Thursday, November 27, 2008

tired of african rubbish.

all gone,
lived through guns, smoke, graves.
glory turned grief in wake of grenades in Goma,
rosy petals turn yellow in pail hunger that eats out man's intestines,
shrugs them, leaving a stench of faeces filled with cholera Mugabe's villages.
questions become headlines in the place of gossip that is secret.

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