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…
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
(+263) 0772 488 777
@Publishar
Publisher T.P Chikepe
(Reporting from Katanga Norton, Zimbabwe-Africa)
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