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Three Poems by Kalahari Marrakesh

A Turbulence of a Spinning Tsunami

For coloured girls who love the spinning of a Gusheshe

The distance between Hanover Park &
Eldorado Park
is marked with a
synchronicity of townships.

Stacy-lee May spins her BMW 325i gusheshe
like a trembling turbulence of a tsunami.
Doughnut girl engulfed in flames;
from Soweto to Mannenberg,
gravel road to gravel road –
spinning herself to exile,
drift girl stomping her pedal to the metal,
power steering effortlessly flowing,
a daredevil behind the wheel.

Queen of smoke,
fearlessly spinning herself to Maghreb,
drifting herself to heaven;
drifting like she is ready to kick the bucket,
hungry for smoke,
Stacy-lee May –
a dynamite in a benky.
Dushi ghel
high as fly.

Gunz And Rozez

Roses are red.
But guns,
guns aren’t
blue baby.

My father
was gunned
down out of
the blue.
In the noon,
a noon
of blunderbuss.
My eyes
glueing
unto his
bloodshed.

Leaking through
his eyelids,
red tears were wrecking
his wrinkled face.
Suddenly,
he had become
extinct,
A turbulence
of penance.

My father had
died long ago.
Archeologists
unearthed his
remains & claimed
he had lived
thousands
of deaths ago,
many,
many moons
before
we were
light-years
ahead.

Laid to rest,
buried inside a
paradigm
paradise,
where
gravestones are
parallel like a
parallelogram,
guns & roses
still
lay
on
his
tombstone.

A Dessert Of Death

For Nombuso Mkhwebane after being incarcerated for wrecking vocabulary and smuggling of poetry inside mayonnaise jars.

From exile
armed with vocabulary.
nombuso mkhwebane
a mbokodo woman in her own right,
a guerilla warfare practitioner,
a foot-soldier but also a princess
urban mosadi type of revolution,
but oh her revolution,
her revolution would not be televised.
her revolution could bring azania to its knees,
her revolution could brew a breathing living thing.
a tsunami-inspired revolution
unsung & erased
the public consciousness unaware,
nombuso mkhwebane
a wager of war,
a resister uprooted from tar.
the one who drinks cognac with a jar.