Knock Knees (Belladona II)

I let her pass then pace up my stroll,admiring the below her thighs part of her limbs where knees bend in for a quick kiss when she walks; like collapsing pillars under the weight of her beauty.
I grasp hold of her chubby wrist,
…the connection of our epidermis igniting electric sparks with audible clicks,a gasp escape my lips…
My skinny frame feels suddenly too heavy for my knees,as my throbbing heart threatens to rupture my ribs.
Time take a knee for a moment, while my rationality abscond with my ability of speech.
Numb and mute, i let her free…and watch her leave.

Poetry Monarch.

: Africa Zwelibanzi ’18

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Her gait.

As if tired of carrying all that voluptuous beauty on herself..
She moves,
Slumberous …
.. with clumsy finesse ,
Her thigh long locks adorned with colourful beads moves in accordance with her every hip sway.
Her limbs carry her body like obedient lackeys…

….the rhythm of her strides, a nature choreographed gait.
As graceful as a well fed feline.

Poetry Monarch.

Chronicles Of A Petrol Attendant.

The Broody Hen (A Narrative )

Conversations With The Notepad.

Mwandishi (Misconception Of Masculinity)

He is a libertine who lost his character in acts of a self proclaimed master of polygamy,
He changes maidens with assorted boxes of delicacy, blowing wealth intended to be a legacy,
While he whisper sweet nothings to his mistresses under these trees in the orchards in illegimate amatory, home is where he carries his physical brutality,
Haunted by the conscience of his infidelity,
….he rupture bones, puncture ribs,
Strangle his wife while his daughter watch to emphasise his supremacy
“I am the head of this house!!” he addresses aggressively,with the boot of his treachery he tramples her dignity.
Submissively,she bows before his misconception of masculinity
She hugs her daughter firmly and whispers
“Excuse his corroding humanity, love is strength and ability. A heart that forgives suffer the less misery.” her voice tremors with agony,
Mwandishi weeps for her Mother with sympathy,
Seven years after her birth, witnessing first the side of marriage that drips with cruelty,she made an internal promise to forever despise the knots of matrimony.

Broody Hen (A Narrative)

Mwandishi Trilogy.

© Copyrights reserved 2018

Lovebite

love_bites_by_the_tireless

….bite at her neck and gain territory, melt the sleet on her cold heart in sparking chemistry… Make her inhibitions evaporate with heated intimacy ,weaken her knees and compel her instinctive guards to join your infantry…

Sink the tip of your fingers on her flesh delicately,nibble on her earlobes and whisper erotic absurdity…

Twerk her nipples ,till sensation ripples and trembles her entire physicality…

Quell her internal itching, make her squirm ,till she claw and evoke her Felinity,

Demarcate her neck with embroidery of hickies and seed her fertility with a love legacy.

Broody Hen.

A Narrative.

©copyright reserved -Afrika Zwelibanzi.

Casualties Room


She sits across me in a hospital waiting room one morning,

Her cheeks are crimson tenders of red with magical dimples ,delicate landscapes of concaves..
..her eyes are crystal hugeness, beaded like glaring convex..
You can see them vertebrate ,ciliary muscles taut to accommodate distance..
..I can’t fathom the depths of this  trance ,she occasionally steals me a glance…little Tinkerbells doing back flips in her lens ….muscles slack she blushes, as if between her retina and optical nerve exist a Kingdom of fairies ,the side of her cheeks hollows ..her lip flowers blooms ,her decay infested teeth glows….sparks on the spectacles firmly fixed down the bridge of her nose….
” Africa….Africa…”
In a distance,echoes of her luring voice…
“Africa…” It gets hoarse,I wake up..
Shaken by a psychiatrist nurse,
“You’re are next.”
…across me, in the wall is a chart of a muscled skeletal of a woman.

Africa.