Open fisted pacifist
Blood curdling feasting atavist
The politics of my being
David & Goliath emotion-laden
Pebble words I sling
Swung from the hip hand-picked
Garden stones seeds of eden
Once more I cum-a-flesh
Not contra-receptive
Bleeding ink scribbled not to sink
Each line meant to think
Feed on my poison
These pills are made to kill
And not to heal
Serpentine crushed under heel
Spitting cobras whistle & hiss
I have boiling bile for a Bible
Come sit and sup at my table
Cursed to greatness
An avatar
I myself my own shadow manifest
No thought patterns
Volcanic flood for thought erupted
My own star sign in eclipse
Teleportation poetry
And the cosmos answers back in uni-verse
Entranced in trans-crypts
The mundane makes me feel so alien
I am spewing larva
My tribe is the inner core
Face-to-face with the surface
Words finger-scrawled on sand
That the howling wind cannot efface
I ink revolution
And think revelation
Geo-metric 365 days 360%
Entangled in human curves & angles
Extrasensory bodily aesthetic
A human bone to pick
Picking bones for forensic analysis
Mbongeni Khumalo: Author of the poetry collection Apocrypha.