jungle

2:18pmSam

so let us begin the poem that started in the murder capital and journey to the land where they have names like Nyoni... Zodwa... names like coffee, quaco, cudjoe....
let this poem awaken the poetic lighthouses along the coasts of the minds that have waited for this revolution longer than material wealth or gain, for they all knew that everything would come after the media changed its message, after they manufacture methods of mass peace, instead of destruction, the recipe is wrong.. too many cooks in the pot... must spoil the taste.... so slow me down...

2:25pmZodwa

slow me down, take my naked hands and dip them in words, read them and place them to face the glare of the sun and ask them to speak of what they have been waiting for? They will murmur change, I have been waiting for the day we would testify what have we done with our hands and we will reply we have written..spoken with our fingers and waited for the morning to come so we could raise our suns/sons

2:34pmSam

moons cry that they cannot hold the reins of the sun chariot back any longer
the riot of orange on water
the stampede of waking
people gather outside their homes to categorise office space as distinct from residential
while the jungle breathes in my chest
sitting west, facing the source of my office managers doom
while
the newly discovered mangabey swings from an old tree

2:43pmZodwa

dangling purple jacaranda leaves across its face, they glare from their office blocks welcoming routine, while the mangabey welcomes spring.The moon releases the reins the orange bright light sprints across the tropical savanna earth.