Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Good people, hi, hope all's well...

Am new in bloggosphere, and will therefore ask you to forgive me any faux pax i may commit...

So, now what do i do?

Am setting up this blog to talk to you about my poetry book, Mureza, in the Shadow of the Flag... as well as all my other projects; of which they will be many.

I would like to invite all of you to feel free to become a part of this world; and together we can make beautiful music in the literary arts. I am very grate ful to my newly found friends in the arts; the likes of Ivor Hartmaan and Immanuel Sigauke; who have literaly been holding my hand as i embark on this journey into the wild blogosphere.

I promise you, guys, i will walk soon, and before you know it, i will be running...

Keep on blogging!!

This is an extract from the book, hope you enjoy it, and give me feedback....

"Mureza is a brutal, yet searingly honest look inside the mind and heart of an ordinary Zimbabwean today; be it the guilt-ridden economic refugee slaving away in some dirty job in a corner of the world somewhere, the Shebeen Queen battling with the morality of the way she has to earn her living, or the sweating priest of the local ‘vapostori’ church, dancing the night away in the religious dances of desperation…
It is the voice of the bleeding heart of a broken nation, a once proud people reduced to scavenging the conference halls of the Diaspora, desperately begging for the world’s attention, sympathy and understanding; and yet somewhere in the poems, the reader can still hear the silent voices of hope, determination, tenacity and promises of another day…."


When this era of madness comes to an end
When the dark clouds of
Uncertainty clear;
And the drums of fear stop
Rumbling in my land,
I shall go back home;
I shall go back home,
And see my mother;
To lay my bruised pride and ego

On her shoulders of love,
I shall go back home
And see my father
To listen carefully to his words of
As he takes me through the
Pathways and bye ways of my youth;
And tries to explain
How it all went wrong;
I shall go back home and see my lover;
To feel the sensuous touch of her lips,
As we discuss the brief but sad history of our Motherland,
The tabernacles of pain,
Upon which our youth, our dreams and aspirations have been sacrificed;
I shall see my friends,
We shall sit down at the table of regret, anger and disappointment,
Engaging ourselves in the futile discussions of the what-might-have-beens,
Seeking to find solace in the still pulsating dreams and hopes
For a better tomorrow,
I shall go back home;
And in the shadow of our beautiful flag

We shall attempt to rebuild our land;
And as the waters of the mighty
Zambezi cascade over Mosi-o-a tunya,
We shall stand together and begin to walk,
Towards a better day;
Full of hope, promises and never-ending tomorrow…

29. VOICES….

I Hear voices,
I hear the silenced voices of the people of my land,
I hear voices of anger, disappointment, dissent, disapproval…
I hear voices of the starving children of the motherland, and tears come to my eyes;
My heart bleeds for the women that gave birth to them, only to watch them slowly die;
I cry for the men of this land,
As I hear their voices screaming silently in the middle of the night;
Muffled…Deadened... Dying….
I hear voices,
I hear the voices of the young men of this land;
As they labour away in the dirt holes of the world;
Breaking their backs in the service of foreign lands;
I hear the voices of my sisters;

Proud daughters of the soul;
Disillusioned; prostituting their bodies and their souls all over the world;
Ugly flotsam in the confusion of the tyranny of this land,
Their hard earned education gone to waste;
Unused... Unutilised… wasted...

I listen to the voices..;
Everlasting hope and on-going despair,
Long forgotten joys and present anguish,
Apathy and talk of revolution,
Peace and war…

I hear voices.., and sometimes...
Sometimes, I cannot help but wonder,
If the voices I hear are inside my head; and if they are not;
Does anybody else hear them...?
Does the world hear them...?
Can you hear the voices…?
Can you…..


Tell me no more;
No more stories of your anger and pain,
For I have had enough,
Enough of your endless mourning,
Of your tales of crushed hopes and your endless anguish,
Of your days of terror and your nights of hunger;
Tell me no more, for I have heard it all before;

And no matter how much we spoke about it,
Nothing changed...
We watched as our motherland was violently raped,
Our daughters deflowered by the tyrant’s thugs, and
Our sons die with hunger, and our fathers wilt with shame;
And still nothing happened,
We talked about it,
Long into the night,
How wrong it was,
How we should do something about it, how a change must surely come, someday;
We talked about it,
Long into the night,
And still nothing happened…

I do not want to hear anymore;
Your sons have packed up and gone, your daughters take no heed of you,
I will not listen anymore,
So please tell me no more;
No more of this revolutionary nonsense,
For it will get more of our people killed;
No more of this fighting spirit talk,

For it will lead our children into prison,
I do not want to hear it,
So tell me no more...
In my mind, I will always be free,
My daughters will always be pure, and my sons will be men;
And the flame of freedom will burn forever in a little corner of my heart;
So, go on;
Sing your songs of war somewhere else,
Let me be,
Leave me alone,
I do not want to hear anymore;
So; please, tell me no more…-