INVISIBLE LOVER

Thou see her, everyday
Thou see her, right in front
She is there, but invisible
A prospect, that can be real
She is mine, but never there
She is thy beat, in front

Her glimmering eyes
Looking deep as soul
She is thy and thy is she
She is a recollection – substance
In thy distant arcane memory
She, my dark angel
A hand in hand, step in step
She is mine and I am hers

Thou know her, from a distant life
An esoteric song, enigma to many
Only simplicity in thou ears
A noise pronounced – l.o.v.e
Thou see her everyday – essential
An invisible lover, that can be real

She thy breath, yet thy death
She is thy yearning essence
The knowingly untouchable
Leaving me dry, nakedly
Nakedly seeking the giving circle
Not knowing whether to come or go
A tempting temple’s treasure
Thee, imminent breath yet thee death
Thou cannot play two realities at once

Thou see her, everyday
Thou see her, right in front

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

A CREATIVE NATIVE

In the bleak mist of confusion
This man toils in constant action
As uncanning ripples of life affect
Like the womb that borne with fact
Impregnated with the realistic mission
A speed with a purpose in passion
Seeking liberation in education
A lyrical verse that flows in ocean

Better recognize!
A creative native
That strides with motive

Forfeiting the riches of pretense
In faces of brethren with lost tense
An ideal aspiration shinning a promise
As beauty does to a man’s heart amiss
Mankind’s woes felt in the veins of homage
When the treads of experience a tale of age
In the oracle that promises insight
Within the ignoble actions left on site

You better recognize!
A creative native
That strides with motive

This creative native will walk with pride
In the minds of honor, conviction will ride
Ride on to infinite inhibitions of breath
As the kiss of wealth rotates mother earth
A native that beholds a persona of own
In the breeze of privileged time’s loan

Do you recognize?
A creative native
That strides with motive

This creative native will voice
An accrued finale of traveled choice
A ululation of gifted veins in grace
In ancestry that celebrates color in race
Word to this Creative Native!

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

THE SLEEPING POETS

Who dare awake the quiet poets?
In a silent saintly Abbey, nonchalant
To bleed words on paper justly blunt
A mindful vigil in times of wild revolt
A revolutionary vault locked as bolt
That gives a stern jolt to man of salt
Who turn the earth into war assault
The poets are not dead, but recline
They will all sleep, none will decline
A realist expressionist, in neon-time
In awareness the ink is black mime
Frankly spoken like Frank pen a sin
Who’s spilling words are a lock-pin
That gives a stern jolt to man of salt
Who turn the earth into war assault
Taught and caught in courts of fault
Who dare awake the quiet poets?
In a silent saintly Abbey, nonchalant
To bleed words on paper justly blunt
In a society sodden in none solvency
The running sort, with none clemency
Reigning sour words to souls beaten
The sleeping poets’ words straighten
A mindful vigil in times of wild revolt
The poets are not dead, but in a vault

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 
Linda Sakazi Thwala 

A STANDING OVATION

Here we stand, upon an ovation
Life begins here and ends here
Thespians, in it through I hear
We stand on the mountain top
Our eyes bright as light on crop
Shaven mystic Buddha’s monk
It is a shimmering aspect bonk
A journey into the indefinite
A saintly phase to the infinite
Looking up to its reincarnation
To it, death of flesh is real fusion
This is the one unnamed melody
The past, present, the prospect
We stand to wipe our hearts free
Change ways of life in live verse
Its embrace as strong as mason
It is all that’s in ire array rhythm
We have forgotten how it traces
Here we stand, upon a sod stage
Eye in eye we stand upon a phrase
Life begins here and it ends here
Thespians in it through, I hear
Here we stand, upon an ovation
We forever stand, a child remain
A child remain; a standing ovation

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

Linda Sakazi Thwala  

LOVING HEARTS

Light up this room, with a candle
Let our broken hearts, love rekindle

All past tender eyes made our hearts rattle
Your eyes made it all seem, all such prattle

Our mettle bruised by old fable smiles
Longing love in streets of rickety miles

Let’s leap each to the other, with joy
Our loving hearts mending from toy

This night has long dwelled in our hearts
Since the days our minds played in parts

Hand in hand, cheek to cheek, hip to hip
Breasts to chest, toe to toe, lip to lip

We have succumb to this way, headlong
Let’s not, this parting darkness prolong

Light up this room, with a candle
Let our broken hearts, love rekindle

What we, in this night shall share is ample
In days to come our hearts will not trample

Our mettle bruised by old fable smiles
Longing love in streets of rickety miles

In our loving hearts, this light is plunger
Binding our souls to be mates in all hunger

Knowing you in this specking brightness
Confers thee tiara in our loving heartiness

Hand in hand, cheek to cheek, hip to hip
Breasts to chest, toe to toe, lip to lip

To our slim shadows this affair is pressing
Even if this passionate life is in passing

Light up this room, with a candle
Let our broken hearts, love rekindle

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

LIVING IN FAITHFUL EXISTENCE (L.I.F.E)

All in it – do and stay, playtime
How hate takes life’s simplicity
At an expense of love’s capacity
This is, living in fragile existence

Colour words, phrases – headline
The race-card in the fields of red
Its referrer colour blind by creed
This is, living in fragile existence

Skins cease to be a pale deadline
How love removes marks of hate
Where all nations stand in all fate
This is, living in faithful existence

When the limits of revulsion eat
All in it- do and stay, play tight
Races need to be a love’s unity
Humanity it its realistic, purity
This is, living in faithful existence

Living in faithful existence – plus
Minus – living in fragile existence

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

INSIDE LEPROSIS’ HOUSE

Tear, the purple peeling walls down
Inside it, pealing pale plays plow
Leprosis’ House is dry with confusion

Tears falling on red faces with frown
In the opera’s visor, sad smiles blow
The palate walls, sore with corrosion

Tiers told in squealing songs thrown
Neither lights, nor candles aglow
Tension boiling like a bad recession

Tired glass has but long unto sown
Curiosities’ eyes motionlessly slow
With none knocking the commotion

Tense spatters were felt in own
When the damsel sang in bellow
Love pealed the fairy coat’s potion

Blue, red beacons were then drawn
Whilst the remains were readily low
Inside Leprosis’ House no respiration

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

BORN DIED*

Born in the early seventies
Let me sermonise the warrior
Son of the Mambatheni tribe
A spry dove of peace
Like a serenade his wings
Solemnise the flight of life
With a lance, captor the hearts
Hearts of atrocious void
Let me sermonise the warrior
His heart is arable
Meritorious to the crops it bares
A synopsis of serendipities
Lived with dignity and confidence
An apple whose juice quenches
Whose personage wades through minds
Let me sermonise the warrior
The storm of arson nears
Serpentine to the sky is the dove
Sordid air infiltrates the atmosphere
Poignant like an arrow through the clouds
Silhouettes to an eye of a little boy
The world askance the warrior
Let me sermonise the warrior
Son of the Mambatheni tribe
Thunder strikes to his misfortunes
Transient laments shake the living
Trounced with no soul to salvage
Let me sermonise the warrior
At twenty-seven he died

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

(This poem is dedicated to my brother and friend Ernest Xolani Mbatha. In our hearts you shall always remain – Love Light Forever*)

MY LOST MANUSCRIPT

In the ambience of my passionate nature
My lost words umbrage the certainty of future
Feeling the abhorrence of my frantic chase
Kneeling in faith to seek in dark places in case
In absentia my mind took sail on shipwrecks to sea
As majestic as the legendary Titanic, sank for none to see
Only acoustic in the orifice of mankind’s brazen thought
Whose travels in height of existence amounted to naught
In abeyance by ignorance to the teachings of scripture
With arrogance blinding to the luminous signs of rupture
Infighting with my abiding marked thaws of recollection
Abrasive at times to replace my keen affection to action
The doors of my secure shelter abysmal like jail bars
In the allegory of death to the words of creation in pairs
To my sabbatical ambles in the odd tranquility of scenery
Not knowing the pathways to a grand academic tertiary
Searching for enlightenment in the simplicity of breath
Beneath the rocks of ages with ants adroit of stealth
Sermonized by the thunderous acappellas of civilization
Affable in their adult state of sentimental acclamation
Lifted with proud hands to the cosmic rise to maturity
As the acolytes, who gaze for direction from authority
My lost words conversing with the times of power
In the wineries of archaic godliness from a brewer
My paper bare with ideas of innate philosophy
Under the candle of knowledge my ink a trophy
The wilderness screaming my name in recognition
I stood up to seek in places of abundant illumination
In the ambience of my passionate nature
My lost words surging the certainty of future
As my new words descript
My lost manuscript

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

WHEN I SEE YOUR VISION

When I see your vision, I smile
A thing, I will not rush
In this fizzled up state of being
My heart is full of appreciation
That wants to know more
Share my dreams and ambitions
Take you by the hand
Walk with you to faraway places
Only you and I, will tell
When I see your vision, I smile
I think about you, endlessly
Like a free verse that is prose
Quiet in the minds of Shamans
A tale of life with love
When I see your vision, I smile
A thing, I will not rush
In this fizzled up state of being
My heart is full,
Too much can never be said
In the airy spaces of being, felt
Where nothing, is everything
All, has been told
Here, nothing needs words
When I see your vision, I smile
As it is you, that is, Love

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

FOREVER, LOVE AND LIGHT

What is it, forever to love light?
Like a man-bird falling into flight
Rising Angels with wings set right
Taken into worlds that need fight

Eyes fixed in black and white sight
Looking deep, future left and right
White pearls on a lady are a might
Taken into worlds that need fight

The walk, is a fair illusion at night
Those with fair faith will not fright
One who rides into it, is a knight
A zenith given in bold inner height

These pearls on a lady, an eyesight
Vexes of sin soon turn into drought
Good words never fall amid plight
Looking deep, future left and right
It is tight, in forever, love and light

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

EYES OF TIME

Let me into the eyes of time
With hugging love, not rile
And spell the words of frame
In kisses and songs, not vile

Let me into your eyes of time
Like the play that goes into joy
As harmony in the land of clime
To sill the space of deeper coy

Let me into the eyes of time
And plus our dreams with fate
In mirth – collect a dozen dime
With tongues of chum, not spate

Let me into your eyes of time
Feeling the tick-tock inner being
That is cherished only in still time
Stretchy, as the Book of I Ching

Let me into the eyes of time
With hugging love, not rile
And spell the words of frame
In kisses and songs, not vile

Into the eyes of time, its written:
Those that love truly stay witty
As purr as a glove that is mitten
Than those that greed, fall in pity

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

POLITICAL MAN

This man stands unremittingly, man
Cursed by the battles of what is, life
His wound’s ache innately tightly tan
A political man tie to it like a penknife
In a marriage enunciated as, torment
Piercing the streetwise jabs of hustle
As deadly as a sin to be, not meant
Cruelly crippled by this crunch tussle
A shout from the podium of maverick:
Run to the godly building of union!
And steal seats of men of prattle crick
To rip the mouths that tell an opinion
A shame on men standing bare without
This march getting steeper, not nicely
Obscured with a panty and thrown out
The battle lingers on as fire, uncomely
As a gyrating juju’s jamming jamboree
Political jujuism vanquishing the magic
Corruption on its own to a low degree
Marking schemes, blushingly gigantic
In capital cities of grand capitalism
This political man red in egotistic fat
Polishing the blacken shoes of schism
This man stands rebellious – with act

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

THE BLACK TREES (To exorcize the ghost of the past)

They stand on the eve of life
Wheeled in by rogue little boys
Like a kingdom of dreams strong
Adorned to the blue skies of light
Awaiting the twelfth hour of night
When the soldiers of segregation dance
Killing the demons that brought apartheid
As bright as the candles in dark rooms
They are set alight in the blaze of vanity
Paying homage to fallen comrades of audacity
Their cenotaphs written in blood
Lost in the bushes of fire as ghosts
In graves celebrated without hosts
Like the treads on the black trees
Wheeled in by rogue little boys
Who are clothe in new garments
Their song heard in the distance
“These are the boom-fires of life!”

They do, stand on the eve of life
A remembrance of hours gone by
The old boys knowing of the pain
When the gas forced the tears to rain
The stones of hearts attacking the cavalry
Taking flight in the pale skies behind armor
As the dawn show the remnants of war
In the ebullience of a prejudice commander
Bodies of young guerillas frozen in the dirt
The women crying blood,
For eyes will-no-longer flirt
Others caged in mobile coffins to Sun City
Living behind treads of remorse and pity
Like the mighty Mandela they went
Only to see neither shore nor front
As the shadows of Steve Biko in the night
The black trees stand in the townships
Swiveled in the air to wash away sorrow
In suits of gentleman that where hard to borrow
Their song heard in the distance
“Mayibuye iAfrica!”

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

WINDOWS OF SORROW

What windows at first sight
Are aesthetic to the opposite
Yet adversaries on site
Hellos and goodbyes renounced
Each to the other bemused
Calamity draws each farther
As soft as a bird’s, feather
“See you tomorrow!”
Benighted the windows glow
Each to the other so
Parted by the black river
And in silence asleep ever
Nocturnal stars smiling to each
Moved by barrels never an inch
Good-morrow ancient sun
Curtains drawn by the son
Windows opened by the daughter
Coeval friends ready to slaughter
Gates clutter aberrations
Each to the other’s renunciations
The windows acknowledge
How each shall age
Bare witness to itinerants
Of each to the other’s itineraries
Jubilee moments memorized
However in secret glamorized
The windows at first sight
Shall gaze as falsely as an aesthete
With a burning sorrow on site
Window to window adverse
How its occupants never affirmed

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

MEN OF HONOUR

Where are our fathers?
Men of honour
Men of integrity
Where are our fathers?
Nobles of the round-table
Warriors of justice
Preachers of peace
Men of honour
Men of integrity

Nations shall weep
Leaders are lost
Evil engulf seraphic beings
Envy pervades philosophers
Their wise words, wretched

Nations shall ask:
Where are our fathers?
Men of honour
Men of integrity
Pretenders will live in Zion
Prattlers of false pretence
Accusing the righteous
Unsighted in their destitute

Shield your ears
A lost generation
Boys are lost
Girls stand at the corner
Shield your eyes
Where are they?
Men of honour
Men of integrity

Dearest ancestors
Ancient people weep
A lost generation
Come home ancient ones
The drums beat for you
Come home to appease
Wipe your child, Israel’s tears

Where are you?
Mother nature calls for you
Men of honour
Men of integrity

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES

When I close my eyes

Reminiscence of battles

Breast-fed into full grown war

My mind gnaws over serene soldiers

Cultivated in fields of blooded embryo

Sentinel parenting fear to wombs destined

Cavalier commandos preaching victory

Victory to a lost course

When I close my eyes

Sapient politicians as imps

Alert to a wiping from abusive fathers

Zenith pointing hypocrite to innocence

Sub-humanizing parentage nations

As coquettes teem words of desire

Unto derelict shadows on the wall

Once lovable to bygone corps

Conspirators like hungry dogs

Slick for residues of an assassinated Caesar

Noblemen turn their backs

Claiming blindness to a sea of natives

Whom their heroic son lays in a pool of shame

When I close my eyes

Enigmatic moles lead the blind

Pardoned thugs return to the night

Divine men devise division to demise

Clergymen preach dead words

Reformed communities dance joyously to poverty

Dethroned tears scorch the unborn

When I close my eyes

Tribal wars are a remunerative order

Bosomy mothers plough plagued desert plains

Defeated compatriots shovel for bones

Where paeans are pedestals to penury

When I close my eyes

My eyes are detrimental windows

The vilification my eyes communicates

Is worthy not a whinge

If a simple gesture as closing my eyes

Unveils mutinous ruthlessness

Imagine what ordeal it is, opening

My eyes

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THIS BEAST

A hound in the wind for pounds
Let me lick my bleeding wounds
The cold sweet darkness of it all
This life is nothing but a hustle
A human revolution in a bustle
Anarchy in the street of chance
At times written sounds of tense
This wounded beast in me is
A distant roar heard, from a lion
A marching worker’s battalion
These wounds are mine alone
Steps solid in slavery times zillion
Men go into the night of heist
Nothing gained, but a peace rest
Life is nothing, but a short feast
We have inherited a wild beast
Humanity is a capitalist list stain
Posing in the breath of its pain
A hound in the wind for pounds
Let me lick my bleeding wounds
Young lass’s love priced in ranks
Sank by those that own banks
Their existence forged in a rustle
Bureaucrats raising rows to jostle
In a jest that jimmy jovial jacks
With a smug smelling smile, surfing
Our hearts in the wilderness nursing
The beast is darkening by the day
Humanity is a capitalist list stain
Posing in the breath of its pain
Drilling to an end of its desolation
Wealth, is a position of isolation
Distant from real life nestling
A beast at best to create parting
At times written sounds of tense
Let me tame this wounded beast
And that won’t be the least

By Linda Sakazi Thwala
Linda Sakazi Twala

CHANGING SHAPES

Changing shapes is like changing lanes
Walking band along the Norkem planes
Close the closet mate, this is not a bet
There is no ghost to be seen, in this set
Just a crafty jolly man with punch-lines
Ambling to a higher palace, that bines
Changing the mental shapes that learn
As an augur that occurs in ideas of yearn
The lanes of life rising and falling in class
Coming in its pure-love shapes like glass
Thrilling as new structures in fresh vales
Stated in dazzling prose in years of tales
A crossing, changing shape surreptitious
What’s inside will show in times salacious
It truly is not a bet mate, close the closet
There is no ghost to be seen, in this set
This ghost you seek has in ages sadly jet
Poetry is the beat that streams in asset
Skin tones in the moral wilderness salient
A serene owl in read Norkem Park, radiant
The world is a place for sacred illumination
Aim to lift those in need, none exploitation
Foreign brother black, singing in harmony
United in the speedy course to autonomy
Xenophobia lives not in this brown skin
Time or place, any human will not spin
Places changing shape for man to escape
Katlehong, Tembisa, Soweto, in its cape
What’s inside will show in times salacious
The world standing to its voice, gracious
Changing shapes is with changing times
In forms moving faster in speedy frames
As charming as the petunias held in kiss
Wary the heart will, in lost time miss
The lanes of life rising and falling in class
Its funny how, one rewinds time to class
When the shifts in shapes were in nurture
A revolutionary voice shaped by its nature
Changing shapes, is truly changing lanes
Walking band along the Norkem planes

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

SHE ROCKS MY HEART

A chanting tribute to my love
Her passion puppets my heart
As crossbows of our stares dart
Our odd chest smitten and bitten
Surreal joys and sadness written
The pattern rocking in flirtation
Simply without any hesitation
This man to woman dove in love
Pumping on mending tie groove
It lives lively in lovely olive strolls
She, the symphony of my soul
It kindles to hear your smiles lift
Oh, the follicles on my hair shift
When the touch, warms the hips
Lips close in sweetening kiss sips
As bright as the lanterns in space
The pattern rocking in flirtation
Ladylove, you rocking my passion
Endless like the sun’s spark, vast
Our affair tender to days very last
Hearts gentle in chatting breath
Voices of our hearts real to death
Our odd chest smitten and bitten
Surreal joys and sadness written
A chanting admiration to my love
She rocks my heart always, right

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

A KILLER IN A RAMPAGE

A killer in a rampage
That which takes away age
And lives humanity in rage

A killer in a rampage
A thug in the night
That flows in sexual melodies with a might
With a tongue that translate notions of love
White in the dark angels called, love

A killer in a rampage
A blood murderer in mirage
A bed swap swaying sheep
Like a tsotsi he steals and leap
Knocking on the door of a clean woman
Whose husband stolen by a he-man
A pair of poisonous serpents in lust
But how long will it last
Shape shifting they were lost
With a woman, who hangs her dirty laundry
For all to see, unwary
Whom their transgress erotic tales
Amputated without any tails
A scourge

A killer in a rampage
That which takes away age
And lives humanity in rage

This invincible veined rapist
Fed to unborn children’s stomach to digest
As womanizer in the wombs of prodigal ladies
Which their birth is a portrait
A portrait whose painter is infamous
For his spermatozoa paint is profanity

A killer in a rampage
A blood murderer in mirage

This killer is my pickpocket
A dictatorial home killer

That which robbed me
In the rat infested alley-way of Hillbrow
With a Nubian sister and my bro’
Her warm touch was a death sentence
Conjured by her virginal mourns with no license
My thirst of life stolen
In her ups and downs of her loin
She said: “Deeper”
And deeper, I went
Six-feet under, deeper, I went

“DISCLOSE! DISCLOSE! DISCLOSE!

A killer in a rampage
That which takes away age
And lives humanity in rage

Define this killer
Know this killer
Whose originality is faded
Leaving scientist deluded
However, funeral schemes loaded

“Who gave it to you?”

This scourge
A killer in a rampage

It is no prank
Their bodies are drunk
A blood murderer in mirage
That flows in sexual melodies with a might

I ask you my children
Where is Xolani Nkosi Johnson?
An undisputed soldier
A young friend
Innately muted
By this deaf silent beast
Where is Fana Khaba?
A radio personality
Khabzela we pronounced him
Where is Kente?
A brilliant play-write
Where is Makgaotho Mandela?
Where are your sister and your brother?
“Where are they?”

Their thirst of life taken
By this deaf silent beast
In Zion

A killer in a rampage
That which takes away age
And lives humanity in rage

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

DARKNESS FALLS (Rest in Peace Fani)

Darkness has fallen on the man
The other will know society’s pan
In the house of jest it all subsides
A painful pang praised in all sides
A dreadlocked soldier has march on in salute
Heart seizing to beat in a place of concealed mute
Piercing through light into the beckoning darkness
An improper passing with no pursing in correctness
The songs of the living will glorify upon his soul
A celebration of his journey in this place of hearts foul
Mnemonic moans filling a house of inflamed veins
Our treacherous tears descending in crystals like rains
Darkness has fallen on the man
In light we will all, one day rejoice

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

I TREAD WITH A BROKEN HEART OF KIN

I tread with a broken heart of kin
My broiling blood at times not keen
Knowing not the ways of courtmanship
In the world that bestows showmanship
Seeking in the lost dreary eyes of femininity
In the miasma of my own forlorn masculinity
Imbibing the words of discreet diarized wisdom
When my voice of reason is deaden in my kingdom
The veins of forefathers reduced by ignoble manhood
My tears erased by the wounded hearts of womanhood

I tread with a broken heart of kin
When none cannot my ailments pin
In the abusive hands of a pompous fool
Deceiving society in a garment of wool
Pronouncing a proud potency to popularize
When his means motion that which demoralize
A nonentity to the seed that seek male assistance
As loud as nocturnal nine-millimetre bullets in a distance
Women crying falsification to the sexual woes that surge
Whose nameless infants’ dreams all but shade in life’s edge

I tread with a broken heart of kin
In a place where my heart cannot sin
The tormenting courage in my lineage dim
My visions restricted in an unprofitable rim
Like the aloof beggars who belong in the ghetto
Burglarising the warm souls that take chances on lotto
Envies to the children whose cradled by a content father
When I cannot mend the wounds that moved thee farther
A nonentity to the seed that seeks male assistance, shameless
Walk with a broken heart knowing the pain of being fatherless

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

DIVERSITY

These are the resonance
Of cultural diversity
Which unify nations

My African ness is resonant
A chasm in the womb
Of Mother Nature
Rooted in my blackness
The blackness of kings
My throne is poetic
That flows in river, ethnic
A peaceful transition
That recede, a wordy provision
A vision and not a delusion
To fore-fathers of lost tribes
Lost in the scorched lands
Ploughed by barefooted maids
With blood clots in hands
Strangers in their soft beds
Footprints of tears absconded
Tarred by an eluded husband’s thaws
Where the white man bestows laws
Half-naked bodies of segregation
Sweated evolution to emancipation
“I am African.”

“Look up young man.”

“Look up!”

The beckoning darkness is the butcher
Native blood scattered
The tribe, a glass shattered
The black child is landless
Headers of our cattle, useless
A virgin broken by iniquity
The initiation of boys dirty
Their white blankets a mirage
In the eyes of an old woman’s age
A triumphant war cry, desolate
Bones of a fortune-teller, late
The rains are a distant wish
Pale bodies of the sick, with none to wash
A country broken by antipathy
My bronze shack, a transmuted realism
Placed in the squalid land of tribalism
My sorrow lost in alcoholic spasm
Self-love in my squatter enthusiasm
Where the land is not pure
Where the land is not pure

“Look towards the mountains”

These are the resonance
Of cultural diversity
Which unify nations

The sun is setting
In the land of bondage
Where thoughts indigenous, damage
Eccentric characters retinues of darkness
In the shadows of the poor
Their mouthpiece, a tabernacle of diamonds
Glittering clouting sounds of greed
To meek impoverished seraphic beings with a mark
Stained by hands of savages
In the land of bondage
Where thoughts indigenous, damage
Bare witness to self-murdered souls
Black spills black on black for black
Solitude voices are my concussions of courage
In the land of bondage
Where thoughts indigenous, damage
Where thoughts indigenous, damage

These are the resonance
Of cultural diversity
Which unify nations

“How can I be free?”

How can I be free?
Where the mournful sun is setting
As pure as the Messiah
One who is most, higher
Who summons
The rise of the icy moon
Truth to the promise at noon
My way, my truth, my nature
I kneel in search of Kiblah
Hiding myself in obedience
The scarf, a symbol of forbearance
Mecca a destiny of assurance
Her doors the mouth of resonance
Which echoes sounds of guidance
In the land of bondage
Multiplicity is my stance
I am immune to all phobias
Meek to all twelve gates
My way, my truth, my nature

“Look!”

I am bound
Bound by the diversity
In my notion of nation
Printed in faith
In the womb of my birth
Once endemic fields of death
Which now embraces my resonant breath
Diversified in twelve ubiquities tongues
To infinity, to infinity


To infinity and beyond
My holistic voice of resonance
Not bound to any
Not spoken by any
Not heard by any
In the land of bondage
Where thoughts indigenous, damage

And, yet I believe
Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
It will surely rise again

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

EULOGY TO OBAMA

All praise to the son of an African
On the pedestals of history: Yes, we can!
Stand; on the mountaintop a crown of oath
Granted, in the honourable house of myth
Lincoln foretold the allegory in hazy height
The black man will rise in darkness to light
The human-torch passed in a dim recession
A charismatic voice to a global progression
In the red and white stripes with stars; no flaws
Let’s praise the great leader in heaven’s laws
Which, will canvas the man’s moral definition
Heroics of his heart penned in Negro’s liberation
The cowardice ways; erased from the bush piece
The land of dry turbans; shall at times see peace
The global eyes gaggling in novels of genial order
In the universal aspirations, you bare no dire border
The age of the conqueror, risen like a fogged dawn
In the shadows of matriarchal and patriarchal yawn
To pour in the grounds of hope with reverence
In the boardrooms of sage political intelligence
The ghost of King, Jr; dining with old nemesis
In the table of brotherhood soul food like anises
The children of the world shall dance with Barack
As strong as the words Malcolm stated to barrack
Mandela’s cry; Never, never and never again
All humankind will rise in the world to gain
All praise to the son of an African emigrant
On the pedestals of history, yes we grant
His name rhymes with the holy man Osama
All Hail to President Barack Hussein Obama!

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

JOHANNESBURG

To the concrete dews of the city
The hunters come in droves
In hospitable wings of white doves
Preying down on its colossal structures
Where the dews stand, like sculptures
Natives trotting in polluted streets
To the taxi ranks of lineal charts
Marching obediently in chaotic mass
Seeking for gold in the city of wears
As dedicated as the working ants
In loud silence, they move as killer bees
Departing from iron snakes to Bree
Walking to Newtown in a breeze
Others aim their compasses to campuses
In need of a chance to it all
With tongues unknown to white ghosts
As vagabonds with beanies play hosts
In the corners of mastermind robbery
Defacing faces to faces of rubbery
In the green parks where the potholes rest
Under the papers to drive-away pest
Basking to the city sun of hope
Their homes bulldozed in the location
Whilst others where thrown out by corruption
Now beloved by the streets at night unrecognized
Fed by day-break when the bourgeoisie discard
Their stomachs jokingly full
Their minds no longer keen to memorize
When at times a gang of youth terrorize
The Mandela Bridge a sign of wealth
When in the bins the food is not of health
My kinsmen’s tears drank by the sun
Their sorrowful recollection of what was
And the promise that is lost
Is this our city?
Where the politician, come when in need
However turn his eyes on its dwellings
A forgotten desert to vultures
To the exodus of suits in Sandton
And it shall be known
The hunters come in droves
In the city of gold
Where beauty once lived

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

LAUGHTERS BY THE RIVER

Give me just, one moment by the river
In the intrigues of intricate scenery
To scrutinize your inbound water falls
Slowly steering sweetly to swift slopes
My hands reaching out to yours to salvage
Your naked spectrum as white as sizzling ice
Our voices flowing in the conversations of peace
Isolated by the sentinel woods with boulders
In this trice of ricocheting enigmatic laughter

Give me just, one moment by the river
To guard your heart through this strange delight
That even the grass will not reiterate to none
The symphony of the intrinsic river alive to our dance
In the flight of our relentless lingering emotions
A quiet breeze larking to our immature exuberance
In the portrait of our reflections, our minds buoyant
To the knowledgeable aquatic climax within
Your creamy slender figure in verses of rapture

Give me just, one moment by the river
To envelope the letters of passionate worship
Written on the curvaceous trims of your smile
Falling with merriment as of the glorified heavens
Our wings wide as the mouth of the lucid river
Let me kiss you for just, one moment
In a secretive cascade of essential desire
Beneath the blue blanket of the universe
The celestial creatures cracking with envy

Let me look at you for just, one minute
To feed your womanly soul with my manly soul
In the banquets of sumptuous nature of eruptions
Not forged by false flaws of fickle fables but, fate
Our bed, green and firm as our perseverance
In the intrigues of intricate scenery
Let me love you, for a moment, my love
In the ebullience of the flowing river
Only for a moment

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 
Linda Sakazi Twala

LOVE AFFAIR

Let’s end, this love affair
For in our infidelity, it is not all fair
This affection, has not been so concrete
Now baby, we both know that’s no secrete

Looking at you, in moments of timely need
This coldness is not what we wanted to feed
We walk, in our slow fading shadows at times
Your baffling tears dripping like thirsty rimes

Feeling my emotional senses, in quest of life
Seeking for passionate solace that is, all so rife
Is it the boredom that made you lust, so cheap?
That’s all it took to make this relationship chip!

Now baby, we both know we are now discrete
This passion, has not been all so concrete
The moment in cover, you took the swindling hit
My heart made measure in favour, to return the shit!

In the same existence, we will never soar
People, can just hear the sounds in the night’s roar
Our spirits are no more in the comforting shroud
Now love, this does not leave us anyway proud

This spousal rivalry will leave regrets, no medal
Please, pack all things for time has come to pedal
The moment in cover, you took the swindling hit
My heart made measure in favour, to return the shit!

Let’s end, this love affair
For in our infidelity, it is not all fair
This affection, has not been so concrete
Now baby, we both know that’s no secrete

What gave you, to take this childish penile stance?
Sure, that’s what it took to make that virgin dance!

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

I WILL RHYME

The world will sleep
And I will rhyme

I am, who I am
Time bares no essence
To this flow
My rhymes are subliminal
To your streaming thoughts
Captivating my experience
Click-clocking my crucial breath
My mourns are an abyss
Tears flowing down my pillow
Deceptive to this evidence
Evidence of lost stage
Chronicles of my melancholic woes
Chronologically staged by destiny
I am, who I am

Phlegmatic I am, to this age
Patience made me
Even my adversary knows it
The world will sleep
And I will rhyme

I will pronounce
My nomadic culture
That flows in the stream
Of these veins
Hottentots gave me prestige
In the land of my kingdom
The land of wisdom
To my egotistical heritage
My mind is a lantern
A tribalism of these thoughts
Into a notion of nation
The beat of my heart a station
That resides holistic voices
In the land of Swaziland
Deep into the concave mountains of Zululand
Where the drums speak

The drums spoke to me
I am who, I am
I am Ndebele, moPedi,
Mswati, Mosotho
I am Xhosa, Shangani
Stationery I stand
On the boulders of Zion
Where I pronounce my name

This is who I am
Ngingu Twala
Mnyamande
Mkhonto oduma njengezulu
Shive engenampondo
Wena ka siwela
Shive ebomvu
Mnyango kawuvalwa
Uvalwa ngamakhanda amadoda
Wena ka Nyembe
Nduku kusa thethwa
U Twala lithonga
Lithoga ngokunukwa
“Motswakho ona uwamfirikanya”
For I walk with Batswana too

This mixture is subliminal
I buried my grand
For he lived as a grand
Over his barren grave
I stood, saluted him
My tears not shed
For he was a soldier
His soul is nomadic
Even the Caucasian forks know me
As a crystal purist
The world will sleep
And I will rhyme

 I will write this man
Into a coward he is
A white-bearded Blackman
Who knows nothing about his own
Who mistaken these mothers
To punching-bags
An abusive bastard
Who metamorphosed these sons
To illegitimate sons
However true to the sun
Narcissistic sons of the world

The world will sleep
And I will rhyme

I will write myself
Into a thug
Impregnated by a bullet
Death is my child
Even my ghetto girls know me
The barrel of the gun made me

And I will rhyme

My rhymes will oracle
My beloved Africa
Tears flowing down my pillow
Whose infants are in bondage
Even to this age
From the eve of my birth
Patience made Her
Mother-Africa

There she stands
Her welcoming arms open
Embracing my emancipated breath
Tiptoeing, toitoing, ululating
This genuineness
As pure as the sound of the ukulele
I am
The legitimate son of the soil
Toasting all bygone spirits
Dawning to a new era
My African renaissance
My hope, my dream, my reality
Even the seraphic beings know me
Mother-Africa made me

And this world
Will sleep
And I will rhyme

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

REFLECTION

This reflection in the pool
A mirror of death
For a fool

The ominous crows
Will take flight in prose
Writings in the land of rose
Showing the hypnotic adolescence
Scavenging in the streets of chance
Mesmerized in their arcane habits
Drug defined habits of pits
That leaves them in tunneled status
Their bodies uncontrolled like statues
Minds lost in dreams of lust
Their raving existence in a bust

A mirror of death
For a fool

Their narcotic glowing necromancy
An abused edifice will not fancy
Sleeping in beds of marijuana
Comforted in the arms of a syringe
Swimming in the pool of cerebral decay
In my hometown D.K
Their wombs hungry for more
Hearts pumping, no more
At the corner of zombies
Where they will offer you demise
Reflected in the eyes of strangers

A mirror of death
For a fool

In these misconceptions of hierarchy
No one holds the key
When my brother is but a cardiac male
A letter I will not, to our mother mail
His speech putrid on my shell
Abusive with his mouth pale
In the house of staggering hearts
An apologetic contribution to the arts
Self-love in the mirror of death

This reflection in the pool
A mirror of death
For a fool

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

LADY

I never dreamt of such a lady
Serenity glowing in clear sight
Penetrating my thoughts to recite
I, masculine muse of thy femininity
Hands supreme for thy’s genial fertility
In a country of rare beauty, thee reside
Even the men in distant lands coincide

A manifestation of eternal passion, is
In thy eyes a tune of contentment at ease
Lady you are beauty, as beauty lies
In my dominant chest these words ply
As rhythmic as the sexual swings play
An angel in Heaven’s throne of deity
Wings flapping firm feelings of fan

I never dreamt of such a lady
In my abstinent sabbatical day
A pronunciation of pristine precision
Time’s prolongation to thy realisation
A vision scripted in holy books of ages
Thy seductiveness, oracles in old pages
Like a fresh breeze thy countenance be
Enticing shouts to proclaim, she’s a babe

Thy grace flowing in ancient streams
In thy bosoms a dream to lie in realms
A cup of joy to share with thee in kiss
When frailty visits thy heart vow to miss
Even the men in distant lands coincide
Thy virginal sweetness to imbibe in pride
In the country of rare beauty thee reside

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THE AISLE

We all go there
Into that quiet sleep
In two faced horizons unknown
Placed in mobile boxes of our own
Our heads pointing to the west
With tears falling in the east
The black raven howling
When the doors have been opened
Speaking of all natural ways of demise
That transports all to the root of premise
We, ashes and dust begging in eternal flame
Named in ancient chronicled books of fame
The aisle is our hypothesis
Where all, will be told in whispers
Our windows smeared with white earth
As old murals daggle on our gothic walls
Obituaries painted in remembrance
The blood of off-springs crying in a dance
Our bodies stiff in the tent of hearts dense
“Here, we have gathered to pay our respect.”
The wind is no more, at dawn
Where the sin-eater has sold me like a pawn
At nine o’clock the gates will open to the lawn
The coral snake winding through streets of fawn
In black clothe its eyes shimmering
“Noah’s ark awaits the animals in Avalon”
Where the rainbow will take us all in
When the walk has been wealth-while
Our dreams placed in a recorded file
Creating widows and widowers
Our songs mocking it in sorrow
Oh dreadful death! Oh dreadful death!
Why cometh in the night
In the corridors of life!
We all go there
Into that quiet sleep
Only not proud

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

TRACES

Let me authenticate traces
Vestiges of life’s races
My soul is nothing but is
Au fait in its temple eases
Sojourn like a vase with decaying roses
A vase whose tawdry being finalizes
Traces of whom sprawls to floor
Bonny maiden made in heaven
Let me authenticate traces
Vestiges of life’s races
My body is your sod sodden
Sodden with words teamed with adoration
Solace whom eternally grateful
Occults shared to measure
Imbibe for generations to manifest
As winter’s mutational, is my heart
Which trudge as the debilitated sun’s heat
Traces of love wrinkled façade remains
Let me authenticate traces
Vestiges of life’s races
Looking back the majestic valleys
Holy trinity be my witness
I thank thee, which bore thee
With such vociferation, which borne thee
Like the wind huffily beneath the celestial bird
To higher plains of sweet imbues
Let me authenticate traces
Vestiges of life’s races
My mind shall transcend even in dotage
To such traces of glorified splendor

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THE BEAT OF MY HEART

I move to the beat
Of my heart
The true essence
Of my patience
The township
My courtship
The footsteps of my soul
Liberated by the gravel soil
The songs of taxis
Mobile in my mixes
A man shouts in a distance
“Heita, da!”

The dawn brings forth
The clutter
Awaken by the ghetto gutter
Stretching my sleepy arms
Feeling my pulsating palms
Scrutinizing the horizon
The east my heaven
I feast on my shaded lover
As she rises to the looker
Her heat my beat
I hold a hand on my chest
The true essence
Of my patience

A “spottie” is my symbol
That, which makes me able
I am a tease
My “All-Star” puts me at ease
“Tsotsi-taal” is my number one lingo
Kwaito beats, feed my ego
The street is naked on my skin
Always, making me keen
My ghetto sentiments
My ghetto elements
I borrow from the whites
My blackness put to the lights
And I move
I move to the beat
Of my heart

“Mshoza” is my roughneck lady
Our love songs always shady
I lick her breast bare
Her nipples rare
Lure by her sweet juice
I thank the source
And I said to her:
“Baby, I need no voodoo to do you”
To the true essence
Of my heart
Unseen, unsung, unknown

A concrete hero
Turned into a concrete zero
Told by Tupac
In the poetic park
In his “Concrete Rose”
And I still rose
To the foreign cries
Of all forlorn infants
My mind infatuated
Infected but, never affected
Their philosophical tears
Closer to me as my dears
Whispering a human history
In a walk of my humane story
“Let me live!”
“Let me die!”
Unseen, unsung, unknown

“Guga mzimba. Sala nhliziyo”
I move to the beat
Of my heart
The true essence
Of my patience

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

SHED A TEAR

I will not shed a tear
Brother and sister
My heart is a soldier
Benevolent to the leader
Beneath the desert of accretion
Exists abstruse deviation
To absconded dream’s carnage
Blatant fear to bondage

I will not shed a tear
For real man, shed none
When deserved accolades pass-by
Cadence of relation turns good-bye
Beautify moments to fraternize
Like rain drops to a scorched land, vaporize
Thaws of my thoughts assiduous
Neither juvenile nor fatuous

I will not shed a tear
“Are you heartless?”
Tears are an intractable storm
A river of affinity not known
A vital epistle from heart to soul
A guru to lead but seldom foul
Tears shed are tears atoned
And for that, I will shed mine
To subdue……

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THE WORLD WILL FALL

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! ATTENTION!
To the leaders of the regiments
These are no accidents
Terror is upon us as a malady
Not as lovely as my lady
Jihad is not a jest but a plague
Which suicide blasters did pledge
Deep in the hot sands of the desert
That their religion will be an asset
A commander in war to assert
In the minds of blathering leaders
Well refined in wealth of traders
Oiled in nine-elevens of trepidation
Poverty in the turban turbulent terrain
An assassination of a ruler is chaotic
The west in the state of panic
An ecstasy of bombardments in manic
Mass destruction a ploy to employ
To force troops of silence to deploy
In the hearts of their nemesis
Stars and stripes are malignant faces
The enemy is within us
Goating our sheepish ways
Bin Laden is just the beginning
Armageddon in white robes expending
Infiltrating the United Nations
With no other notions
In the table of brotherhood to bring tension
Like Judas in the last supper
A serpentine betrayer to cause suffer
Killing noble blooded kinsmen
All in the name of a sovereign state
Not prepared for the truth to restate
That holy war will kill Islam
Like a dirty squalid slum
When its teachings are not so
As the seeds they had to sow
Muhammad did not prophesy
The monotheist militia of mercy
Holding the world at ransom
To indoctrinate its ideology
“This is a caution!”
To the leaders of the regiments
Beware!

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THE REVOLUTION OF MAN

The night shall bear
The revolution of man
With the heated four plays of nakedness
In red blankets of seething happiness
Their erect dreams a pandemic of ignorance
In the minds of orphans without no chance
Where the pot will rest empty in hunger
Slashing affected veins as a pang of a dagger
Childish eyes lost in a disorderly world, of a beggar
In climaxes of men and women contaminated
‘What about me, mama?”
“Daddy, whose going to play soccer with me?”

It marches in the night
Taking away from good relation
Placed in graves without no mention
Where they will tell of stress that killed him
And why she lost the weight that pleased him
In white gowns of clemency
Which others in lust did fancy
Compatriots looking down in shame
Knowing of the pain that did tame
For he spoke of his prospects in bars
And others went to steal, not to be behind bars
However took the death penalty of life
When his spouse was but deaf
“He is my husband and men have needs.”
But, who shall need her?

Rioting in the night
When the government did deny the conspiracy
That the beast was not called by the virus
Stern like a dog that jerk the shackle
In the struggle of all races
Red like the Ferrari that races
Revealing of dangers that faces us
In the ribbon that warns and alert us
“Take up arm citizens!”

The casualties lie in the night
When the enemy is but invisible
Rampaging in missiles of departure
Putting all in perils of torture
“Our weapon for now is the condom.”
“Condom female. Condom male. No compromise!”
And the revolution shall be won

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

THE MANY FACES OF JESUS

I have seen the many faces of Jesus
Ascending into the heaven’s gates
In ornamental robes of innocents
His arms raised like wings of angels
In praise of the golden pathways of ages
An archaic accent in crystal verses of promise
A single man in the shrine veins of visitors
Like the pine-piper his voice musical
“Let the children came to me”

I, have seen the many faces of Jesus
On the foreheads of the matured
Whose dreams are forgotten at daytime
As bright as vagabond ghosts at bed-time
Drifting in crowded areas of placed chaos
Shifting away joys as frozen crystal mass
In the bright light of my might plight flight
The rainbow candles burning in my defence
As the thieves in my kneeling faith, bounce fence

I, have seen the many faces of Jesus
My beloved’s eyes blue and tearful
Focused in my soul like a lost sheep
Stoned in thorns of life masticating in blood of heap
My mind heavy with boulders of sinful regretful deeds
In the footsteps of the man who sold one with a kiss
To be crucified in the shades of a mounted cross
Where the rope dangles, bare feet pointing the gold
“What have you done to the son of man?”

I have seen the many faces of Jesus
In the lioness heart of my astute humane leader
His sounds paving a direction of togetherness
In the land of non-racial transgression evident
The land of Kane and Abel promised in dreams
Where miscegenation ideals are food to the posse
Love interludes written in colourful-rimmed prose
In white and brown hands of the children of paradise
The songs of slavery burnt in forgotten museums
“Free at last , free at last, thank god almighty I am free at last!”

I testify to this
I have seen the many faces of Jesus
In the tornado of my healing eyes
Dressed in all ropes of humanity
In all colours but, darkness
Looking down from the throne of heaven

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

PLACE OF MY BIRTH

In the place of my birth
The land bares oracles
Spectacles of my chronicles

It will sing praises
Formulate wonders of life
Where woman and children
Shall laugh, content laughter’s
In the playing fields of dreams
The trumpeting voices
Ululation of the glory becoming
The glory of rebirth and growth
The glory of peace and reconciliation
The glory of love and nurture

In the place of my birth

Nations will gather
A reunion of mother earth’s womb
Where color and creed
Bares no significance
Where my brother is my brother
The music of our hearts
Played, in unison
Symphonies of spiritual freedom
The gathering of seeds
The seeds of growth
That procreates priceless populations
Songs of life’s calling

In the place of my birth

The dark soil streets
Shall witness walks of heaven
The man-child will be seen
A protector of our virtues
Seven holistic voices
His little feet will mutate
Into giant steps
Where his tiny hands make
Miraculous minions
The works of his thoughts
Feed the wise
His voice guides
The breaths of children
Protector of our souls
Whose windows, will give rise
To the muscular chested men
Who will feed the crying infants?
At night
Whose cradling hands will pacify
Their woman to sleep
With percipient minds
That moulds a pacy fairytale
And the dawn bows
To the crackling bird
Beyond Mount Kilimanjaro

In the place of my birth
Where the land bares oracles
Spectacles of my chronicles

Beyond the mountains
The peacemaker’s woes are heard
Tears fall on the creased land
Felt on the tribal faces of gifted souls
Where the chief awaits the rains
His façade coiled by the scintillated sun
Where my brother from another mother
Is my enemy
Fueled with redemption
From the bones axed with bullets
Arsenals of corrupt kings-man
Where the old widow wends across
Across rivers of blood
Her stamp
Mapped with carnage
As she watches her great-grand-child
Feed-off the remains of sorrow
Endemic villages of death

In the place of my birth

Hope resides
In the place of my birth
From the umbilical cords of life
In the sea of my tranquility
Where the echoing drums beat
And my feet dance
In the celestial grounds of peace
The Holy Mother rejoices
The lifting of hands
In my grounds of patriotism
Seen by the angelic eyes of the world
Glory becoming
In the place of my birth

Where the land bares oracles
Spectacles of my chronicles

The universe does acknowledge
The spectacles of my chronicles
Reverberating in the soles of my feet
Letting me know
The destination of my birth

“I will tell all”
The destination of my breath
The place of my birth
Is Africa

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

BEAUTY

Lady, you are beauty
You are the spring that comes
With the flowers that bloom
In the light of day and moonshine loom
You fill the dry hearts of winter with warmth
Tracing the soft tips of love in path
The breeze that flows inside your skin of queens
Your voice is like the fresh aromas that erase spleens
In darkness my beckon of romance
Pouring my soul in abundance

Lady, you are beauty
You are beauty is, as beauty does
Twisting intellectual minds of lasses to foes
Dispelling of all natural theories of universe
Evaporating my sweat into verse
My eyes pimpled in realization
In a groove of sweet hesitation
What is as, what was artificial
You in my peace classical
As the violins of Italy

 Lady, you are beauty
You are the epitome of life
Accentuated in your sexy moves
Your keenness erupting my hood in roves
Your clear nipples arising new birth
Seizing my breath in fountains of mirth
Lady, you are beauty
The bond that binds

Thee
Beauty of glory

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

IN THE LIFE OF A ROSE

Scarlet in the sun’s rise
You are my dear love
With no visible fear
A rose amongst thorns
I have looked on
Amid days of germinating
Whilst thee turn aglow
As sweet as air after cool
Cooling rains soothed
Abundant gardens, I have seen
However, none compares
Clipped some from their stems
Although as thorny as hell
But none with amiability that flows
Your riverine smile beloved
“Oh! How I have longed”
Elevating you from your stem
Cupped in my delicate hands
Blowzy beneath my lips
“Oh! Your smooth petal
Your somnolent eyes
Your rosy smell
Your enticing hair
Your soft brittle skin
Never-mind amity
‘Tis denial of what burns
Beautiful rosebud
I want to know you
Not afterlife when thee
Is nothing but, soil and fossil
But now, this minute!
In this life of a rose

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

REALITY DREAMING

I dream about you
About you, loving me
Holding me
To the ends of the earth
I dream
I dream about you
Your serene sensuous beauty
Your smile luminous
Your tearful eyes calling me
My shoulder your sanctuary
I dream about you
About your sexy mind
Lucid in my thoughts
I dream
I envision you as,
As my lover
My wife, my friend
My pillar of strength
I dream about love
You love
On the beachside
Admiring the evening sky
Our sweet melodies tranquil
As the eternal ocean
I dream
Your seductive nakedness
Silhouetted
Your bosoms
My thirst quenchers
Lured by your persuasive thighs
Guiding me, leading me
To that fruitful tunnel
“Thank you Lord!”
I dream about you
I see you
As my blood bearer
Your heart my heat
Loving me
Your laughter
My forever dream
I dream. I dream, I dream
With an awakening desire
That my dreaming is
My reality dreaming

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 

I LOVE LIKE A FOOL

When I love
I see love for love
I do not see other
I see no mistake
And do not count things
Other men do
But true love
Has no fault

When I love
The pain inside
Reaches out and hold
Holding on for dear life
Not cringing
Till my crimson heart
Drips tears of blood

I look at you
When I love
And feel the sweet pain
Seeing no other
But you alone
My Dark Angel
Goddess of my soul

Other men will cry
And shout from rooftops
When I love
I love like a fool

By Linda Sakazi Thwala 
Linda  Sakazi Twala

DESTINY

Taking a walk I do see
My destiny is yet to be
I do at times look at lovely flowers
As I did in my high schooling years
But with care, my eyes behold
In their slim and curvaceous smiles
Their mutters taunting my heart
I say hello to some and grin to others
However my eyes never telling
Pronouncing them with their soothing names
Wishing, in their bosoms to lie
The passion boiling inside
I try my luck at times
With a letter of reverence
Enveloped in rose and chocolate
Only to falter in their sweet decline
Saying I’m too good for them
I see them after, in hands of others
In my walks of solitude
Laughing in infatuation of act
My tail wagging in pride
Kneeling at night to ask my father
Who ate my apple, and why?
Then, tell of any color or any race
To adore in dark and light
In the sea of mutual love
At times I call but, never called back
Others speak of my intelligence
When I share my thoughts of honesty
Saying of me, staying indoors
When I, so many places do know
Judging my prudent nature
I keep silent and watch
Like a hungry lion after a flock
In my lonely bed, I do pray
My tears falling at times
That in my dreams
My destiny
I do find

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

A SACRED HEART (In memory of Scelo)

I know a heart that is sacred
It leaps on the other side untainted
Even in bleak cumulus times it heals
Looking out, with insightful eyes, that feels
With an old constant forever heat it burns
Relative, always to ubiquitous winds that ferns
It awakens my soul when the hour of need arise
My love knowing, its certainty to no surprise
When I speak of days gone by
My friend’s tears in my own pass by
Touching the souls that shake in life
As tenderly as the trees that stand with leaf
A giant in faces that glance up at its beat
Vivaciously vociferous in vexed reheat
Sprinkling a peaceful repose to unease
Leaping side by side to my own
A soul mate; my heart will not loan
In our ascent and descent of landscape
Laughter en route to a heavenly escape
It leaps on the unknown side untainted
A spiritual touch that is, in my bones painted
In journeys we took, my memories are always keen
A gentle giant, gaiety like ganja to kith and kin
Our companionship glorified in eternal bonfire
Eve’s heart mourning the rib that gave measure
Mother, nephews, uncles, sisters, children, wife
SALUTE, SALUTE, SALUTE!!
I shall celebrate you, always
I know a heart that is sacred
A worthy heart gone
To the unknown

By Linda Sakazi Thwala

FIRE IN THE BELLY

There is a fire burning in the belly

It rings inside like a lover on a telly

Perceptive for what is within truly

It crackles and wrangles over as paper,

Paper scripted by words of a mad rapper

It speaks in many voices of infinity

In the hills and street-ways of finality

Its sounds sing as the forever it afflicts

Not telling the inheritors of what it depicts

In short glimmers of light it shall be said

When all is full and the debts, are but sad

The fire in the belly shall burn on, as pledge

In furious flames to show the world its badge

As the curious songs of the maiden in the bush

Screaming: Oh, heaven open up to glory lush!

In the belly a new birth shall be told in earnest

Its identity strange, like the beast that took Ernest

Spirit, communing with scorching flames on skin

The birth in the belly twisting in the world’s spin

Pointing its inheritor in the ambles of turf

Where time ticks in freedom for all to surf

There is a fire burning; fire in the belly!

It rings inside like a lover on a telly

It crackles and wrangles over as paper,

Paper scripted by words of a sane rapper

Perceptive for what is within truly

It rises inside in the chilly dead of night

Peaking its nemesis into a cosy daylight

What a strange feeling it is; this fire

Oh no, it is nothing that is so dire!

It speaks in many voices of infinity

In the hills and street-ways of finality

Its sounds sing as the forever it afflicts

Revealing to the inheritor of what it depicts

This fire burning in the belly

Rings inside like a lover on a telly

By Linda Sakazi Thwala  

Linda Sakazi Twala

THE CRYING MONA LISA

She smiled hiding the tears
That tore her heart with spears
Her conceptions not yet articulate
At thirteen her menstruation late
Her baby like groans destitution
In the raping blade of deception
At the very place called home
Abused under the loving dome
Molestation denied in the paedophile dark
Forbidden to play in the observant park
Her face with unpromising smiles
As her eyes with tears of piles
Look deep in the parental hands
That refused protection that mends

She smiled

In the streets of Johannesburg
Where she had to beg
Searching for shelter in brothels
Conforming, her love no longer petals
No more, does or does not
Petulant in the throbbing of strangers
In her mind acquired stranglers
Euphoric in the monetary palace
With amnesia to please
In a spell of white diamonds
Her life, dry like forgotten ponds
Descending into the undefined files
When her life had been nothing but miles
Now as afar as the scare-crows on poles

She smiled

Sited on the vestiges of splendour
When she thinks of anything but pleasure
How her existence inclined in terror
When she hoped to expunge horror
In the palms of a chauvinistic fool
His alcoholic tummy full
Careless on her fragile body
As he trains on her, in her monody
Pleading forgiveness of tragedy
When you cannot tell if she’s a lady
His sober sobs scripted
In an act indecently opted
When she did not the words heed
That told of this man’s need

She smiled hiding the tears
That tore her heart with spears
Her sorrow lamented in prose
Telling her eloquent ache in poise
Her feminine uniqueness regal
How touching her is illegal
When she yells for assistance
To obliterate the ghosts of hate
Forced on a sexist plate
By this boy who called himself
Her man

She smiled
In her estuarial radiance
Told by Da Vinci in prose

By Linda Sakazi Thwala  
Linda Sakazi Twala