THE SALIVA BLOOD TEARS

Sunday 19 October, 2014 Start: 11:00 The Saliva Blood Tears My tears have disappeared… and they do clap hands for me! My saliva dances through my mouth and they marvel in admiration of my life! My inner self bleeds thunderously…but I can still put a smile on my face! Who would want to hear myself…I do not have anyone to ask. Who is there with a cool hand to comfort my heart beat… A question I would wish to ask myself, but the fear of more heat lashes silences my curiosity. My curiosity…the pavement to my heart desire, a dream reckoned a mystery. I wonder how people value themselves… Is it from the voices of the ear From the voices of the heart? From the creations of the mind? Or just an element of surprise… Every day… they wake up! What would you do if you are painted stupid from your intelligence? Or when you are labelled intelligent from your stupidity? How would you call your tomorrow to come and comfort your today? How would you call your yesterday to shape your today’s words? Or even to sit down with your today…for a cup of coffee? Ooooh, hahaha yes a cup of coffee! I used to see a giant…but I am now seeing a small mouse under a table. I used to hear sweet words from the latest words factory…but now I only hear words that can turn your clothes into tartars… What happened to the golden smile…full of a beautiful scent from the honey bee fresh flowers? What happened to the visionary who would interpret visions? I guess I lost my angel! Please come my dear friend…please come I did not mean to be mean! But… I thought the beautiful road continues to unfold itself. The mystery of destiny…the experience of life unfolding its colours. Please hold my hand my angel…I do not want to drown in these painful swamps… Please hold my hand my angel and strengthen my heart and heal me from these wounds. I have never been a fighter…because I grew up after the fight! I didn’t expect defeats in these wars because I am born of a soldier. Isn’t a son of a soldier a soldier? Then why do I have to fight everyday…for my survival? Why am I in this jungle of furious wars of survival? Why do I struggle to breathe whenever I want to express myself? Why do I get choked from a soft voice? These fights are not mine… please take your fights and fight yourself. Is this kind of a school or prison? Is this a prison school? Or it is actually a prison in school? Why would I be in a prison, if I came to school to learn? Or why should I learn if I am in a prison? They say he was imprisoned and he became the King. They say they were imprisoned and they became Masters. Which syllabus is this my pen? How come I didn’t receive the course textbooks? Was I absent on that day? ...Yes, it is funny! Am I not the first small white stool in a bookshop? Am I not the first cottage that was built on the corner stand? Am I not the farm that got rescued from the scavengers of opportunities? The left foot that stepped first on top of that mountain? Who could be there to witness it all? My angel…talk to me… Talk to me my angel and help me to see the light… I now admit that I silently cry…during the day And I loudly cry in the night times! The tears…those tears of confusion The tears…those tears of fear of the future The tears…and those tears of a heart torn apart The tears… those tears of a mouth muted The tears…and those tears from dark illusions! Who would dare to listen to you? What if you are better than before? What if you are better than the next? What if you are better than tomorrow? So can I stop to cry because I am better? Do we live a life of comparison and averageness? Does the pattern have to follow a pattern? Or it can jump high like a progressive graph? That is what I believe… That we were born to be better day by day… Until we reach the perfection of the last day! I think I threw everything that I had in bunt trash… What is it that I left myself with? What is it? Unto the power of the pen… I will raise my voice Unto my faith…I will give birth again Unto my hope…I will dream again Unto my prophesy…I will declare again! That I am born from the skin of truth That I am born from the words of power That I am born from the breath of oracles And that I am born from the Kingdom of grace and mercy! I do not believe in the evil spirits, because I believe in the greater force I do not believe in fights, because mine were won long ago I do not believe in failure, because before my existence I conquered And birth is my majestic evidence! I will live…because I lived! I will win…because I won! I will love…because I was loved! And I will direct…because I live in a given direction! The gift of giving…once given, twice you give. Once the child doesn’t cry, the more the mother cries Once the heart doesn’t speak, the more the hand speaks Once the eye doesn’t see, the more the brains see And once the brain doesn’t think, the more the actions think! One would say “A cry from abundance of ignorance” One would say “mixed truth unfolds” But from saliva blood tears- I set my self-free! Free like a bird I will continue to fly… Until the day of the nest! From my rest to my nest I rest, and from my nest I rest until I nest. End: 00:10 By VaChikepe: The Poet seremumu@gmail.com (+263) 0772 488 777 @Publishar Publisher T.P Chikepe (Reporting from Katanga Norton, Zimbabwe-Africa)