Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Africa
African Pride

Africa my Africa
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Now on a lonely path
Got served by the oath
With concealed emotions
For she now care less, proved by her actions
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*Tangenhamo*
To have stood firmly a cosmopolitan argue
Zimbabwe politics turns an ulcerative colitis
So inflicting to its blind fold masses in rage
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Ever not to spit a word or seem to care
My wrath hast flared at once, You lost
All that blazing trust I had induced, Rare
Be thine affectionate passions to trust.
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Was it meant to be so complex tough
Or merely a battle ground of emotions
Both ends tires no difference so rough
Wrath and insanity to denote passions.
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Will ever life be fairly schemmed?
If it was a screen play I would dare
The act, your role young lion. Grief
Is all what I afford to pay you bro.
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No one is less important in crafting
Our Nation forth. As one lets stride
In reshaping our prospects daily in
Propell the notion in motion sisters
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Such is love when deep in a flash, without
A clue tomorrow spells or ever the thought
Seem to craft, Alas turns wrathfulwithout
Notices. Emotions vapourise alike draught.
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Take it for a game, I break all the rules
Or even for a maze, I collapse the walls
Ever be there a blank space, I will writ
Your name from the drips of my heart
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The clock did its mystical art
And the pod cracked to out
The seed bred between the shell
At displeasure,alike a gazelle
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Is this mine prospects? Oh a curse
Damn be this ethos bite so sour to
Fail the brothers conscience with it
Life spelt a dilemma. Alas, is this life
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Dear commissar
My poetry is filled with agitation and grievances.
To have stood amid, betwixt disillusionment and
Displeasure before. This plea seek not immunity
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To have drunk from the plague cups
Of impetuosity relactantly sipped all
Not to have realised that his phrases
Would wierd the matter that  phase
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Injustice
My poetry is a loud sounding nothing
As it is filled with more poetic justice
Yet in the domains there's no divine…
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Death
My intimates you mocked and scored
With your encounter the domain is left
In discontent, displeasure and bored
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Ghetto diaries
On the stoop of the bluff
I howl deviations
In a muffled loud voice
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To resume on where you left
Our home now a forlorn citadel,
The bloody fields you ceased
In your toil, a quest to sovereignty
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A detainee to the imaginary penitentiaries
With the unleashed zeal to breakaway
This is my providence, warped indeed
And renounced.chromatics flares
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As I stripped off the rag
My peel to the piercing breeze
With its blows descent, I felt that
Winter blizzard. A leap to redemption
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