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Lusekelo Simwela

My Pain, My Pen

My pain has no bounds
My pen knows no boundaries
My pain drives me
Shows me pathways unknown
My pen stops me,
From treading in place where angels fear

My pain is temporary
But my pen is eternal
That's what pen tells my pain
Pain is home,
But so is my pen
A home away from home
A home that is earth
The place full of pain

So I retreat from it
And lock myself away
Pen in my hand
And pain in my heart

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Made In Malawi

Factory works 24 hours, never ending,
Production checks are done every now and then
Emergency pills and abortions
Those lucky enough will make it to the end of the assembly line
But no warranty is given
Birth mortality rate on the rise

If that doesn't get you malaria or AIDS will be on your neck
But don't quiver you might make it
Maintenance should be made regularly
Food for the body,
Bible for the soul
But even that is scarce
Food prices on the rise

And the country turned Godless
Homos and lesbians on the prowl
The product expires at 42
The Whiteman's math says that
But still raise your head up high

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Tassie's Pain

Blood everywhere, watching it trickle down my hand;
My heart beating faster:

Pain is love...
Pain is feeling, feeling of hurt coursing through my body
Captivating me... invigorating in its own sense;

Pain is lovely...
Love is pain and pain is love but its pain to my body and my body is my temple,
And its bleeding from the inside...
Cutting it felt like an escape but it was doing the opposite,
Kind of like locking myself out and throwing away the key

Pain is adrenaline,
That never ending rush that never satisfy
But where does pain come from?
Why does it never end? Will it never end?

Pain is amazing,
It's like rotten grapes, but isn't that what wine really is? They say that's good for me, pain must be good too,

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