Still births, witches and wizards
Unforgiven sins and disease
Infested bodies stray snakes and stolen court evidence
uncountable matchsticks and more than many barrels of flammable juices
Victims of political violence, thugs and victims of the AIDS epidemic
Voluntary life terminations, rotten corpses of soldiers who fought in borrowed wars
Blood stained garments from manufactured road accidents
And soul eating images of long gone lineage members
All in the funeral Palour
Once i saw a live human corpse and mourners screaming for their dear lives
The corpse was pinned down before being taken to the crematorium
Where his body was burnt to ashes reminiscent of the pastor's 'ashes to ashes'
My shoulders became heavy with life's meaningless meaning
Evil daughter beggot a bustard son
In no time the body was in the palour
As if the palour would prophesy about the whereabouts of the boy's father
Does a crippled boy understand the pleasures of a jumping castle?
Does a coffin purify or unlify life' violence?
The mystery of life and death lies between the two giants so says the undertaker
Afterwards he giggles blissfully like he has just discovered the great secret behind mortality
By General S.R Mpofu
(Freelance Journalist, Human Rights Activist and Advocate for Political and Social Justice in Zimbabwe)
www.sheuregie.blogspot.com)
Except where otherwise specifically indicated, the opinions expressed on this blog are my own, are sometimes highly speculative in nature and subject to differing interpretations and do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of organizations that i work for or any other organizations that i am associated with or individuals that i know...
Saturday, June 16, 2012
THE MONSTER IS ON THE RUN!
His eyes are wide shut
His sight has been robbed by pleasure
Pleasure that is not pleasurable at all
To the little she figure veneered by the monster's seasoned body
Its all pain in the gains
Her vagina is torn apart too
There are few droplets of blood on the crime scene
The sandy soils of West Park Cemetery have sucked much of the precious liquid...
Its 630pm and only me and those resting underneath the earth witness this hair raising one-sided jewel
In the end the Devil's son zipped up his pants and left
I gave thanks to the almighty and the thick savanna bush for not exposing me to the dragon
I crossed Mpilo road - the road that passes through the cemetery to embrace my derailed sister
Together we wept till the heavens withdrew their light
Too bad she was deflowered....
By General S.R Mpofu
(Freelance Journalist, Human Rights Activist and Advocate for Political and Social Justice in Zimbabwe)
www.sheuregie.blogspot.com)
His sight has been robbed by pleasure
Pleasure that is not pleasurable at all
To the little she figure veneered by the monster's seasoned body
Its all pain in the gains
Her vagina is torn apart too
There are few droplets of blood on the crime scene
The sandy soils of West Park Cemetery have sucked much of the precious liquid...
Its 630pm and only me and those resting underneath the earth witness this hair raising one-sided jewel
In the end the Devil's son zipped up his pants and left
I gave thanks to the almighty and the thick savanna bush for not exposing me to the dragon
I crossed Mpilo road - the road that passes through the cemetery to embrace my derailed sister
Together we wept till the heavens withdrew their light
Too bad she was deflowered....
By General S.R Mpofu
(Freelance Journalist, Human Rights Activist and Advocate for Political and Social Justice in Zimbabwe)
www.sheuregie.blogspot.com)
WHAT THEN SHALL WE DO?
I have flipped through the rough pages of life for long,
Searching for the angel happiness
Its a wild goose chase whose small paths are rocky and infested with snakes
Salty waters and bumper harvests of sorrow
Questions of character and problems of priorities
All swim in the same sewage dams
Where only bewitched fish are caught
The mornings are horrible like maggots on a six day unclaimed corpse
Spout allover delivering sweet aromas of sadness
That signal Satan's successful days at work
Grounded grannies gaze and glide with gatholic giggles
But with no guts to gun down imaginary goblins gnawing their lives at the old people's home
Terrified teenagers take turns to take tranquilizers
To tone down tantalizing moments of torment
In their torrid, tedious and tempestuous lives
Elephant sized businessmen struggle to touch their toes
As their protruding bellies stage demonstrations against flexibility
Its a selfish world and only the selfish shall prosper....
By General S.R Mpofu
(Freelance Journalist, Human Rights Activist and Advocate for Political and Social Justice in Zimbabwe)
www.sheuregie.blogspot.com)
Searching for the angel happiness
Its a wild goose chase whose small paths are rocky and infested with snakes
Salty waters and bumper harvests of sorrow
Questions of character and problems of priorities
All swim in the same sewage dams
Where only bewitched fish are caught
The mornings are horrible like maggots on a six day unclaimed corpse
Spout allover delivering sweet aromas of sadness
That signal Satan's successful days at work
Grounded grannies gaze and glide with gatholic giggles
But with no guts to gun down imaginary goblins gnawing their lives at the old people's home
Terrified teenagers take turns to take tranquilizers
To tone down tantalizing moments of torment
In their torrid, tedious and tempestuous lives
Elephant sized businessmen struggle to touch their toes
As their protruding bellies stage demonstrations against flexibility
Its a selfish world and only the selfish shall prosper....
By General S.R Mpofu
(Freelance Journalist, Human Rights Activist and Advocate for Political and Social Justice in Zimbabwe)
www.sheuregie.blogspot.com)
JAUNDA LAZARUS MHLANGA: THE UNSUNG HERO
I am finding it difficult to understand the central paradox to the
death of my grand father JLB Mhlanga who died at the hands of the dogs
of war. Why he died before witnessing the dawn of a new era in
Zimbabwean politics is a fundamental question which begs for an answer.
To understand that, one would need to look at how he lived, only then
one will discover a life that eerily echoed the fortunes of this
country. It is difficult to understand why this man who had so much to
live for had to die. My grandpa's death left a big hole not only in my
life but in the lives of the Bankwe people as well.
I was doing my Lowe Six when fateful phone call from a relative came, informing me that my grandpa had died at Mnene Hospital, in Belingwe. I couldn't believe the news and immediately proceeded to the bus-stop to look for transport to Matabo where my grandpa was going to be laid to rest. A lot of questions wrecked havoc in my mind and then i was too yound to question such things and i therefore left everything to the elders. It was beyond any reasonable doubt that politics had dealt a cruel and final blow to a man who had lived a life that made him a fundi in so many areas, and yet remained the epitomy of humility. It all began when my grandpa was seeking re-election as the Council Chairman of Mberengwa Rural District Council against Ben Mataga. Mataga couldnot stomach the idea of contesting against a well-known and competent Mhlanga and at one point swore that Mhlanga wouldn't see the next day if he challenged him in the election.
At the time of his death Mr. Mhlanga was already in a state of acute distress, walking with great difficulty and emotionally fragile. Death was starring at him in the face and everything he tried to fend it off had failed. What has struck me about my grandfather's death is the deafening silence about its cause. I know and rightly so that he was swept away by the murky waters of politics... I have no kind words for ZANU PF for taking away such an enterprising life.
Mr. Mhlanga's death triggered a host of worries and fears in me. I felt helpless and insecure. His death triggered the fear of me having to face life without him. He was my source of inspiration, my advisor and above all my mentor.
ZANU PF owes a debt to my grandpa that they cannot ever fully repay. I will always honour his sacrifice for the betterment of our lives as a family and for the betterment of Zimbabwe. All i have to do is to honor it in my own life by holding the memories close to my heart, and heeding the example he set.
Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement.
I will not try it... Time is the only comforter for the loss of my grandpa. Rest in eternal Peace Mr. Mhlanga!!!
I was doing my Lowe Six when fateful phone call from a relative came, informing me that my grandpa had died at Mnene Hospital, in Belingwe. I couldn't believe the news and immediately proceeded to the bus-stop to look for transport to Matabo where my grandpa was going to be laid to rest. A lot of questions wrecked havoc in my mind and then i was too yound to question such things and i therefore left everything to the elders. It was beyond any reasonable doubt that politics had dealt a cruel and final blow to a man who had lived a life that made him a fundi in so many areas, and yet remained the epitomy of humility. It all began when my grandpa was seeking re-election as the Council Chairman of Mberengwa Rural District Council against Ben Mataga. Mataga couldnot stomach the idea of contesting against a well-known and competent Mhlanga and at one point swore that Mhlanga wouldn't see the next day if he challenged him in the election.
At the time of his death Mr. Mhlanga was already in a state of acute distress, walking with great difficulty and emotionally fragile. Death was starring at him in the face and everything he tried to fend it off had failed. What has struck me about my grandfather's death is the deafening silence about its cause. I know and rightly so that he was swept away by the murky waters of politics... I have no kind words for ZANU PF for taking away such an enterprising life.
Mr. Mhlanga's death triggered a host of worries and fears in me. I felt helpless and insecure. His death triggered the fear of me having to face life without him. He was my source of inspiration, my advisor and above all my mentor.
ZANU PF owes a debt to my grandpa that they cannot ever fully repay. I will always honour his sacrifice for the betterment of our lives as a family and for the betterment of Zimbabwe. All i have to do is to honor it in my own life by holding the memories close to my heart, and heeding the example he set.
Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement.
I will not try it... Time is the only comforter for the loss of my grandpa. Rest in eternal Peace Mr. Mhlanga!!!
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