running chameleon by David wa Maahlamela

David wa Maahlamela | August 5th, 2009 | poetry | No Comments

flourishing flowers of destiny
grow on soil of the past,
the reason why back my head i turn:
with rotten eggs i was fed,
beacon and cheese i’m expected to vomit.
how i wish hearts were rubbish bins
to be emptied within an eye wink,
forgive, forget, let bygones be bygones-
i heard much of that…
but when pain flood the presence
reality knocks on my door,
a journey of forgetting is a long one,
cost more than just a mere t.r.c.
it requires those who can dance
to silent congo drums of patience,
prickly poems i wrote
and still to write,
in a grope of the past
to trace my destination,
when i host talks with guitar strings
of my blues
they see nothing but a racist,
can’t they understand
i mean no harm to no man,
words are my only weapon
harmless than rubber bullets,
in this poverty i find myself in
ink is the only therapy i afford
to clean nappies of my heart,
yet an instant grin is demanded
otherwise a racist i am.
i never fed anyone to lions,
killed and thrown anyone into a dam,
i never dragged anyone behind a bakkie,
mistaken anyone with a gun
or baboon nor dog,
i never called anyone with names,
forced a dog between her thighs,
i just write and kill people with reality.

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