To document
To document.
To document.
To learn how to fight.
How to fight?
To learn how to fight without burning our homes,
How not to burn ourselves?
To fight for breath,
To Fight!!!
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Monday, 13 June 2016
Medium rare
When I say I love you,
You think of something big
Dont you know that I can fit these words
In the gab between my teeth?
Because my love is air that you find in the bubbles of your champaign,
One drink down and I am no more,
One drink down and I am flirting with the bartender
another drink down, I am riding in a cab explaining to the driver
that this was my first drink.
You think of something big
Dont you know that I can fit these words
In the gab between my teeth?
Because my love is air that you find in the bubbles of your champaign,
One drink down and I am no more,
One drink down and I am flirting with the bartender
another drink down, I am riding in a cab explaining to the driver
that this was my first drink.
I tell him I loved a man for 6 months
and for the first time
I learned that he keeps all of his love in his wallet,
flashes a hundred rand note for my smile;
He wants to buy me something
I already sold to myself for free.
When I finally get home,
My mother will confuse the smell of alcohol in my mouth
for kisses
because some times men smell like hangover.
I tell her no man has touched me,
that I dissappear when love calls my name,
it feels like death, throwing yourself at a shadow that has no face.
She will show me the seeds in the growing grims of her nails,
crystal stones that she collected from the sweat of men.
Next to the tomatoe garden in our backyard,
My mama is growing men,
she is growing a son,
she is growing the man my father should be when he returns.
We have adam's apples for breakfast, lunch, and supper
and from each meal we get a rib,
to build a broken woman back up.
and for the first time
I learned that he keeps all of his love in his wallet,
flashes a hundred rand note for my smile;
He wants to buy me something
I already sold to myself for free.
When I finally get home,
My mother will confuse the smell of alcohol in my mouth
for kisses
because some times men smell like hangover.
I tell her no man has touched me,
that I dissappear when love calls my name,
it feels like death, throwing yourself at a shadow that has no face.
She will show me the seeds in the growing grims of her nails,
crystal stones that she collected from the sweat of men.
Next to the tomatoe garden in our backyard,
My mama is growing men,
she is growing a son,
she is growing the man my father should be when he returns.
We have adam's apples for breakfast, lunch, and supper
and from each meal we get a rib,
to build a broken woman back up.
Tuesday, 10 May 2016
Houses
When the police come to arrest him
tell them to put handcuffs on the door.
This house is a culprit, constantly watching us bleed without moving.
tell them to put handcuffs on the door.
This house is a culprit, constantly watching us bleed without moving.
The first time he turned beast, the walls collapsed our screams
into a song
and the neighbours thought we were dancing to a sharp melody.
This house will watch us get killed and say nothing.
The walls will wear our blood like paint,
Our DNA washes off into colour.
It is a ring in here, with only one boxing champion who gets to pick a fight.
Constantly we kiss the kitchen tiles,
Slowly rise to our knees,
Leave our blood mopping the floor.
We are learning prayer
With the celling slapping our words back to our tongues, There is a kind of heaven that we will never reach;
Where men don’t exist to molest women,
Where houses are not ghosts forcing a painful memory into our thoughts,
Where fathers love their daughters.
and the neighbours thought we were dancing to a sharp melody.
This house will watch us get killed and say nothing.
The walls will wear our blood like paint,
Our DNA washes off into colour.
It is a ring in here, with only one boxing champion who gets to pick a fight.
Constantly we kiss the kitchen tiles,
Slowly rise to our knees,
Leave our blood mopping the floor.
We are learning prayer
With the celling slapping our words back to our tongues, There is a kind of heaven that we will never reach;
Where men don’t exist to molest women,
Where houses are not ghosts forcing a painful memory into our thoughts,
Where fathers love their daughters.
This house will let us die,
The tiles will shallow our skeletons,
This house wants to be a graveyard.
There are sessions of memorial service in each bedroom
Old obituaries hanging like curtains,
Each morning, windows open to wave life goodbye.
Those who came before never won this war.
This house wants to be a graveyard.
There are sessions of memorial service in each bedroom
Old obituaries hanging like curtains,
Each morning, windows open to wave life goodbye.
Those who came before never won this war.
And those who came before were us,
We’ve been dying here each night.
But today police are coming
If we are dead when they come,
Tell them to take this house with him to a prison cell,
Because it got comfortable in watching us bleed.
We’ve been dying here each night.
But today police are coming
If we are dead when they come,
Tell them to take this house with him to a prison cell,
Because it got comfortable in watching us bleed.
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