Conspiring Visions

Walking Is Still Honest Press

Two poems
by Dime Maziba
Night falls under
The streams of eyeballs
To trench flayed sky
Like a wild ghost of oceans
Like conspiring visions,
Anger of charred famine
Will die of scattered politician’s courage
With sorrel leaves of sahara
If only cedar beds could
Stumble on baying fire
And spurts bouquets of sun
We could wipe our salty tears
With handcuff of hope
I thought an amulet of beams
To breathe the spreading
Perfume of my people liberation
Monsieur priest,
Will this loaded strings
Of plastic beads
Glide my sun-clouding continent?
Exit or Exile?
After their lullaby
of electoral campaign
Liberation songs
will prevail the psalms.
The effigy of the dictator,
Wiping the toilet seats of poor people.
Why politicians do not
Differentiate exit and exile?
Do their spellings matter?
When it’s Arab Spring in…

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