Tag: work

Millions of oily eyeballs
Hypnotised by one swinging ball
Of such reckless proportion
In such a glamorous scene
As things become graver
Too terrible to remember

Nor could we close the greasy mouth
For she was much too high above grace
Until she saw herself begging for mercy
Upon meeting her haggard reflection
And stopped laughing abruptly
At the feet of the barbarians

Billions of muted screams
The earth howls from each corner the same noise
Victims with enough time to worry
Head bedsores for those who can afford them
Too heavy too hard too far
To begin at ones own feet

Put away that weapon of love
It is too soft for this kind of work
Where is your blood
Because horny will turn
Perfume will never disguise poverty
Love comes long after it has gone

That man showed us he was mad
These alarms can no longer be snoozed
The iceberg approaches
There is no formula
It won’t be found on Mars
Because love is right here.

(Poem in progress)

Copyright © Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.