Fame: The Proposal Of. Poem by Thabani Khumalo

To Fame

Fame, it is still the same,
the loneliness still holds the same.
I am writing this letter in your name,
for either the object of this poetic work or the absolute worst... searching for Fame!
Though devine in its sentimental nature and quest,
the worst sometimes may be utterly deadly.
Man must quickly come to light and act mature, and read many words that are synonymous with gentleness,
for there is no adventure beyond the grave.

I'm a son to a tall and handsome brawling street fighter
whose anatomic front indeed commanded
all the popular leniency among the obscure human views -
who was son to a dilettante prince -
who also was son to the genius father in my line,
who brought the kingdom back to the big house in my home,
by bringing order back to the royal house,
because the brain of the order was coded into our bloodline -
who was also son to the popular prince of Mzilikazi Khumalo,
who was the favored King of the Ndebele Empire... Dear Fame,

I think my nightmares depict the human works of the days,
they are also beginning to appear in my sight during the day.
Can you imagine the rumors that I hear flying in the air?
A mad lizard from some secret cave of enemies
has rallied for legitimate human attention
while sitting on my thrown of elderly authority.
Except for a crook bent on stealth,
but how else can a man from a different tribe
be particularly permitted to be a king to my tribe?
Can a Xhosa boy ever rule over Zulu boys' cultural affairs?
That sort of a dirty bullish behavior
puts a charging worry into my emotional patterns... Dear Fame,

I'm a poet who is only willing by the nature of his heart,
to bring to the tongue a deeply emotional poetic masterpiece;
a classic piece that scrapes deep enough down the soul
to leave the true person with the long sought true peace of mind -
the ability to move any body out of all its detrimental worries.
Even the need of survival security
and all its exorbitant costs are too a very deep worry,
yet peace alone is dependent upon such worry coming to diminish... Dear Fame,

I should say from the bottom of my heart that,
it is an esoteric gift of mine that I use to heal the inner soul.
I have cleansed it with the deep waters of the Abyss below -
under a cloud of smoke from burning and fuming incense -
by prayer and incantation,
I invoked the names of all the kindest poets of yore,
to resurrect in legions and follow me back into the civilized world.
I will cause them to resurrect in possession of current bodies.
I will cause every body to conjure the right words towards their personality... Dear Fame,

if you will be taking this gift from my hand,
and you choose to assign it into healing the land,
I will only be satisfied with quickly accepting
the pay cheque of fully Fortunate amounts... Dear Fame.

Yours Truly

Thabani Khumalo in the flesh.