afraid to meet her, your heart strongly
Urges, you can’t help it, death or no death
You must face your challenge and fight
And after all, it’s in the book—to fight

Finally you’re close, she doesn’t look back
Though your foot tries the tar to gain her attention
You can see blood on her dress, her feet dripping
Something you can not name, tousled hair but pretty
Yours stands on end, you’re undesirable element
On these parts of land, at the wrong time
And your heart starts to tremble, your mind
Singing a scary meaningless song, incanation
There is no way to stop it, it’s flowing hell’s floods
Your imaginations are very strong, you had pumped this in
Your books had done quite good on the markets
It’s time for pay back–“Pay back–pay back”
Goes the song

What you gonna do, you’re in the middle of the night
What you gonna do, maybe she’s a vampire
What you gonna do, she’s gonna suck you dead
What you gonna do, your characters are after you
What you gonna do, writer, what you gonna do?

The atmosphere completely changes
The snares and whines are tightly coiling
The moon is shadowed with clouds
The dark figure after you is wanly smoking
You want to turn back, but you felt it
You’re stuck, you’re being controlled

She turns back and faces you, pretty and innocent
She stops for you to come, though you fight to cease
But you can’t, you’re hypnotized, she’s pulling you
The way she pulls up her dress for you to see her thighs
While her breast dangles off her dress
Her eyes, every move you take, they change
Her mouth widens, teeth getting long and ready for a bite
And now you know, she’s a vampire, the incuber

Looking like Molly, the face comes closer as if to kiss you
There is a fetid air brushing your nose, the eyes are green
Her face angelic, you can’t resist, you even move over yours’
Receiving the kiss, it’s nice—yes nice, very nice,
The ecstasy is growing strong, and you fear her not
But care for the lustful existence of her lovemaking
She got down on you neck, you set your hand across her waist
And she bites, you feel nothing but pleasure and completely.

Welcome to the night walking dead