True Fiction

I sit my drying napkinned  arse on this floor

Drooling in stupefaction at bliss around me

My tiny toothless voice amazes my ears

I clasp my dexterous fingers and fart

Like a drunkard throwing out

I crawl towards her lap

Mama my throne!

I am her Mwana King!

Some rough hands interrupt my regal crawl

I can cry now Mama!

But they toss me up high to the ceiling

I am startled at my kingdom

My bed, my floor, my couch, my fridge, my Mama

I look down at him who exalts me

His big eyes, His smile and beard

I smile

Could he be my father?

I am Mwana King!

Her fleshy hands rescue me from his playfulness

I fly into her lap

That he sometimes shares when I doze

I need something to suck now

I look around and cry a bit

At her bosom she quickly nipples the crises

From the corner of my eyes I see him staring

My bosom that he often shares when I doze

This must be my father!

I am his Mwana King!

In delight and tranquillity I wink forty times

When the king naps

Peace laps around this kingdom

When I wake up dethroned by you know who

What else could I do when my napkin is wet?

What else could I do when I am thirsty?

Hurry up Mama!

Stop grumbling Father!

I am your Mwana King!

© Mike Mware 2010

I want to laugh with you God!

I want to laugh with you God

I know you God laugh at me

When I sneeze my farts

And pretend nobody heard

I know you laugh at me God

When I stretch my neck

To marvel at daughters of Eve

But now I want to laugh with you

So that tomorrow I will laugh at you God!

They all think I am crazy

Insane

When I laugh at prayer

Your holy presence tickles my hairy armpits

That priest stares at me with disbelief

Policemen search my pockets and shoes

No weed there

Just need to laugh here

When I cried they said I was charismatic

If I shut up

 They say I am thinking of somebody’s healthy wife

Now that I laugh

 They are monitoring the wine from the sacristy

If only they would hear your jokes to the ears of my heart

God you are sublime fun!

That man who mumbled rubbish in the desert

You opened the earth and it ingested him

You also opened the orifice of the donkey and it said to Balaam

‘Haibo! Eish…why are you hammering me like that you spukupuku’

Your Son Lord warned us of unfaithful servants

Who will receive serious and thorough innumerable

Painful blows of the cane on the buttocks

God I still want to laugh with you

Forget the gnashing of teeth

I just want to laugh

With the smiling toothless beggar in the streets

Forget the everlasting flames of hell

Let’s flame this meat, drink and love one another

Forget the horned and horny Devil

I want to laugh with those little innocent angels

Hovering in amazement

At what happens behind the burning bushes

Unlike the pope who dozes during a long service

God I really want to laugh with you now

And sleep later!

The God of love and laugh

The God who laughs in us!

And you! Yes you, forget you heard (read) this poem!

©  Mike Mware 2010

In this tiny room I sit

Grimacing and sweating

Clinging this seat with mounting despair

I frown and grunt

Feel the trembling veins on my neck and down

I curse and shake my head

Shift sigh and try again

Nothing!

It burns me slowly and deeply

The coarse and shredded skin

I forgot my flinching nostrils

And the shifting footsteps of my neighbour

All I hear is splash-less sounds

Earful and air-full threats

Nothing!

I lift up my head

The caricatures of a hope ridiculed

Curses of asphyxiated mouths

Graphs of supine laid women

Knees pointing to the heavens

Lambasted leaders whose names paint these common walls

I try again

Nothing!

My neighbour sends his away triumphantly

To be reunited in the roads

Where his daughter plays butterscotch

I groan

Others paint the walls

Yet All I hit is this wall

Another bangs my door and slightly opens it

He pleads and whines that he has diarrhoea

I stare at my inked finger

Nothing!  

© 2010 Mike Mware

Moulded from this rocky dust

Enwombed in the dark chamber of life

After some dark and sweaty yearning

I peeped blindly into this noisy world

Smudged with streaks of blood and mucus

After her sweaty groaning

He held me up clapped me and grinned

She held me and smiled down tears of joy

I cried

I crawled aimlessly on the dusty gravel

As she swept dust into the dawning air

Touching, smelling and licking dust

I rested my tiny naked bottom on the soil

Gurgled and burped in wonder

She picked me up with her soft hands

Her who sucked and chewed the earth

When I was being moulded in her

As I clung on her shoulders

I smelled the cloudy dust and sweat of those dawns

When I grew they took me

Down the dusty foot path

Before she swept the yard

Or the chickens drew their feet in the dust

To sweat for our mealies

Squat for sweet potatoes and behind the shrubs

And as the sun warmed our shiny foreheads

We sweated under the Muhacha shades

The bus to town provoked a cloud of dust

We frowned and covered our noses!

And splashed our dusty sweat in the river

Those long nights under the moon

Where we sole danced clouds of dust

And sweated our salty troubles out

Before clinging to one another in the shadows

And sweating our embraces in

To be awakened by  jealous dawns

That now have separated us

We who were united in dust and sweat!

I lie here drenched in my sweat

A cool breeze caress the walls of the dust coated hut

Now and again dusty feet enter this room

I feel the cold cow dunged dusty floor

How I long to crawl once again with a nude bottom

And taste the dust with my pink chapped lips

So she can pick me up

Before sweaty men bury me into that dark chamber

And this dust swallows and nibbles me back home!

Dust and sweat!

© 2010 Mike Mware

When they tell and retell it

That God is a huge bearded giant

Floating and chilling on the clouds

With eyes huge and fiery like the sun

Watching at dusk as at midnight

One day to reward you with avocado pears or fire

Then bite your lip and kick that god!

When they tell you again

That God understands not your tongues

And only dances to guitars and organs

Shunning your loud drums and naked dances

Who said God is white?

Why must he be black?

Run before they paint her Green!

Beware of the God who adores the aroma of burning flesh

Of the man who lives across your border

The God who gathers stones for you

Before you rape and stone prostitutes and gays at noon

Yet she who saw all the shadows with her big eyes

The soft early dawn knocking and whispers

Run before such a God pelts, rapes and burns you!

Do not nominate such a god

Who counts your fasts and prayers

Checks and balances your tithes and offerings

When you shout with empty stomachs

And duck your landlord’s bloodshot eyes

Whilst somebody chews biltong and toothpicks

God lets kick these gods

Bring back love and compassion

Torch fear and hatred not foreigners

Gather truth and welcome one another

Not stones to pelt ourselves

Stop god from robbing the poor

And then might we succeed

In kicking these gods faraway with our toes!

© 2010 Mike Mware

We just heard the drum again

Echoing and beckoning

Through that humid evening

When the crows had started to yowl

And the reticent sun hid behind the mountains

We heard the soft palms of a novice

And we knew it was that drum again

We whispered and peeked through our small fences

Was it Old Man Makura?

Could it be the blood-coughing teenager near the Shops?

Slowly we downed our worries

Forgetting our wobbly spines

We threw and shoved our chores

Enticed again by that bawling drum 

As darkness shrouded our homes

Different palms took the slack cow-hide

We gathered our friends and marched on

The blinking fire welcomed us 

We approached their cries with our cries

As we extended our palms to all

Except those which thumped the drum

Around the fire we laughed and chatted

Old faces we met and new ones we respected

Mugs leaked their contents down our thirsty throats

As we talked soccer, the rallies and those abroad

In the house the preachers chanted hope

Choirs invoked God and mercy

Some cried their hearts and quizzed God

They heated the drum and we waited

The palms arrived and they took their hide

Hearts yearning we raised our heads

The young women started a song we knew

The drummer obliged and his drum spoke

It spoke that night in our township

Spoke of fear, love and scarce dollars

It bommed audibles of hope and fate

We sang and danced  chanted together with it

We shook our heads and tears came to our heavy eyes

Women consoled and provoked streams of tears

Men sniffed dry their tears and gobbled back pain

Others blinked salt in the shadows

We heard the song of his life

How he ranted slogans and threats

How he preached the gospel of patriotism

Now listening in  truth of silence

Entangled with thick cords of fate and their lies 

We cheated our own tears of fear and pity

Quickly swigged truth with more social mugs

But the drum said it all

When the day after tomorrow

We shall shovel him into his clay nest

Cloaked in our ensign and graveside praises

Round his thin cold bones and numb palms

Those that perambulated and petrified our streets

We march back to our homes

And take up our worries

Till that day before they beat us

when the drum beats again

Speaking the life of one of us

Could be my drum

Could be yours

We all await for that drum and mug!

© 2010 Mike Mware

Let the people speak! 

This is to all of you

Who whacked us and all

For blazing seeds and their weeds

When you clouted our sisters’ bottoms

Winked at each other in staff rooms

We saw you!

Let the people speak!

Those who gave us hoes and shovels

But claps and strokes

When we asked for the fruits of our sweat

This is to those

Who baton-stick our backs

When we armed ourselves with placards

But later queued with us for bread and sugar

Let the people speak!

This is to you heart warmers

Those who made our hearts dance with hope

But leaped from the pulpit

To mount our beds with our wives and daughters!

Before cutting holes through our pockets!

Let the people  speak!

Those who charmed us with clubs and knifes

Drugged us with chicanery and stolen chicken

But let us drown into sewage

Plunge us into darkness

When your generators drone the nights away

Let the people speak!

This is to those who fasted with us

Ran the streets and stepped on their rods

Those who intoned our songs in the stadiums

But munch away the sweet pie

We scramble for the crumbs

While we run the same streets and step on your rods

While you hush our songs

This is to you all!

 Let the people speak now!

 © 2010 Mike Mware

He staggers into the carriage

Tugged by the little sweaty palm

Smeared by the many weary eyes

Leans against a rail like a weary man

Swings his keyboard from his back and grins

His fingers fiddle and he clears his dry throat

The train chatters and hiccups on

The young girl released from his grip

Attacks the carriage with her jingling coffee mug

He hits his chords and fills the air with a holy song

They chew bubble gums and read their newspapers

They turn on their Mp3s and gaze into nothingness

Some harness few coins and aim for the coffee mug

My heart beats as I listen to the song

Foam gathers at the ends of his mouth

And he blurts verses of mercy and hope

Love and peace in a far off land I know

His thin fingers dash hop and dodge between the keys

They nod their heads but none look at his face

The little girl’s eyes gnaws into my heart

I remember my daughter at home

I surrender 20 rands and my heart

From the next carriage I hear a preacher

The train screams and jerks to a stop

She retreats back to where she left him

I want him to sing again melodies of home faraway

She tugs him into the next carriage and my heart too

The preacher now strides into our carriage

I look outside at the impending Table Mountain

The shorter dazzling buildings of Cape Town

The preacher shouts something and slaps an old bible

I listen to the blind man from the next carriage

 A man next to me snores loudly unintimidated

The train thrusts forward and I close my eyes!

Oh my heart!

Oh our people!

 © 2010 Mike Mware

Mother and father

Weep not for me

When I am dead

Dead from this battle

A battle not of guns and napalm bombs

Though bullets shall glide round my head

And switchblades await me in the alleys

I am going there!

Dragging an empty stomach through this fence

Through the thickets where lions roam at dusk

Where their patrol cars roar at dawn

Running, crawling, hiding, hoping

I look back no more

I am going!

Mother and Father understand me

Forget the books and slogans!

I shall eat from the brows of sticky sweat

Trot and dash in circles with aprons and cockscrews

Dig trenches and erect buildings

Lurk and scamper the streets

I shall wipe my sweat and tears

Click and lick my chapped lips and pray

I am going!

Yes I am going Mother and Father

Into the land teeming with promises and sweat 

Where chicken and chips is KFC

Where they have many x-tra large jeans for all

I am going!

Crawling over death under the hovering vultures

Weep not for me Mother and Father

Ancestors guide me for I am going

One day to return home

 © 2010 Mike Mware