Marikana Beach

By Xolani Shezzi

Baby vulture! Come get chubby!
Make sure to call mama and papa vulture, too.
We are going to the beach
To surf on the blood of the dead.
Hurry up! Hurry up! We can’t afford to be late!

Grandpa vulture, what’s all this madness?
Why have you summoned the whole family?
Do you not see the time?
Don’t say that we’re dreaming, mama vulture!
We have a gala to attend – the paparazzi shall be present, too.
Get ready to spread your wings, flap them freely.
Make sure to bring a pair of sharpened knives, forks and napkin.
Hooray! Hooray! We shall have a blast!

Indeed, we have found Eden.
Blood shall be shed – we shall swim in it.
What more can we ask for?
Skinny vulture, stop asking silly questions!
No wonder you’re thin.
They are only miners –it is their duty to be slaves;
It’s their god-given calling
Yet now they dare to challenge their masters.
“Better pay! We want better pay!”
Better pay?

Now look at their pangas, balaclavas, buckets of magic.
This is Africa, right? Yes!
Indeed these bastards are dom – and doomed.
How can they possibly expect to win such a war?
Let us joyfully circle above.

Grandpa vulture, why are the policemen sweating?
Are they afraid to pull the triggers?
Afterwards the minister of police will take sick-leave.
Probably…

Tagged with:
Posted in Poetry
A Call for Submissions: Johannesburg in Poetry