A walk in the ghetto

Walking in the ghetto Tembo Chirenje Moyo

Every sight and sound is the spectre of quarantine/lotioned habitation made  smooth by Vaseline talk/a calculated system/crooked bins new years bongo drums bringing revolution from sqoulor /thuggery /sex and tetrahydrocannabinols/schools for juveniles/kids all want to go south none can do their sums/ghettoes have no trees like the city full of greens/fly’s drone the  wannabe bees of the slumz/more drives than avenues more tower lights than street lights to illuminate perceptions for one to reach their inner heights/arms tatooed the graffiti of rebellion –dangerous minds/young age vision to make thousands now we blowing millions/micro minis blown out hips/jasmine smell she and he gel sexy curls curves that clear throats/corners that have seen more dreams than Martin luther king/Revlon painted lips feminine war paint/whoring tales burst pipes we have seen the same uncollected rubbish since the day we were born/super cool sales/cost of living rising lunch ngamagwinya and maputi/plastic balls wire cars and clay dolls/stories of stubborn foreman reduced wages/denied prospects of bonuses/redundancy, strikes/more unemployed/prayer meetings/the laughter and tears  on the street,umbhaka  e park or  umbhejo e  bujumbura, ski lo nayo siphandu ucash to go ebhayisikopo,the ‘gizhah gizhah’ the best cinematic experience the participative audience who thought we could change the movie,efiga o ematsotsi choose your style esincane or izankatha,or its just kanzatho, kanzatho to patch the throats of those who fed the machines with their labour, tales of the ghetto izola zika Khumz lako Njombi , e new lobs to ema 7 hundred ,eWest and eGwabalanda Magwegwe to enjube,swaggers,u ski ,ara huru lo nayo, one generation the next does the same heads nodding to dub poets slanging word on the street/ Ko Mam kayz zisiwa more amanqine bhawa,sethengi inhloko lezanga phakathi,the  ‘zulu,zulu buya sidle makhomane’ ,inkomo zomdaka,some grew up when they played ‘ubaba,lo mama tasted the mystery and where shocked by the discovery and we thought babies where made of clay,big stomach omunye esequmbi indumba backyard saloons gossip by the fence/fist fights between man snatchers/shebeens dimly lit school boys drink their fill ties hidden in pockets /peace and mini wars the pulse of the street/black cats crossing streets/pigeon cages /pretence /choir groups/ rosaries/drama clubs / arawuru ,fist fights made man /drunks spit commonsense umbhejo using bricks for goal posts/amatender foot walk  streets raise dust/ Zu’s saloon,duets in rhyme and verse synchronized like drum and poet/eyes on the money, keep it in your pocket,my

 Mind inflames pages when l walk in the ghetto..

 

A POEM ABOUT A POEM

Write me poem that is spawned from the 69 position of now and then/one having a ménage trios with you, it an destiny/without limits but with necessary words/that is a symphony to the bantu  plight /one that is about justice fuck equal rights how do you put in one sentence equal and rights,know your rights and justice is yours

One that questions its own existence

Intertwined like the grapevine of love and pain a therapy for thoughts

Resistant to the excess influence of sub culture

Chanted from the pulpits of bantu sanity

Write a poem whose words are not

blow up dolls,they need flesh,bones and soul