A Human Encounter

As though I am built of some other material
That neither you nor I can make out
Whether you are shapeshifting or maybe I

Beautiful warm burgundy animal blood
Humping thumping breathing organs
Fingerprint all my genes awake

Ancient codes in each and every cell
Popping flesh bubbles and children unborn
It’s my turn it’s my turn it’s my turn it’s mine

Survival in the love and war of the breeders
Horniness half hysterical on a cliff edge
Commanding a thousand valleys a thousand streams

Hot savage bliss in the climax to live on
Significant insignificance as we bow our heads
To surrender to such violence in rebirth.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 15 March 2014

The Bathroom mirror

Sometimes the day molds me
Into features I do not recognise
A new day when at first glance
The morning has not touched me
And neither have I had a chance
To sculpt it with anxious hands

When loving you is so effortless
Not one of my secrets is original
I set loose a hundred possessions
And stand innocent in Nothing land
Nothing land she has everything
She knows well of eternal youth.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 22 March 2014

Why not self publish

I am inspired and eternally grateful for each and every one of your posts that plant seeds of endless possibilities for my life: your precious reminders to keep receiving, creating and giving. I am considering to translate a selection of my poems into Norwegian for them to be published in a book at a publishing house here where I live; connect with the people who I live with. I am also aware of the fact that my readership is mainly english speaking and Norwegians do speak and read english.

Perhaps to focus on self publishing an english poetry book is the way to go. What am I waiting for?

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

The Daily News

The bullshit of the week begins effortlessly
The printed word declares fear on the world
And at some point we feel the accountability
Close our eyes so we can play hunger games
While the obese stuff their muffle in protest

Dear God give me the strength to know you
Above agendas tripping all over themselves
Beyond all the seductions of his entitlements
Into the season of Your mercy and Your song
Because love is all that I seem to recognise

The rest is not for me.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2016.

Stay

And Frida’s red ribbons
For each man who is looking for art
When respect was never found in looks
For each woman who is looking for security
And love was never found inside books
Romance for what it is worth has left us divorced
Where everything better is waiting in another place
When we have yet to learn to stay
Where pure joy is.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2015.

City trees know

Buildings stand as concrete as the cold truth
Revealing a day as empty as a new rubbish bin
Yet the trees seem to know what to do with this
This longing longing longing for the eternal light

Leaves now quivering in the chilled silver winds
Yes the city trees do what they are meant to do
Nothing more despite the facades of progress
They are not anxious about it, no not at all.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2015.

Over the Seas

The oceans swell
As tears become saltier with loss
And bodies crash behind wintry doors
Groping for any familiar textures of humanity
That these foreign lands begin to recall
For mothers and fathers who abandon understanding
Just to smell the soil of a better life.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2015.

Inside Autumn

Multicoloured leaves along the street in a hill
Wood soaked and sweetened by the rain falling
Merciful water dripping onto quiet pavements
Dribbling slippery down the tarred thirsty road

A neutral sky where the air harbours no pressure
The rooftops and local windows leaking domestic
An uninspired dog lays heavy by an entrance hall
When there is nothing to do is there nothing to do

Flattened tired carpets still pretend to be luxury
Inside wooden walls of the same old thing again
Sometimes the coffee steaming will hold comfort
One of those days without a name to label it by

Forgotten picture frames capture some yesterdays
Glossy managed smiles and gestures from parties
The trolls and magnets and broken love messages
Settled into grown up life and ways of escaping it

The stale kitchen mood meets a crisp autumn air
Spring long dead visits the city to play some tricks
Sunlight so mild giving agonizingly little warmth
To feed the endless day ahead and years of ordinary.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 10 October 2014

Love until the end of time

When beauty no longer misleads us
When our bodies no longer separate us
When our achievements are forgotten
When all our mistakes have softened
When talking is no longer a commodity
When love abandons physical currency

When you have been there all along.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 8 December 2014.

Blue is the quietest colour

I can hardly breathe for the love
When light makes our skin so real
Scars and marks I won’t recognise
I have no want to join such details

Many tones of blue before dawn
The colouring of regret and hope
Blue ink drenched all the surfaces
To soften the stretch marks of life

Curling up into this our ordinary
I can now smell the quiet of you
Hearing that love can’t get closer
For love is sleeping outside of me

Your skin now glowing blue milk
I do forgive you, I do forgive you
I reach out to celebrate your body
Make you witness your choices.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

Originally posted 22 May 2014.

Summer break. Wishing you peace.

After Hell

Brought to my knees
Yet I am still calling out an Earthly name
Whose claims of love I never believed
Even when he stood in the fire with me

Because there is not enough desire
No not in this world
To drink disappointment away

Devastated that you are always thirsty
As God and death wait patiently
For me to leap into love once more

Without a single promise

What is my name.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2015.

Mad pleasures

The tender movement of goosebumps
To the winking awakening of my flesh
The bad itch of I will not surrender yet
Funny how itchy chooses a place

An urgent sensation I never invented
Oh the thrill of mad mad gratification
Madness out in a perfect sneeze yes
For the next irrational swelling.

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2015.

Published 02.04.2014