James Dwalu

TALKING DOGS

The acrid scent fills the air
Near the garbage heap
We held our breath
Walking single file
A dog sniffed, bit and pulled
A piece of flesh from the heel and swallowed
“That man has been dead for a week”,
A woman spoke
“They said he was not their tribe
And shot him twice”
The second dog came
Sniffed and licked the skin off the skull
The first dog growled;
“Grrr Grrr
Get away
This is my find”
The second dog replied,
“Brother, let us behave like humans now
For they have taken our place
Let us share with one another
You see them watching us
Don’t let them know
That we are Talking Dogs”
First dog spoke again,
“Leave them alone to kill their brothers.”
A fighter came by
Two bursts from his gun
Both dogs fell
First dog’s soul to second dog’s soul,
“Now our troubles are over
Man will eat man”

 

CAN WE BE MEN AND NOT CRY

As African men, we are not suppose to cry
When we have problems
Or when crazy men wear national emblems
Or when our friends desert us
We are taught to endure and not fuss
But how can we hold our tears and not cry
When we lose our fathers and mothers
Siblings, wives, and children
At the hands of rockets and grenades
That shredded their bodies
Like hungry leopards
Splashing their blood like careless painters
How then can we be men and not cry
When we see dogs feasting on the bodies
Of their masters
When girls and boys become soldiers
Killing their own parents
When rockets shout demonic shouts
Leaving us shaking with fear
Can we still be men with hearts and souls
And not cry

 

I AM NOTHING (Neutrality)

I am the cold light peering from afar
The cold rivers flowing smooth
The calm oceans; smoothly sailing ships
And feeding men
The bee that makes honey
I am the one who sometimes loves
I am the hot light
Burning your head as you labor
The flooded rivers
Breaking your bridges, blocking your paths
The rough oceans;
Sinking ships and drowning men
The one who sometimes hates
I am the bee that stings
I am the one who some hate and
The one who some love
When I offend you I am called a bad person
When I do good to another I am a good person
To some I am good; to some I am bad
To me I am nothing

 

DEMOCRACY IS POETRY

The way women
Handle the fanner
Lay their heads
And go;
Chec kee chec chec chec-chec!
Chec kee chec chec chec-chec!
Chec kee chec chec chec-chec!
Chec kee chec!
Chec kee chec!
Chec kee chec!
The rice grains dancing
Back and forth
The big grains letting
The smaller grains go forward
In a frantic show
Of love and care
Confuses a wicked tyrant
But for the poet
It is poetry
It is democracy

 

Copyright © 2008 James Dwalu