A Legacy of Excellence

Here, have a drink

Let me give you Alcohol's Ode

*****CLEARING THROAT****

Alcohol:

A social lubricant;

A legacy of excellence!!!

An old anti-dote;

To society’s dissimilarities…

Unity through Vodka?

Thank the Russians!

We have become one brand

Through glasses of brandy,

Gullibly amalgamated,

Over a tot of whisky.

Gossip forgotten,

Three ciders later

And finally,

A bond created over a mug of beer!!!

From kegs to calabashes

Dissimilarities celebrated

Friction squashed

Myths quashed

Clear or opaque

Beer celebrates differences

And does not question your DNA make

Smooth or thick

Ciders can make the shy to speak

Aperitifs’ can sit you down for a lesson to teach

Original or fake

Wine accommodates all, of all skins it takes

Matured or dry

Sherry tells no lies

Cool down your spirits

Let me hand you a spirit cooler

Yes,

Alcohol;

A social lubricant

Is indeed a legacy of excellence!!!

House of Stone

The House of stone - 

A conical tower;

Standing more than a thousand stones tall.

Royal works expressing native majesty

No foreign dilutions in the creation of this dome.

Towers iconically standing in the shape of a cone.

Fort Victoria: built on a fortress

Poised for warriors victory!

Fifteenth century Mutapa;
The Rozvi

Laying in granites layers - builders of stone talking an untold story

Of Great Zimbabwe's glory

When the fortress crumbled, blood was spilled and it became untold gory

Tribes that went on to reside

Shielded their integrity using cow hides

Kings, Princes ruling over multitudes of lives

In the age of Iron

A time when a royal fist was best fit by this palace

A nation,

Held together

Cohesion?

Standing tall...No mortar!

Dzimba dza Mabwe -
House whose foundations tremble with granite

Ancient civilisation

An Iron-smith's ingenuity.

The Africa's pay tribute:

Ode to this formidable repository of our cultural heritage!

The writer is wise (Earnestly)

The kingdom of Zimbabwe, immortalized by eight birds

That flew away in cages to lands unknown

Slowly making their way back home

Wondering if they ever will...

Slipped away like soapstones

Carved - chirps of glory

...splinter the people ordinary

- Ransacked by mercenaries.

I tried this level to reach this

Amazed of African riches

You won't believe this

Sowing seeds of gold

Such that granite steps would glow

Nyatsimba Mutota!!!

I cant believe such a great empire would fall!?

I turned away a hand that needed help...

I turned away a hand that needed help...

Stretched,

Flaccid,

Dejected,

Rejected,

Wilted;

Seeking a gesture of kindness,

Requited by a head looking away

Tilting into another direction;

Opposing were hope was looking~

No hope here:

Replaced by a shadow of its former self

A vessel filled with hopelessness, emptied hope...

That which his soul craves and hungers

The hand I turned away...

Needed help...

.

Fourteenth of Feb

So what if tomorrow is valentines day?

An extract from my script of heart breaks- all of them handwritten by Ernest...
On the floor lays shattered glass,
I threw the chocolate box out:

No,- look through the trash
The roses, a dried up bouquet at the bottom of the wall they smashed...

Even my mother said i don't need to lie, she can tell it from my face...

This young lady failed to save face
Now you try to look in my eye and see a poker- face
I'm frozen on the floor, numb-, aching even my torso lucky enough my Van Heusen Suit is'nt torn

Thats what this young lady did, she knocked me down
So now you know why they call Mackina :The Kid

So what if tomorrow is valentines day???
Thats just a decoy!!

The senior lecturer

The senior lecturer.

Class room set –up. 

A blackboard, not even black, but clean. I wiped it clean, with a duster. 

“I have used three words that people often confuse… Are you effective? Are you achieving an intended result? Live with a purpose, aim to attain solid goals, are they there?” 

The elderly lecturer paces about the front of the class. Producing children’s books that make their way round the class. He stresses a point. He stops for a huge pause, then scribbles onto the board with a piece of white chalk. The bragging begins, with a distinct sense of nostalgia and archaic illustrations painting an ideal past, one that had no flaws. 

“I am established, really I am, blah blah blah” 

Get past this, it’s all in the past, time’s passed and you can-not pass through time with this. He sums up the lecture, then classically concludes like a liberation struggle icon: 

“Stay relevant, my people perish because of the lack of knowledge”

Became a statistic

Became a statistic

He became a statistic

Over the festivities,

A death to become insignificant - got counted as a road fatality

What was a joyride became tragic

And yet the parents never knew but now they had

Funeral imminent, replacing tears of joy

Now tears of watching the coffin going down for this boy

Said he became a statistic, fatalities that the roads were seeing

Happy over the limits till one was limited

To eating from straws or having food mashed instead

A time of celebration can easily be transformed to a morning

Were the colour is black

And the gathering is mourning

And then we come back to ask what caused it

We forgot to stay alert when it mattered the most and now we hurt

Living for the moment was never flawless

Jumping all the other stages like being sick

One wrong move caused so many deaths

And to us that just became another statistic