October 18, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

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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


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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