Sunday, November 27, 2011


those with a cleched fist
believe that all the best
come from the east
hence they cant resist

from the east
comes the beast
which cant speak lest
you bring a translator first

the pruducts are best
just before put on test
from the East comes the beast
which needs a translator first



my president is the irony of my struggle
the catalyst of my controversial poetry
he is the inspiration of all peace theories
a true story of successful poverty
the blockade of black progress
my president is a champion of all times
he has "won" all races he has run
My president is cool

Monday, October 17, 2011


Dear Comrades
Welcome to our congress
We are not here to impress
As in order of introductions
Not the list of sanctions
Here there are dogs,
Chickens and pigs
Elephants, awls, lions and you
Yes, you

Monday, September 26, 2011


He loved the war
Fought in the war
Won the war
But lost the battle

One year
One month
One week
One day
One night
One time
They came
He ran
Jungle became his home

They were in red berets
Carrying guns and grenades
They killed my brother
Rapped mother
Fucked sister
The whole family was sucked

Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Poor service delivery is an insult to democracy
It is tantamount to citizen exploitation,
a sign of disrespect and lack of patriotism
a real danger to life

As residents and citizens
Ratepayers and breadwinners
We have the right to know
Why ZESA tariffs go up,
while the service goes down.
We have the right to know
Why we pay so much
For so much load shedding
Siphuma ngomnyama: singene ngawo
Sesizizambane zakoBulawayo
Ezigadwa ngumthakath’uZESA
We have the right to know,
Why they earn so much
To deliver so little
Basijwayel’okwengindi etsh’ ingatsho

We deserve to know,
Why all cars park paside in every roadblock
While road accidents persist after day long roadblocks
We deserve to know
Why almost every police officer in this city
Speaks a language of their own
 and expects me to respond alike
We really deserve to know
Whether it’s a fact
That all political crimes are committed by opposition party members
I have the right to remain silent
For what I say may be used against me in the court of law
But when I am silent bathi zinharo
We deserve to know
Whether we have a police service for the people
Or a police force: Against the people

We deserve to know
How BCC is able to purchase expensive high-class cars
For the rich and greedy bosses
While failing to pay workers adequately and in time
We deserve to know
Why it takes so long to attend to burst sewer and water pipes
When there is enough energy to repair amabhawa
And leaking ingwebu tanks
We deserve to know
Why there is still the call to “Keep Bulawayo Clean”
When Council is not collecting refuse
We deserve to know
Why we elect councilors
Whose decisions are overridden by the secretariat
Siss you City Father,
Bulawayo is our city not your private company
Cleanliness is next to godliness
Service delivery is the cousin of democracy

We are starved of information
Knowledge and phone calls
We deserve to know how our bills accumulate charge
Even when we make no calls
We deserve to know
What happened to the estimated yesteryear bills
We suffocate as calls can’t go through
Even when the bills are fully paid
Maybe we pay for the calls
You make as you forget to monitor our bills

Forewarned is forearmed
We deserve the best or none
Better without than like with when actually without
We shall take to the streets tomorrow
We shall refuse to pay any bill tomorrow
We are tired of being enslaved by the products of our vote
Deliver or leave us
We deserve the best service delivery
Not piece meal solutions
We don’t want load shedding timetables
We want water in our pumps and electricity in our homes
We don’t need long media briefs
Justifications of injustice
We deserve the best or none
Better without than like with when actually without
We shall take to the streets tomorrow
We shall refuse to pay any bill tomorrow
And refuse eve to be arrested by any officer tomorrow
Sizafanan bobhoyi
Phela okungapheliyo kuyahlola

Monday, August 22, 2011


we were born here,
we fought here,
we live here,
we loot here,
we are corrupt here,
we shall be killed here,
we shall die here,
we will be buried here,
in our land,
which is our prosperity.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


……dinner of violence,
nights of grief,
breakfasts of torture,
lunch of slogans,
…. the irony of democracy,
the maze of freedom,
the dream of change.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Somalia Sings "Help"

America blasts bombs in Libya
Masses are buried by hunger in Somalia
South Africa funds flashy Mswati in Swaziland
When millions go for days hungry in Somalia
Zimbabwe pays generals and supports foreign missions
When millions die hungry in Somalia
France funds NATO to bury Libya
When thousands of children are hungry in Somalia

Monday, August 1, 2011


This is the boy
Who refused to be silenced,
The boy,
Who refused to be oppressed,
The boy,
Who chose freedom in oppression
The boy,
Who took his own way
The boy,
Who spoke the truth against threats

Monday, July 25, 2011

Drum-Media discussion with Bhekumusa Moyo

Introducing Bhekumusa Moyo and his literary insights and views:
I grew up reading Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Athol Fugard, Charlse Mungoshi, Chenjerai Hove and Buchi Emecheta. I fell in love with the way they approached contemporary life issues. Their issues ranged from political. These heroes inspired my writing a big deal. They taught me to be true, relevant and consistent. When I discovered my touch on Protest Poetry, I respected that they had their own approach, I stood by the side of Protest and I am still firm on it. As a performing poet also, there have been blocks on my way because of my work which range from couple of arrests, questioning, censorship etc. I used to write for the Sunday News Poetry Column here in Zimbabwe until when I was requested to stop as my poetry was inciting. Nonetheless, from a few notes I learnt from “I write what I like” by Steve Biko, I said, I would write of what I hate.
Poetry is my first love. The way I write is the way I live and feel things. Each time something worth writing of passes my mind, I just write. I have never spent more than an hour on one poem. It sounds crazy! To me poetry is like my position on a subject. When it strikes it is just like that. I do not stress toning down or making it sophisticated. The literary devices in my poetry just find their way there. I don’t force them on particular lines. I believe simplicity is the greatest sophistication. I want everyone to read my poem once and understand what it speaks of.

Thursday, July 14, 2011


i hear birds singing a song
they believe they belong,
to the jungle in which from they sing

they mind not the stone
that breaks them to the bone
from the hand of man

as a new day breaks
mend all your life’s leaks
and sharpen your psychological beak
to sing a new song
a better song that makes you strong
and believe you really belong

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


Man of honor
Alpha wisdom
Naturally peaceful
Dynamic and decent
Ever loving leader
Loyal leader of all times
An icon


Madiba Mandela Nelson
true emblem of reason,
an icon of all seasons,
which refused to die in prison.

you demonstrated rare leadership
a leadership of servant ship,
people spoke,
you gave an ear.

Monday, July 11, 2011


they were off
to bury their brother,
when it crashed
and killed their mother

others were merry
to a wedding,
when it fell from a descent
and they slept forever

Monday, July 4, 2011


I sat to write a different poem
A poem against my style
I sat to write a poem
A poem of love
I stopped to write about hate
The dictator and the bad system
The politics and the corruption

Monday, June 27, 2011


He came in a convoy
Phone use was criminalized
Security maximized
To declare that he fears no jail

He came in a convoy
They screamed,
To tell the same old story
He came in a convoy

Wednesday, June 22, 2011


If you are innocent avoid the police
They are no longer a police service
Instead, they are a police force

They beat, bash and burn
Button stick first
Questions last

Monday, June 13, 2011


I sat to write a different poem
A poem against my style
I sat to write a poem
A poem of love

I stopped to write about hate
The dictator and the bad system
The politics and the corruption

I stopped and reflected on me and them
I saw them walk the streets
With no home
No love
No shelter
No food
No representation

They meander without a cause
They flood the streets
You fear them
You hate them
You don’t even trust them

This poem is for the child on the African streets
When it’s cold like this
When life is tough like this
How do they survive?

Budgets are made
Budgets are presented
Yes the nation budgets
Nothing for the street kids

Spare some love brother
Why break to hearts?
When you can share your love,
with the child on the street?

They are on the streets
We care not for them
They don’t vote
They are Zimbabweans
What rights do they hold?

As we commemorate
The day of the African Child
Let us remember,
Afrika has children on the streets
Afrika has some who sleep with no blankets
No food
No love
No hug
With no one to care

As we commemorate,
Let us remember
Zimbabwe has street kids
Zimbabwe has no budget for the street child
Spare some love

I took some time to write
A different poem
Not my usual style
Where I speak of the man of office,
Who forgets his duties.
I will not speak of the political violence
I will charge on domestic violence
I will not speak of human rights
I will speak of children’s rights
I took sometime
To remember my brothers
And sisters on the streets

Love and let live
Live with love live
Love love to live
Live in love and love
Live to love my loved
Love lives to make live
Streets know no love
Streets know no respect
Peace and love Afrika
Peace and love Zimbabwe