My first lesson as a beggar….

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They came clad in black, faceless.
Never uttered a word, as if taught to be speechless.
They looted and shared….they stole and burnt what they couldn’t take.
They left us with empty hands, shoved us to the by ways so we could stare pitifully at by standers.
Hands out stretched  as if pleading for mercy.
A coin to wet our dry throats because we were thirsty.
A man will do evil to his brother and wouldn’t  bat an eyelash, if he will benefit from it.
My first lesson.
So give me some, a pesewa, a cedi…I will take it and bless you….
I will bless you…

Better place…..

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It was a monday, i hate mondays  i complained.
But, she said, everyday is a good day to have a good day…i watched as she picked her hand bag and darted out of the door..
Lovely, she wore her favourite red loubutines….back then i just called them red shoes…cos they looked like roses…
I saw her smile anytime i closed my eyes, cos they were so assuring, i loved her even when i didnt know what love was….
true, the best things in life dont last long….
And in loosing, the pain lingers on like a loud gong….
As i stand on the spot where she was last seen, tears flood my eyes like a choked stream, immovable, emotions bottled up im about to implode like a timed bomb….single mom
‘My son’,were her last words, as the taxi driver sped off….
In memory of her i burn candles…and weep my heart out hoping her face might pop out of the flames and smile at me…
Asure me that everything will be okay….
Cos uncle says she’s in a better place….
        
        Mhessibha de poet ©2015

Happy mothers day to you mom, i love you

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Start small…

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A lot of people, hate the idea of starting small.
But how can you become the sea if you dont understand the theory of being just a rain drop.
Cos Like a seed, over a period of time you develop into a crop,
Provided you go through the tedium of decay and rebirth all over again.
Ask coca cola, who sold less than four bottles in the first year as a gain
or that beautiful piece of sculpture around the airport area that came by result of a piece of clay.
Don’t be ashamed, cos even that mate you sat beside today is saving with the prospect of owning an estate.
Start small, and you will be amazed at the amount of flame that comes by way of that tiny flake.
Piece.

mhessibha de poet ©2015

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Multicoloured….

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“to those who crave the culture of others”…..

To have and apply knowledge is,the power to be wise,
So why the need to ask why white is brighter than black.
Why people prefer those endowed with beauty to those who lack
Why they prefer skinny to fat, why they endorse wrong doing to whats right.
Bring your son over they will take that bribe.
Why do you ask if Im wise, my hair filled with grey but still money-wise I lack.
I pour wisdom like palm wine into your calabash but you still refuse to lap.
Thinking money is the answer to questions a, b, c and d, so that makes you clever.
Thats your name but you are nothing like that.
You are daft.
Painting portraits with different shades of colours.
a distortion of what life should be
Your head filled with rotten advice.
You have eyes but no sight.
Blinkard, a bird calling itself crab,
You are like the bird that flies at night. A blind bat.
Unable to take flight in broad day light
So you can see what you haven’t seen and know what you havent known
Rather here you are, relaxed, ignorant of the fact that the black life is a big fight.
You are a child my son, you havent got a knick of it right..
Hmmm….

mhessibha de poet ©2015

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Mismatch…

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I’ve seen every move she makes, and all the smiles she fakes. But I stumble anytime I try to make a move.
Its hard like a stone, standing infront of a class solving mathematics I dont even know.
And there she sits watching so close I wished her eyes were closed.
it was like a complete freak show,
Only this time im the clown,with an o-shaped nose.
Looking embarassingly at her face as she smiles and cracks up like a stone underneath the 150 pound hammer of a stone cracker.
If she were salt then I will be sugar,
Complete mismatch but I love her like asana.
If she only knew, that unlike weed she makes me higher.
her skin lighter,than soda water.
I hate to see her walk to school, maybe I can carry her on my brandnew busanga.
And ride down the milky way so she can see that of all the stars she shines brighter.
And I will tell her that I love her better than aunty martha’s brukina.
But then we are a complete mistmatch, she a princess and I the son of a hunter,
She a book worm and I a weekend book man.
If she only knew what love looked like, then  I wouldnt have to say much
Cos I resemble love in every sense of the word.

mhessibha de poet ©2015

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Riddle riddle ( part III ) the box

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Riddle riddle riddle riddle

I am the king of the box,
Which means I live in the box
I pretty much own the box, but
Im not the box.
The box is like a present, a parcel
and im the gift in the box.
Without me in the box
the box is of less value,

Who am I ?¿

I have a lot in common with the hymen,
the lot of you have me,
but will loose me before you get to college,
Even more of you will loose me before you get married.
I am the king of the box,
If you loose me, I will smoke away into the cold wind,
And you will never have me to grasp again.

Who am I ?¿

   mhessibha de poet © 2015

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