Candidate 45

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I will not speak of another’s heartaches

Be it candidate 44 0r 46

In honest truth I have worries

That I exceed my holding capacity

So relate no longer to the outside world

Because everything I have worked for boils down to this

All the years will be defined

By a period from October to November

Life has proved yet again to be antagonistic

I have put in years and yet hours will make or break me

But that is the least of my worries

My spirit is thronged by the anxiety

Of whether or not I will get there

I know I am losing myself

My anxiety paralyses me into a trance

That has my body locked in suspension

Of lack of food, sleep, focus

I am not the first nor the last

When will I get the perfect mark?

That should bring back my confidence

Which got stolen on registration day

What pains me the most really

Is witnessing candidate 40 to wherever

Understand what keeps me up all night

What kills me then

Is knowing my stronghold has lost faith in my abilities

That turns my world grey

The going is now stormy

And my only wish sometimes

Is to be woken up when November ends

I have come too far to give up

I have lost too much to let it go

I will now end my complaints and get working

For I know with the arrival of October

I will be alone on that desk

Equipped with a few essentials

My pen; My God; My effort.Image

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Official tale about the Unofficial girl

2

ImageI shake the contents of your bottled heart

Through pushing you to live outside the box

I know your arguments of sophistry

And I have entertained them too long

Why should we make rules

That govern our untameable spirits

And that is how we made it here

Where we do what comes naturally

Whilst the only guide we have is our heart beat, entwined

That is why I shake it out

By dragging you out of the shadows

To the lit pathway of love, hope and charity

You could only manoeuvre a few kilometres

Before I convinced you to let go of that baggage

Why burst our fragile bubble of joy

Why jeopardise our life line with past broken promises dashed dreams

This road gets foggier with every step

But the destination is not as important as right now

In this boulevard I hold your hand

Squeeze it tighter as I hear the vicious hound dogs

Threaten to end us with logic and reason

Because honestly speaking we do not know what we are

And in this avenue you hold me closer

My mind cannot help but hang out with Doubt

If this will persevere to new streets and corners

I adore everything about us

As your every kiss imprints on my heart

And they get deeper with every embrace

We do not say what we express

Such formalities have depressed me a while

That is when I let go of the safety bar

But then we both know your irresistible classic comebacks

To officially begin our unofficial journey

Can I now rest my head on your chest?

And completely surrender my mind, body and soul

Let your illegal hands hold me tighter

And from time to time let your lips trespass onto mine

We will keep at it

With an unknown destination, undefined relation, unanticipated goal times

In all this uncertainty

I am only sure of two facts, you being here

And that there is nothing official about us being officially together.    

 

Mr Chiyadzwa

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No one gave him a second look

That tore past his ligaments

Unkempt, ill-fated, insignificant, ill-favoured

Insulted, abused and assaulted by such facts in the face

Facts of the past that had society make him

With the exception of those reliant on him

He was otherwise known as nobody

To the ignorant nation he was the absence of colour

Who hailed funny talking descendants

Laying dormant in the east of the country

Slowly and carefully hatching a plan of diamonds

That everyone wanted and not everyone got

Then with their discovery came his notorious road to fame

The wailing of the people who woke him from his slumber

Their suffering soon became what he thrived on

Mr Chiyadzwa became an escape goat for get rich fast swindlers

His home housed escapee persons whom school had not befriended

For they found common ground on the absence of the certificate

He single headedly built his hometown into a city

But what about the rest of us?

He held that much responsibility

But are we not the ones who belittled him?

And such questions roused the pandemonium which reeked of havoc

As the impatient started planning their lives

Around the luck of being Mr Chiyadzwa’s promised few favourites

I do not judge them

And the academics were naïve enough to convince themselves they could tame his future

He is a beast

And their lack of compassion let him out

I do not judge him

But I looked puzzled to hide

As the road to hell is paved with good intentions

He did only that which we had taught him

To be passive and ignorant

Everyone was candid about the good stuff

And few gossiped about the unlucky thousands

Whose lives he robbed

Or innocence he defiled

Great women molested of their hearts

Grown men’s bodies broken to pieces

And his rampage heartlessly stole our souls

But are we not the ones who destroyed his humanity first?

And we broke each other

I do not judge us the illiberal nation

We neglected him to wonder about the forests

Only to make him the very thing we fear.  

 

   

Mannequin Of Hope

2

The man without a face came again

I had resisted his charm for so long, but the veil of lies was thinning out

You know the usual lies; fake smiles, I am happy, I am strong, I’ll survive

But last night he found me ready to be wooed

He whispered the fatal question so gently

“you can do whatever you need”

I was beyond self medication

He offered me selective amnesia

Where to begin; the past is so coiled up I barely know where to start

What to choose from a vast selection of moments I want to undo

Maybe our first kiss

That joyful bliss at a funeral

Guilty of having happy memories amongst a depressing gathering

But that was not the start of the complex numbers

Maybe when we first sat so intimately next to each other

And I ushered you through an interpretation of my life

My cancer is how so much affection was left unspoken, unsaid, unappreciated, unexplored; immaturely discovered

It was magnified by the countless kisses in never before explored places embedded deep in memory

By the way; you will always be the first explorer to my virgin womanhood

My diagnosis was catalysed by my departure

And your refusal to let me go

Six months of catalogued thoughts of you in dreams

Six months of staring blankly past everyone

Only to find solace in looking at naked mannequins

Because they feed my illusions of who you are

They allow me to visualise the man I want you to be; where I want you to be:

Right here intimately next to me

Anyway no mannequins here, reality is that I am freelancing here

And you there, being the person I thought I would be this year

“Its quite alright man-without-a-face, there is too much I need to forget, then this would be a lesson forgotten”

For now I will comfort myself in that there is a reason life permitted you to scar me

And I shunned the man-without-a-face’s form of relief.  

  

The Peter Hurting

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As anger soars through my every vein

As heartache renders me heartless

As pain squanders my memory savings

As hurt vaporises my joys

It rings too familiarly to Peter

To ruin me just as much as he did

He is the standard by which gentlemen can endanger ladies

 

Yours can never surpass the Peter bar

His was the first and last of such pain

His was the disillusionment of the shattering kind

His was the end of sweet nothings

His was the measurement that gave way to cruelty or rather clarity

 

Yours is child play compared to Peter

Your eyes do not stare at me with hatred

Your eyes do not banish me to be unworthy to exist

Your smile does not make me skip a beat

Your smile does not end my security

Your hands do not clench in my presence

Your hands do not threaten to end my existence

You but just caused a crack in my heart

Peter on the other hand, almost ripped it open

Be glad you are not remotely close to hurting me as much as Peter did

For I will not have to deal with you as I did with him

For I became a renegade from the principle of his presence

I made myself into a better person

I made him regret his child like actions

I made him beg and plead to be in my midst

I made him the man he never was.    

Colourful Days

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So started the song of a thousand hymns

A journey of harbours, garages, hangars

The greatest of prohibitive tendencies shun to non-effectiveness

A hapless heart, a hopeless heart finding rhythm simultaneously

Prolonged special moments, times of acme

Forever saying goodbye twirled them into acapella

It was to part just the physical reality

Not the real, not the genuine strings attached

They were colourful days, the colour of love vividly visible

 

I can imagine how she felt

Being held so close yet they so faraway

I can imagine how he felt

Loved but not comforted

But when they did meet

For those long awaited few days

Black and white became bright yellow baby blue

I can imagine they had colourful days

 

I do wonder how she survived

Her present, his past, their future

I am curious to know how he let go

All those difficult times

She loved him, healed him

Despite having dark grey days

They could look to the future; together

In search of those colourful days

 

I too felt her pain

Having to let go her piece of heaven

A lot of nights where she hoped to never wake up

A lot of days she wished were a nightmare

But when she looked into their eyes she had strength

Strength to fight and help them have colourful days.    

Room 13’s Lesson

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It is true; you do feel it before it happens

It comes as a gut feeling in your stomach

But you shun it away in fear of paranoia

And it persists on your conscience

Then you it off in the hope it is just a feeling

Unfortunately in a few minutes you find you are right

His hands pull you back and you try to scream

You are then choked by the hands, by your fear

You cry pleading for mercy

Simultaneously fighting for your life

You wish one of your loved ones

Passing right in front of your eyes

Would wake you up from this nightmare

You persist on the fight, he gets more frustrated

He punches your face in

But you still do not feel the pain

Because you know the worst part is coming

You cross your legs

Squeeze your eyes shut

You pray harder than you ever have

He reaps away your blouse and smiles

You stare at him in horror as you cannot understand

How your own countryman would defile you like this

You start to wonder where the love is in this world

If home is no longer your safe haven

You realise gone are the days

When women were the prize jewel of any country

You cry even harder; not because of the pain

But that all of your tears do not soften his heart

It beats melted to stone

An d even as he violently robs you of your womanhood

You feel more sorry for him than yourself

For a man with no heart surely does not know love

And this monster of barbaric ways never deserved it

And as you slowly lose consciousness

You feel you have lost the fight

You feel its better you die

Than to live life after this downfall

What you do not know, understand is

You will fight and you will survive

And nurse the child born of such tragedy

To love a woman more than himself

To never forget a woman’s worth

To cherish a woman

For she will always hold his heart in place

Keep the house in check

And the country in its highest esteem

And as a woman, you will grow to love yourself more. 

  

 

 

Nembudziya kinda loving

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As I sit under the Mutondo tree

Awaiting your arrival

I get anxious, get a bit of goose bumps

My heart is hastened into calm

You always there when you say you will

I feel you close, nothing to worry

The African sun dried the red roses you meant to give me

Poverty left the watch in the shop display

The one meant for your birthday

You sneaked up behind me

Your grubby fingers notched across my eyes

I was not startled a bit

Your natural scent of sweat and much interaction with the motherland

settled my nerves, to simmer the fright inside

I turn around to embrace you

I inhale the toxic smell

I close my eyes

Squeeze them tight

In your blessed assurance, I do not want to let go

I know this is where I belong

You caress my sun-baked skin with your scaled hands

I look down to my jagged edged toe nails

My bony hand runs through my ginger hair

Stylish in the west

Poverty in the south

Evidence of lack of utensils

You speak of my dress

I dare not say compliment

For it was once yellow, now it has patches of all colours

But you still see past all that

You are that warrior for me

We walk in the light

That supposedly gives headaches elsewhere

We stop in the shade

To let our dry, cracked lips meet

To let the dry breeze revitalise us beings

We are young and in love

Amateurs in an art of intrinsic strong affection

Now as the sun sets beyond the horizon

The tall dry grass no longer swerves

We have to part again

Tomorrow we will commence with this forbidden art

Which tastes so bitter so sweet

With half our legs clustered with red dirt

I turn to take my leave

I let your hand go and feel my heart stuck motionless with you

Lost in the memories we made

One day I will be old enough to make our great escape

To just love as that is all we have

To live our African dream through our Nembudziya kind of loving.   

 

In My Enesty State Of Mind (part2)

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This is how you chose to say goodbye

No beat, no song, just my acapella heart of sojourn

And there is what you told me today

With more of  your actions and less of your words

That the boy I befriended is gone away

If its to the sea, I will buy a ship

If its home, then here is a road trip

And if he is dead then allow me a world in the spirit world

To say goodbye to my rock abruptly softened

I’ll lie, I’ll die if I deny goodbye means exactly what it means

Even though I see you everyday

I just smile and indulge in a conversation or two

Which always kills any hope of a fire

I look at you and see a man

But when I search further I find traces of the boy who was once naïve enough to love me

The boy who forgave not this man of redundancy

I am not broken just fractured

A chip of my ego peeled off

As I realise the boy moved on a long time ago

I have just been holding on to his holograph

I have been dinning with his reflection

If I cannot have it real, then, deny me the pleasure completely

I will not play the blame game because the players are vindictive

I hold back tears on the brink of forming a waterfall

I sit on a time bomb of anger that could be the end of me

so as you leave, please move out quietly

I need to concentrate on this balance, held of fragility

Switch off the light

The darkness will only give me strength

To relight my life and not owe it to anyone

You have taken everything except my potential

Yours sincerely, formerly yours.