Siyabonga Njica

A Day In The Circus, A Night In The Slums

Like puppets societies less fortunate are maneuvered and subjected to ideals unknown to their own philosophy of life.
Mankind deceived and exhausted...
Their solemn grievances constantly aborted,
By these sinister ministers who's promises remain watered,
This is a catastrophe our people sadly find themselves caught in.
The disadvantaged are ignorant!
Hence they indulge in folly activities That satisfy their status of being heroes or heroines.
That sense of acceptance from the vigil majority.
Who's priority is to study flaws of those of his own skin
Instead of consoling his nemesis and live all in one peace.
Peace free from foul speech,
Like radical churches with sound priests.
Peace free from perpetual greed,
That intersects between our potential Kings and Queens,
Yet to the next of kin.
Let the pinnacle of my story begin...

Mkhokheli Mqhayi,62, a drinking pensioner.
See when sun rises,
He sparks beyond the contrast of moonlight at night.
He rather becomes a dreamer during the demanding day,
Leaves his patronizing sights out of plight.
See when sun rises,
He camouflages his identity with a plastic smile.
Here resides an aged old man in seventh heaven,
Making the most out of his short, imminent life.
See, we heard legends of his frequent visits to the nearby beer hole,
Where many like himself gulp crates of beverage,
And drown in their own sorrow.
See, we heard legends of his inconsistency with money,
And how he spends his welfare like there is no tomorrow.
Alcoholics and shebeen queens
The beneficiaries of this vividly vulnerable fellow.
On the drinking table,
He abandons his vanacular language.
He speaks of a colonial accent,
Manages to salvage some pride and stature so lavish.
On the drinking table,
My elderly brother becomes King!
Overwhelmed by a mere thought of a dream,
He showcases his worn artificial ring.
A ring however insignificant
And contradictory to what it actually means.
For he is just an uneducated savage living out of a rubbish bin.
A ring he foretells tales of his materialistic and opulent life.
My black brother a star for the day,
A celebrated icon which all people love.

However when the day dawns his brought down to reality.
The starred-face of the skies above,
Symbolizes his road to adversity.
In solitude he lives alone,
No money, no home, no wife to passionately hold.
He folds his arms feeling cold,
Contemplates about the possibilities of sleeping on the road.
These are but revelations of how society fails to prioritize well.
The under privileged bite more than they can chew,
Then want to proclaim their lives a living hell.
Resolute my brothers and sisters,
For our burdens will intensify as they come.
Who thought the man who enjoyed the day in the circus,
Would have to endure a night in the slums.

Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 10, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem is inspired by the plights of modern day, grown black men who spend their prime on liquor and hot-spots. The little government aid granted by the government is spent on beverage rather than on food. These are vulnerable, illiterate and poverty-stricken individuals who's comfort and content is concealed in brown bottles.
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Comments about A Day In The Circus, A Night In The Slums by Siyabonga Njica

  • Pheko Motaung (6/19/2012 5:53:00 AM)

    A brilliant poem! You're the best most imaginative responsible poet who knows how to tackle the social evils with a bold heart.I'm proud of you.Well done

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