Written by Grayson

  Omar Wakes to heavy rains, The roads splatter, His car without the usual banter, His drive full of clutter, Grrrrrr- The engine expires, “Mafuta yameisha” Aren’t we-  Mikuki ya taifa Then why do we suffer? Maria Wakes to a drunk husband, To the cries of a hungry child, No pap in the pot, No money for ispinashi, Grrrrrr- Her own stomach growls, “Angazi ukuthi ngenze njani” Aren’t we- Imikhonto yesizwe Then why do we suffer? Lisa Wakes to a dirty house, Boss had a bash last night House needs cleaning before it gets bright, The morning begins with broom and clatter, Paaaa! Boss slaps her, infuriated, Angry that her clatter disturbs the sleep, “Mumbabarire kubyo, shobuja” Aren’t we- Amacumu y'igihugu Then why do we suffer?

    There are termites in the acacia tree, They frolic and dance, They munch on the wood And drink the sap, They red the bark  And deface the blossoms,, There are termites in the acacia tree But the tree remains still. There are termites in the acacia tree, They jump and spread And wander throughout the garden, They spit on the wood And guzzle the leaves, There are termites in the acacia tree But the tree remains silent. There are termites in the acacia tree, The garden continues to redden And the leaves fall with no haste, The termites construct and grow Letting nothing remain, There are termites in the garden But the trees remain unchanged. There are termites in the acacia tree, They surround every inch And claim all they see, The wood splits And the amber dries, The roots soften And the flowers bloom with a dingy aura, There are termites in the acacia tree In fact there are termites in all the acacia trees But they all remain mute And watch the garden go by.

  I dream of Pax Sapienza. A time when all conflicts come to an end; Where war is nothing but a story of the past, When the earth is cleansed of the hideous sounds of violence, A time when silence prevails, -and the lands are at peace. I dream of Pax Sapienza. A time of undying empathy, Where men understand each other, When all peoples acknowledge they all suffer from the condition, When feelings of love, sadness, loss and fear are shared by all. A time when we are all brothers and sisters under the sun. -a time of never-ending coexistence. I dream of Pax Sapienza. A time when all men are blind. Where all people see no differences between one another, Where men are not judged by the tone of their skin; Neither by what resides between their legs; Nor by how much they possess. -where everyone sees themselves as one and the same. I dream of Pax Sapienza, Because only dreams can harbour such times. Because men are not blind; And gunshots still echo in our lands. I dream of Pax Sapienza...

    “To feel is to hurt”, he says. Love, Hate, Fear and Shame All culminate in pain. “It is time to cleanse” Consume a chalice of bleach. Drown in a whimsical smile. Emerge clean and new. Gone are feelings of anger and admiration, Emerge spotless and pristine. Burn awe and anxiety, joy and amusement. Come out untouched, raw and numb, Drown in a whimsical smile. The cleanse is complete, He now walks free and unbound, Insensitive, almost mechanical. No tears nor euphoric outbursts, The only thing he could muster was a dead guffaw. Drowned in a whimsical smile. There he goes, like an automaton, His footsteps entirely scripted. No remorse, nor any feeling of nostalgia, His breath well-paced, He does not hurt anymore, Nor does he feel at all, Void is all that is left, Astonishing is the power of the cleanse, He proceeds to live his life… Drowning in a whimsical smile “To feel is to hurt”  “To feel is also to be man” To scrub away horror and interest, Is to scrub away your huma...

  Cold, Cold is my shelter, Cold is all I’ve known, Cold is all I’ve been, Cold is where I belong, Cold is what I am, Is there anything more than cold? Warmth , This experience is the most alien I have felt, I am filled with fear and awe, But I am neither drawn nor repulsed by it, What happens to me now? The cold, my home is taken from me, What becomes of me now? Drained, I am opened and dissected upon, My very insides are taken from me, My soul is drained without a pinch of remorse, Emptiness is all that is left of me,  Soul-less and empty I am thrown away, Left in the dampness of the ditches. Noise, From the ditches I am taken, A new life has been blown into me, The children rejoice as they fondle me, Is this what I was meant to be? The noise is sickening but melodious, The noise clouds the sounds of my endless beatings. Darkness, The children grow tired of me, The dampness of ditches calls out to me, This time accompanied by the crash of the rain, I am moved and displaced, ...

  “Isn’t it beautiful Pierre! Who would’ve thought the white of chalky cliffs, the blue of the sea and the orange of the sunset would birth such a beautiful watercolour? It’s just … wow!” "Feeling poetic today, aren't we Lola?" Pierre spoke while glancing at Lola's hazel eyes. The orange of the sunset made them glitter like a dazzling star in a dark night sky, and Pierre could not help but become lost in them. "Stop, Pierre. Do you see the same sunset that I do? Well, I hope you are, since I doubt there is anything as lovely as this sunset right now." "Well, I can think of a few things, Lola." “Well, then, why don’t you do me the pleasure of telling me what is more beautiful than this sunset” "All right, then." Pierre was once again caught in Lola's gaze, and his mouth was unable to deliver the quippy response that his mind had prepared.  Lola's hazel eyes, tan complexion, sultry lips, and even the blemish on her nose had won Pier...