Poetry

October 18, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

UN photo

 

By

Gavin Mndawe

 

 

 

Beautiful Funeral

 

 

Atoms roam round a tomb stone

It takes more than a fool to know

That funerals are for fools alone

 

It is said that he’s dead

What an illusion though

I don’t consider it the end

Maybe diffusion or moving along

 

It’s sad that he’s dead

At least it wasn’t by noose or sword

Besides, the silver cord must be torn

For the core to be loosened

 

Man, you’re manure

For intangible germination

Ritual killing of kings

Is sacrificial flogging

Facing pressure

 

They make impressions

Not seeing beyond the vision

Of decomposition

And the end of anything definite

And comprehended

In a hundredth of a second

Also known as ‘jiffy’

 

Let the dead in the spirit

Bury corpses of the flesh

 

Sacrificing in spite of the tension

There’s a limping longing for lightning

To reanimate him

 

They say there’s never life

Without the latter

Reason why it’s got wings

And a net to snatch us

That’s liberation and captive

Birth only took us backwards

 

Chaos has been there

Since day one

Before expiry-date-slapped Sun

Whose fuel will run out

Was spun by the spit of the one

When worlds weren’t whirled

Into the wild

 

It is the sentiment of Darwinism

Representative of ascension

One could argue with them

And say you’re the reason

For existence

 

To me it makes sense

That you’re inevitable

But look at all the effort

They put into pulling the wool

Over my eyes

 

You should’ve known it’s arrived

Clichés for days

Likewise,

With you it’s the same

 

They think of you

As a phantom

But I beg to differ

Something about the night

Makes one deaf to the outer

Amplifies the inner

 

Let us be grateful

For the end of an era

 

 

 

 

 

To Live As a Liver

 

 

It’s like facing that World War German hating

When you’re germinating

Life is but a germ

Contaminating the main thing

 

See, I’m picketing

Death’s what makes life interesting

Instinctively knowing that

Will soften its sting

 

Hear them testify about death defying

How many skeptics eyeing?

How many of you delight in the drama,

Drained from laughter

As others kept on dying?

 

It’s not out of spite

Yes I’ve been stepped on

But I’m trying to see it all

In bird sight

 

What’s right?

Giving your energy to memory?

Kilojoules are killer jewels

A flashback can turn

A treasury into treachery

 

The stretching trees;

Our kin is keen on the kinetic

Dialogues with the highest god

Leave them like;

‘’Will I die a log?’’

 

It’s said that life is marked

By reproducing and moving

Even more than just these two things

But the more we live by this anthem

The more we tend towards the antonym

Frugality and vitality are tandem

Death is like candy;

The bitter things

Can deem you glued to cosiness

 

 

 

 

 

Gavin Mndawe

He lives in Swaziland and is a student at the University of Swaziland. He writes about what he’s afraid to talk about, what he fears most and what bothers the philosopher inside him. “How far does language affect pur thinking? What is truly objective and subjective? What existed before creation?” The day he began asking these questions is the day he realised he’s a consciousness researcher. He is a minimalist, he breathes less, eats less and speaks less.

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