Ndeipanda Aindongo Poems

Find I. Buried in heaps of Gore
beneath once revered allegorical lore.
pull I. out of destitute wells, with pulleys of sinews
the length of which is the price for your serenity.
...

At dusk the Horizon turns fiery iridescent brown,
a wonder to behold but scarier than Deimos' frown.
It is rare to find fear intermingling with Beauty
but daily, the dawning of night presents it as our reality.
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One could liken a neighbors heart to a landlocked island.
paradoxically,
Loving yet orchestrating evil the same instant.
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Life is a Humanitarian Journey
not give, is to not live.
Tempestuous as it may be,
there lie ahead yet bigger storms to see.
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I do not write so you can dub me the pied piper,
I do not intend to be more cryptic that a shift cipher,
Neither do i write in attendance of those hungering for buffoonery.
I WRITE, so cataracts can fall from every third eye till it sees clearly.
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A pessimist mayest life describe
as a continuance of prisons;
its many troubles and woes ascribe,
Without much proof or reason,
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Bright walls in dark rooms,
Bright… walls in dark, wait
Bright walls in dark rooms?
Bright walls in dark rooms are like,
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A mum castrato,
A song-less virtuoso
he has neither the balls to do it
nor the grit to erect it.
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I awoke with a burning desire to give life,
to birth into the world a treasure.
An incarnation of my will to keep growing,
To defy the norm of living for the here and now.
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How to be, without being beside my being.
to bond without my individuality, losing.
Depending and not independence waiving
and perhaps through self-actualization,
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