Excerpt From Soon To Be Published Book

Menzi Maseko Spontaneous Poetry Collection

A collection of poems written mostly spontaneously on social media platforms or live during and after music performances.


The Ring Of Fire (revisitation)

Last night I saw Johnny Cash while blowing my trumpet

At first I thought it was the Devil

then I remembered that

Black is the colour of my Lovers hair

And the devil may wear black but she is still trapped in the dragons lair

When Cash stretched out his wrinkled hand

I Blue one Note but he swallowed the flame

I blew another note so orgasmic God came

Shimmer shimmying like some Ethiopian dame

Smacked Johnny across the face and his false teeth fell out

Takura Yakuda tried to rescue him but he pierced him with a hellish shout

I asked God why did She do that cause I had it under control

She smiled and whispered calmly

“I am the devourer of Souls” …


times like these squeeze hope through the optimists ears

once sound minds run to and from real and imagined fears

reaching reaching for the pipe

dreams strangled by chords from open mics

where artists souls are sold deep below market price

the state is the prime suspect

the audience is the judge, jury and executioner

blinded by the glare of foreign lights

willfully ignorant of both recent and ancient histories …

the messages in the music

the bassists armpit

which made the sound so sweet

after walking and walking and walking

to the recording booth …


It is this sound that feeds us

Frees us from a system that bleeds us

Turning what Nature meant for progress

Into serfs, looters and tools for regress

This sound reminds we

Of our promises to Self and to Ancestors

We said we shall over come

And we said Mayibuye IAfrika

Kepha Sisacwile ezinkambeni zikaFaro

Sikhotha izinyembezi zikaElizabitch

The Whore of Babylon has become our mother

Her tongue is out bridge over troubled seas

Her crown jewels may have been stolen

Yet we bow to her sons and daughters

Each time they put up a show

This sound brings us back to our senses

Smacks us with a wake up slap across our stupid face

Saying : “Wake Up You Black God

Why would you cower and eat dry bones like a forsaken dog”???

This is the sound that encapsulates our grandmother’s prayers

Mingled with Impepho, sweat and tears

Making a dread portion called jazz

Dragging us screaming and kicking

From the tavern to the boardroom to the kitchen to the classroom back to eMsamo

Reminding us….


Sometimes life is a game of masquerades.

You have to see through the show into the reality –

The sufferation and the redemption are all staged together to teach us how to maintain equanimity.

Published by greenankhworks

Healer, Translator, Lover, Writer, Father, Natural Health Promoter, Connector, Communications Consultant, Instigator, and Reviver of IKS

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