Menzi Maseko Spontaneous Poetry Collection
A collection of poems written mostly spontaneously on social media platforms or live during and after music performances.
1
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” …
2.
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 …
3.
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….
4.
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.
Green Ankh Works 