Gaboronometry (Blows without Gloves)


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)…


For my mother Mary and all loving mothers in the world. Penned with lots of love from Sidang’

Mama was the motion of my tongue
lifted it, the very first word, I sang.
Spoken, for the very first time…
Mama was the Spoken Word.
She made ‘ta-ta’ sound so sweet
as I toddled on my feeble feet.

In the depth of Mama’s heart
was found the beautiful art
of making me laugh and smile again
e’en when hurt by my incurable curiosity.
She made ‘nyandolo’ sound so sweet
as I tiptoed in dreamland tucked in my sheet.

Mama’s arms stretched ere I could fall
when she cried her tears reversed to her soul
She was strong in the face of adversity
Always loving and living, caring and sharing.
She made ‘hello’ sound so sweet
as I muttered words to those who came to visit.