Tongues of Prophesy

When I speak I speak in tongues, but not tongues of prophecy but tongues of blamesphy
Even then I do not speak in my mother tongue but the tongue of those that are my oppressors
For my mother tongue they have come to term a sinful language
So you see I am not a product of nature or that of my mother
But I am a by-product of these sinful oppressions
So I embrace their sinful oppression with pride knowing that my pride is all I have

I am a child of AFRICA so when I speak with my elders I look down as a sign of respect
I bite my nails I write wordless words on the floor just to avoid their eyes
But they came from the west and told me that my respect was a sign of cowardice
That my gestures of respect told them that I am lying...
So which do I embrace... their teaching or my culture
For when I speak I speak in tongues but not tongues of prophecy but tongues blamesphy
Even then I do not speak in my mother tongue but the tongue of those that are my oppressors
For my mother tongue they have come to term a sinful language
And since I fear eternal condemnation I embrace their language with pride and I forget my oppression
So you see I am not a product of nature or that of my mother but I am a by-product of these sinful oppressions

umlomo ishoba lokuziphungela so I use this sword of words
Until they complement me on my culture blinding me with their smiles to the jokes they share
They say my words are pregnant with hope and they will feed me one day
They promise to take me international for my words represent me
My words are full of the respect that they condemn; they are full of my culture
But how can they if they are not the words that my mother fed me
How can they if they are written in a foreign language
ulimi engingaluncelanga kumama
But still I speak in tongues in the tongues of those that are my oppressors
Praying that their language which is sinfully oppressing me will yield to the words that produced

When I speak I speak in tongues, but not tongues of prophecy but tongues of blamesphy
Even then I do not speak in my mother tongue but the tongue of those that are my oppressors
For my mother tongue they have come to term a sinful language
So you see I am not a product of nature or that of my mother
But I am a by-product of these sinful oppressions
So I embrace they sinful oppression with pride knowing that my pride is all I have

I’m stuck between my culture and civilization I have to choose between my roots and the fruits I produced
But these fruits are results of thee roots and these roots were made for these fruits …
So which do I choose do I enjoy these pleasures of my labour and forget about who I am or do I stick to me and waste the fruits of my hard labour
I am but am no longer

By Thembeka Madondo

The Final Tear

This very second passes his
penniless cheeks, he grins;
The salty waters erodes his
unintimidated cheeks, he forecasts;
An immediate interconnection merges
amid his heart and his thoughts.
The quandary lurches from
one disaster to another.

This very micro-second he sees
the lands of his sorrows.
He’s a passenger in this train
on it departure to nowhere.
He’s a patron in this fruitless
journey,
“I’ll fly above them all”, he persists.

The permanent river of tears has filled the
assigned bucket on his forth, he’s
a tears veteran.
“Here comes, I can see…” he fails to grab.
His swelling heart is on the verge of
losing it endurance.

One night, one day passes.
One second, one minute passes.
He cries the ocean.

It was the final tear.
This very second he laughs until
the jaw at the edge of his mouth is exhibited.
The bypassers speculate, now they seek.
Because it was the final tear.

Misunderstanding to understand

Now I can …

Now I can see why my family members label my character as stubborn, confusing and different. From WHO? I do not concur with their statement.
For a simple reason:
I am what I am, so what?

My parents say I’m different from other kids because I do not play with them, including my eight brothers. What ‘different’?
The answer is simple: I’m unique. Why do I have to do what is done by others?
In many instances I do whatever I am doing ensuring that the two pieces of skin underneath my nose are tightly attached.
“Aubrey why are you always… quiet … cagey … that’s stupid? Eh? My mother once asked.
Guess what? I shake my head! She receives no response and her legs lead her to where she entered. She goes out.
… I was staring at my books; that was the answer for that moment.
I was not deaf I was just unintentionally ignoring her. She will get the answer when I have reached the majority age … and finished school.

The next afternoon after I come from school I go to the river down the hills to wash my school for the next day. And then?
I return before twilight. I hang my clothes, take my books and return to school.
To study … alone.
Because they will be noisy on the two huts we had at home.
I meet her at the yard washing my little brother’s clothes. “Aubrey”, she calls. “I left your meal underneath the pot.” I shook my head and casted a glance of ‘you’ll get the answer at the end of the year’ at her forehead.
“Where are you going to … at this time?” she asked bully. I pushed forward as if I’ve not heard like a phone that is failing to connect the network.

I had to travel a long distance before I reached school. Down the hill on the shortcut pathway that travels between the forests I met four of my brothers. They were smoking dried leaves. They saw me and … the old one gazed my footsteps.
“Where are you goin’ to? You are always serious; you’ll never runaway from mediocrity brother”.
This time I did not have to wait for the end of the year to answer my mischievous brother(s).
“I’m going forward”, I said. “You are goin’ backwards … no future”

Then I proceeded with the journey … until now … I’m still traveling it. But now I’m traveling the tar.
Now I can see the future.
That year I passed matric on merit and I told my mother “Ma it been my dream to finish school and study at the university, that the answer to all you have asked”
All my brothers and the all who saw me a fool, even the elder, are still at school and some have abandoned it, now they are the mediocre while I’m pursuing my LLB degree at the university.

Now they understand why they failed to understand why I cannot be understood at first.

poems

My child
The minute we synthesised your soul.
It was an assortment of amused thoughts
Anticipated joy prior you smiled barely teeths.
Enthusiasm of the world to approach.
My child, my suprise

Comprehend my speech, please,
You're one and only.
Never, ever breach our said vows
Today, tomorrow and forever.
My child ... take ... care

never, ever listen at them
i'm the one who borne you
your single drop of tear form a
permanent stream on my heart pores
indelible
my child your smile amuse my smile

shh, don't cry, don't
hear, my affordable words
unbreach no alphabet of them
love me then i love you
my child, listen, please do

listen ... at ... me... now and ... forever
before ... my last ... gasp ... kicks ...me
... good ... ni ...ght ...
...fo...re...ver... goodbye

Anyone please tell me to...

Anyone please tell me
Please what I've done to be...
like me?
Whoever knows the truth must tell me
Why am I like me?
Tell me

You say life is a blessing
but mine is a temptation
You say life is worth a living
but mine is worth death
Anyone, please, ... tell me
Why am I dissimilar from?

Tell me ... what is love?
Tell me ... what is being caressed?
Is there God?
Ask me what I prefer
between life and death?
I opt the latter

There's no me
I am worthless and penniless

I the creator of the created
I tasted love and life
I betrayed them all
Ask me, why am I cryin'?
Anyone please tell me
to wake up because
sleep is the cousin of death

According to my Mind

According to my Mind

Freedom
The discriminatory barrier has fallen.
Innocent prisoners have been released.
The one from the bondage has
been given wings to fly.
The nation sings the same anthem,
where words become unimportant.
All men can climb the ladder,
All men can dwell
But the birds has loosen their natural wings,
Artificial ones inserted.
Black cats grow white beard.
Book covers are externally white,
internally black.
Today culminates to worse, tomorrow disasters.

This poem portrays that the past is gone and that there is little left on it; we cheer freedom and the notion of democracy.

Microphone
take the microphone and speak
never hesitate, utter the truth
never leave any stone unturned
but do not tell them i’ve sent you

the microphone reaches all ears
acquaint the baboon and the jackal
tell the antelopes and the hares
and don’t forget to say a word to human beings
otherwise you have not said anything at all

take the microphone and utter
to the trees and stones
to the walls and barriers
confront that ant in your toes
and that snake underneath your pillow

Tell them, one by one, that the world is not fair
It is driven by sorrow and grin
All is anguished;
Everything, all, is a tragedy.

She’s mine
don’t you dare touch her
don’t you ever speak to her
don’t gaze at her face
don’t peep at what she’s wearing underneath
because she’s mine

all of her is mine
that complexion is mine
those thighs are mine
the hips and lips too
they are all mine

she doesn’t know anything
EXCEPT me
i’m the one and only who touches
who kiss who talks to her
in a romantic manner
because she’s mine

I don’t want nobody
to meddle on our affairs
she shares the same with me
I know her moves
I know her cries
Because she’s mine

But I have been deluding my-self.
That body is for her.
That body was created by the Almighty.
She knows them
She’s not mine, ever since.

She deceives me she’s mine.
We touch, caress and do with her.
We share the same with her.
We know she.
She’s everybody.

Really, she’s not mine at all.
I have thought, and announced so.
I have dedicated my life at her.
I have lent her all.
And, they have given her noting’
She’s ours.

She says she’s mine
And, too, I assert she’s mine

She’s mine but not mine.

It was nice
It was nice.
The sky was blue.
The flowers blossomed.
An illicit honeymoon was faithful.
Love was fool and full.
Son and daughter had met
in a rendezvous spot, where no being peeped
Two of them had met to
Convene.

The conference was, yeah, an accomplishment

Now there are three of them.
The third has inserted rage to the son.
Now the son has no interference.
He’s disappeared where the two
cannot glance.

No honeymoon, no conference
The love is now fool alone
It was nice, yeah,
It was nice, for then

Listen
Listen.
I’m destined for you.

Forget about the automobile,
The dollars and euros and pounds.
And the body coverings.

Listen.
I’m destined for you.

God is my witness,
I don’t weakness.
I’m ain’t heartless.
You’ll never depress
My lips are a spectator of togetherness

Listen.
I’m destined for you.

Yearn, don’t hesitate.
Emancipate from the detainee.
My arms are heaven and paradise.
Pave those thorns, Mess with me.
Walk out, please, before
It’s too late.
Before it is finished on me.

Believe, yes, Believe.
You are destined for me.


The final tear
This very second passes his
penniless cheeks, he grins;
The salty waters erodes his
unintimidated cheeks, he forecasts;
An immediate interconnection merges
amid his heart and his thoughts.
The quandary lurches from
one disaster to another.

This very micro-second he sees
the lands of his sorrows.
He’s a passenger in this train
on it departure to nowhere.
He’s a patron in this fruitless
journey,
“I’ll fly above them all”, he persists.

The permanent river of tears has filled the
assigned bucket on his forth, he’s
a tears veteran.
“Here comes, I can see…” he fails to grab.
His swelling heart is on the verge of
losing it endurance.

One night, one day passes.
One second, one minute passes.
He cries the ocean.

It was the final tear.
This very second he laughs until
the jaw at the edge of his mouth is exhibited.
The bypassers speculate, now they seek.
Because it was the final tear.

You have wings to fly
I have lifted you from zero, to hero.
From nothing, to something.
From nobody, to somebody.
From nowhere, to somewhere.

I have held the ladder for you
In a slippery surface
For you to climb up.
I have fallen and arose
To make you see the bright.

I have dug you from inhumane clauses.
From a dusty floor.
From an impoverished rank.
From a quarters with no light.

I have bought you a rose
And love from my heart.
Heaven and hooting house
This, and those and that,
And you know it.

Now I’m zero tasting a non-hero creator
The flower I’ve grown and watered
Fabricates expired, filthy fruits
Against me.

Then, I am nothing, nobody and nowhere
in your inner body.
Then, you are walking tall.
But do not forget, never, forget
That you have wings to fly because
of me.