luvuyo gqamane Poems

Hear the stories for told, by mirrors of ancestral realms.
Listen to the rhythms painting reflection of heaven for every father who grooms a son to be a real man.
Hear gentle palms turn to iron fists, fists that beat the flesh of women till blood spill.
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She is the evidence of a drunk fathers rage, with her abusive father she waits for sign of relief, bruises lie on her body, her tears drip and dropp on the floor, the time ticks and tocks for never ending pain,

is this an illusion or destruction, how could he destroy her future with so much dedication, she is just a girl with primary education.
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Judge me not
Judge me for who I am
I was born from the genes of a domestic worker
And I’m the offspring of a garden boy
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does beauty have a name?
that we behold and claim,
that one could be and another not?
if we held the flesh fleeting skin would it not reveal its decay?
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Ain’t doing no nothing
But thinking about this beauty
that warm smile- showing those glittering teeth
Those shining eyes- reflecting the sunrise
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MAMA’S SACRIFICE
There are times I look deep into the mist of my soul, I get scared, It’s me the homeless guy sleeping in the far Shaws of the city, Admiring the beauty of nature
No one seems to care or bothered if I had something to fill the stomach grumblings or a blanket on my back to protect me from the cold, There are times like these when ones voice is no longer heard and he has no choice but to give up all hope, for no one shows love since the death of the pope. But can one like me say I’m stranded in this world filled with poverty, am I suppose to throw the towel? Is it over?
I reminisce but just a few years back me and mama living in a tiny one room, a room dilapated and cold, worrying that any minute someone might attack; it was then that my black nose got the smell, the brutal scent of the wicked rose
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