M-HANGI

Come on now

You can't die on me just yet

toooo much unfinished business we got

too much body-luggage

and holding keys to the city

this is no state to go to paradiso 

i ken't

and talking of your ribs

they are yet to crackle

are you afraid of happiness

delivered by born again pagans

or merely the religious tap of wicked fingers

is this dance the real deal
or merely a contested mutuality.

© July 2018

THINGS

We colonised the skies

there was nowhere to fly

together we drained the swamps

they had nowhere to breed

and no air to breath

killing the competition

was mastered time-stamp

conquests w/as an art

and love?

love is a state of mental instability.

© April 2018

NAIMAH

Here you are!

pretty thing. tiny feet. purer heart

how time flies and tries and dies

before our very eyes

four shallow years
set to drift by tomorrow

it seems so close to yesterday
that brief ceremony of scalpels
from which you came forth
shrills of thrill in medicated rooms

where sanitized air and i
soothed your dazed mama
to tentative slumber
your welcome shrill an only interruption

four seasons of joy

punctuated with moments

of stiffening trepidation
from birth pains to growth pains

the rise and fall of seasons

no one knows
what tomorrow holds
but in this concert of daddily rhymes

love reigns

with uncontested affection 

grow up Nay
happy 48 moons mama!

© January 2018

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

Once again
we stand naked, here
at the crossroads of despair and hope
holding onto each other's abusive hands
gazing into the teary horizon

we stood at the midpoint of it all

behind us
familiar crowds
chants of reconditioned anthems
hopes repackaged and visions regurgitated

yet still we fell for the anthem
or did we?
a tyranny of blunders ahead
a litany of murders behind

what a season of cynicism
what improbability of hope

yet daylight must surely come

©December 2017

WE WERE ONE. STILL

must it take adversity to bring us together
our oneness merely but temporary
we are one is not but a maligned anthem
a forced reminder of catastrophic failures
in the nationalist project

ethnic geographies, orgies of theft
myths of oneness abound
the burden of history brings trepidation
as a nation gropes through its worst fears

It is the season of plunder
and wanton abandon

why are we like this

© March 2017