Poetry - My Love Poem by Thabani Khumalo

I do all these things for poetry:
I rip my flesh under a running shredder
And discharge many chunks from my dark-brown skin; grams upon grams of colored human flesh,
For poetry to witness my death in its public sight (a witness to a hopeless case of human sacrifice): to have to lose a soul for this lascivious affair. What a saddening way to expend a human life.

I salute poetry with the respect of my genes;
The name of my father... And his... And the other fathers forever before: a history deeper than the deepest thought should morally dig, and all are fearful of the Almighty God. Poetry is an art that seeks to paint the utmost beauty. The search for beauty is like a joyous fever
And I am he who extols everything of a beautiful stature.

I sit above the famous mighty thrown of gilded frames and precious stones; I glide upon my cheer and seek for well in all my search - and far from me is a heart of ill and drooling wail. There is ambition in this sobering love affair: to build a life upon one beautiful word: Poetry.