Kondwani Simwaba

COVID19
See no one knew where it all came from or how it all started,
No one knew what to do about it or to what extent it would go;
No one knew what it was;
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My Queen
I met her somewhere in the stars, between the constellations of Aries and Orion's Bow; beaming with exuberance, her smile, quite like the Crescent moon in Winter's fall; Glistening with radiance, her eyes, glittering vehemently at Summer's light pour; her heart, warmer than summer yet she remained composed her poise, cooler than ice in Winter's snow; her voice, so Angelic you'd think the heavenly choir sung at her utterance of any words; her body shaped beautifully,a galaxy of enamour she belonged in the heavens because her celestial demeanor was as inexplicable as the science of the big bang theory; but she attracted me like the Bermuda triangle and 'tis for this gravitational pull that I fell for her and she became the order to my chaos, My Queen...
#RhapsodyArts
#QueenTMC*
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WHO THEN, SHOULD DEFINE LOVE?
Almost everyone can define love based on Apostle Paul's letter to the Corinthians; but who really can say they fully fathom such a complex topic?
If I do speak for myself; then I reckon everyone is but a professional on matters of love, because love is but a proponent of time and time breeds experience and thus everyone has their own experiences.
Or could it be that which the early philosophers said to the Athenians; or that, that message still lives with us to this day except with time we've all become myopic?
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Pissing in the Air
Fifty one years since the first case of AIDS was recorded, ARV's and a self test AIDS Kit are all we've afforded; AIDS is such a concrete subject I reckon this is a major break through, because all possible cures have been regarded as somehow untrue; all cure stories have been shutdown for fear of major corporations being shutdown; they don't want me to talk about this, just look how they made Dr. Sebi kiss the ground.
Another one bites the dust, come with iron clad evidence about an AIDS cure and watch just how it all turns to rust; alas! My peers condemned me for talking about Nipsey Hussle as if it is such a hustle that I should talk about the Cyclone Idai, why! I swear I shed tears because it is such a damn tragedy what happened to those people; but what Nip inspired in me could never be simple; that's why I gotta pay my respect. That I should have talked about Xenophobia but y'all just didn't read my poems, that's why you try to put me in a box despite my claustrophobia.
I come from a country where Democracy is such a fallacy; they don't want me to talk about this because freedom of expression is an intellectual myth and even though I would like to side with the private media, I can't because they all just preach propaganda, it's all just vanity. I mean seriously, what power has my voice when even the most influential opposition get behind bars; I can only write these bars but honestly I am allergic to prison after all, who's gonna takecare of my child when I am in prison? Whoever said family holds you down, probably meant it in an Anchor context; because nobody supports nobody, it's all just a meaningless contest.
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A Poem within a Poem
What happened to the voices?
The ones that spoke to me,
Those that woke me up at midnight and;
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WHAT HAS BECOME OF US?
I never would have imagined that it could come to this; two birds of the same feathers flocking away from each other, but maybe in due season when fruit departs from tree and the sun from the day; when night falls and darkness covers the firmament; when the tree divorces the leaves and clouds are seen no more; when the poet lays down his pen and can't write anymore, because his inspiration is gone; when the artist can no longer draw any attention from his followers and the composer can't make do with his ‘heart' beat. I wonder, what then shall become of us?
It was inevitable though inexplicable, we just played dumb and it remained unspeakable. This day was coming but we both ignored the truth and comforted ourselves with that which we desired and wished for; I swear I could pen them down in art, all the things I dreamt of; all that I desired and hoped for, see! Because the same things I prayed for scratched my heart beyond bandage repair, but who am I fooling? It has been too delicate; I swear this heart has experienced more falls that the mighty Niagara itself; so to say I paid attention to this journey would be but a blatant lie, because we both know how broke I was. I just wonder, what then shall become of us?
They told me what they thought, but I rejected their counsel and when they called me fool for making ‘Tazama pipeline' dreams I just darted from them; I mean who are they to comprehend that which I feel? Who are they to question my emotions? I swear if I was a story teller, I'd tell it to my children's' children so they can understand, because as it always has been, ‘those who know not of history are doomed to repeat it! ' I know the reader wonders too, what then shall become of us?
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Dusting Dreams off my shelf
I've been thinking! Pensively about hanging up this mic; breaking the stem of my pen, so it could bleed ink one last time as I lose the ball at its nib just so it cannot point on pages anymore.
I've been thinking! Contemplating about my imminent divorce from the Arts; you see my first love and I haven't really been on speaking terms ergo our marriage has broken down irretrievably, guess I gotta go.
I've been thinking! Brooding over my Anhedonia; see I find myself at a stage in life where stages act like cages, restraining my wages; abashed by the little recognition I get from fellow sages.
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BeautIful Birthday
Beautiful skies, birthdays never tell lies,
Happiness comes from the mending of all broken ties, I MEAN!
Joy comes in the morning when no one sighs,
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If I die before WE
Look deep in your heart and remember only that which made you smile:
Feel with your heart only that which calmed the storms in your soul,
For when you lose your head in the heat of passion, remember not to be senile:
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Tales of an African Youth
I am the African youth! I am the struggle for independence, the darkness that challenges the moonlight I am, the melanin; I am the tales of my forefathers, the descendant of Kunta Kinte, the son of Madiba I am the diamonds of Sierra Leone, the Oil mines in Angola, I am the tales of the Mosi-O-Tunya, so when my smoke thunders, I pray you understand where I come from.
I am the bloodshed in Rwanda, the place from whence Moses came, I am the Apartheid in South Africa, don't forget the Solomon pits, I am the Guerilla warfare of Nigeria, , I am the tears of the Sahara when deserted,because despite the Nile, I still thirst for recognition from my bullies, I am the story of my land, Africa.
I am the origin of beauty, my curves are natural; I am the roots forgotten in the leaves of pop culture; the confidence misplaced in our leaders because despite the poor economy, we still get on a plane to visit the living stone no wonder Victoria falls everytime she hears about elections, now what do multiple movements develop when the front is not as patriotic as politicians claim? I am just a voice of an African youth but don't mistake my art for conceptual.
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Poetry! My Heart beats for you.
I was bleeding that night, a bruised ego and wounds running deeper than the Caspian Sea; you see, she came to me in my darkest hour, she laid a finger on my cheeks and replaced my frown with a smile; see, I had the Nile trapped in my eyes; sighs, banked in my breath; she whispered to my ears and said, I will stay with you like Sam Smith and support your will like Jaden; In pursuit of happiness, she melted my heart.
I was alone, trapped in solitude; enshrouded by many but none could hear my ululations; intonations, not picked by any; ennui was but my only friend, until she came along; she asked me to pick up a pen and paper; she said, she'd reside in my heart and promised she'd never part; see, her cousins ode and elegy were good to me; Literature, her mother kept me under her wing; Iambic was nothing but a good brother; it is quite sad what happened to her sister eulogy but her dad, rhythm accepted me like his own son.
Tears dried when she graced my pen; she filled my paper with beautiful melodies; despite studying linguistics, she spoke Art as her only language; bandages, it provided for my scars; stars, only lived in her eyes; she carried the entire galaxy on her face; yes, she calmed the storms in my raging heart; warmed the ice in my shoulder; older she got and finer she became; see I called her my honey because only the Bees would relate to her taste; zest, is all she brought to my heart; I promise there's none like her, Poetry my Love, today and ‘til I die…
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Despite the Pain3
(The story continues)
It happened again; except this time, she's the one that walked out on him; Feelings betrayed and a heart palpitating faster that light rays; whoever said patience pays,was probably referring to the hospital system; because that evening was filled with joy, except for that one moment of compromise; you'd think he'd have read the situation better being such an author, but I guess boys will be boys; you see this could have been sorted out in a jiffy,but he added fuel to the fire by being so defensive; I guess that's the one thing he ever did pick up from Law school...
Moods swinging like loose pendulums; oscillating their arguments and only tempers gaining momentum; see nothing could have been sorted out so he had to leave; but only to return more wounded than a buffalo,you know what they say about jealousy; he walked in, you see she had worked out her nerves so she was ready for whatever; they began with voices flaring off the roof; a little to and fro movements, 'till his hands embraced her neck; biggest mistake he'd make; because she couldn't put her hands away too,but after an hour or two of altercations; I am convinced they are meant for each other,because despite the many tests they aface; they always emerge valedictorian and the way they drive each other crazy you'd think they found their love in a delorean; but what is love without a little guns and roses?
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To Avoid Xenophobia (T.A.X)
When I was young, I read the story of Animal farm; naive and childish I didn't quite fathom the rationale behind that Story, but as I grew older, the hidden message became more apparent to me; I learnt that the big bad wolf and the three little pigs wasn't just a cartoon but a satirical depiction of our politicalparadigm; equipt with verbal paraphernalia, I aim to depict the tales as told before me;
Our system is quite grotesque, everything requires suits, how you gon' drill your boreholes without Tuxedos?
Read between the lines and see that Mwanawasa was a great leader, free TV because Levy was only a name on his NRC;
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Fantasy
On nights like this, she would sing to me; she would serenade my soul with beautiful melodies, in the infinite array of stars.
I remember her voice, she would soothe my pain everytime; she sung songs that communicated directly with my heart and left my feelings naked.
On nights like this, she would whisper three magical words much to the delight of my ear and it sounded like music; a rhythm of enamour entangled in a beautiful ode.
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The Perfect Stranger
She was just an unknown damsel;
Blown into his cave of doom, while clad in inexplicable smiles;
She had a glow that would outshine supernova;
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Fire and Ice
If we lived in a perfect world, would fire and ice both exist at the same time? Pardon my intro, I just wanted to rhyme, you see this is a tale of fire and ice…
I remember!
She was my fire and I was her ice;
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No More!
I picked up a pen to scribble my thoughts, I told stories so dear to me;
I divulged some of my most clandestine secrets, I made the pen bleed; oozing profusely my entire itinerary.
I wrote poems from the depths of my heart, my album should have been called an abyss;
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Pay me in Applauds...
Surround me with art; I am a painter, which means I can draw your attention with a stencil.
Cover me with songs; I am a musician, which means I can hit you like high notes on a falsetto.
Imprison me in words; I am an author, which means I can write your wrongs with a pencil.
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I
I is the ninth letter in the alphabet denoting the next after H in a set of items and/or categories; it is a pronoun used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself.
I, can separate a team like an Island or Isle and be at loggerheads with Argentina without grace and mercy (Messi)and still miss a penalty, so I, is for Iceland.
Big products begin with I: IMAX, IPods, you know I-phones and so do the worst apparently: Idiot, Inability you know Ineptitude.
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