Gaboronometry (Blows without Gloves)

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Gaboronometrics of this economy
dictates that the pula must pull away
Power of the shilling –
The shilling clink-clanks,
Doses off, lulls,
The shilling silenced in wet pula
Because pula means rain,
So it reigns.
In Gaborone,
Corruption is a dog
And a bitch…
Found mating in the dark
And brought to light,
By the roadside
And on to the road…
To do doggy-style
In broad daylight
So the cantankerous canter
May crash the dog and its bitch
Dodging gods who come to cleanse
Paths to prosperity.

The other path
Is ruled by red-eyed blue-blooded bazooka-wielding by-standers
With bazookas for anthem call paid by terrible trumpeters
The cricket’s crochet-beat ricochets inside stray bullets
Bazookas blow like terrible trumpets, like microphones
Like necrophones for the lost street soldiers forced
to die with wet eyes from teargas
Vote Power! Veto Power! V-Power!
Fuel the media with propaganda
So they shall report: the moron
Was last seen in Gaboron(e)…

We Men Celebrate Women

african woman

We men,
are powerless without women.
Women console our soul, women conceal our sin
Women revive our glory, women survive our story
They are keys to our heart, they are crayons to our art
They are wind in the tide, without them we are tied
Women, for we men, are our lifetime guide.
We men,
are with no strength without women.
The African woman suffers from hope:
She’s bold, she’s dutiful; she’s gold, she’s beautiful
Her genial smile is sanctuary to we men,
She brings forth we men, breastfeeds we men,
She rocks the cradle of we men, and we men become rocks!
We men,
are powerless without women.
At the touch of love, we men become complete
when her heart shuts, we men become desolate
love is the other way evil, without women
without women love is obsolete
because women console our soul, women conceal our sin
Women revive our glory, women survive our story
They are keys to our heart, they are crayons to our art
They are wind in the tide, without them we are tied
Women, for we men, are everything in this ride