Anita Chiganze

21 (twenty one)

The mere concept of life i cannot grasp.  (sigh)
I thought by going through puberty,
finishing high school, having my first…
My firsts were always so pivotal.
It meant that everything i now do and re-expierence
Can now be classified as ‘deja vu’.
My ending to this realisation was that i will forever question my existence.
 The past lives had something to do with this mental state. Well,
actually,FAAAHHHH(curses) DNA…
Worst thing is that i do not know myself at all, the grapevine knew more
It seemed to branch out to me more than what i had.
I guess wandering is all i know.
I was never meant to be.
I will never be happy. (i catch myself)
I will never accept that ending, i have a purpose, God takes the useless not the willing.
He has a resemblance to my mother.
(stares)
(Don’t tell her i said that)
I’m not trying to kill myself, but i am killing myself.
It all ended when it began.
That’s what 21 feels like…..

 The beauty of ignorance
How lucky you are to have grown up in an age where you do not realise how unAfrican you are.
To have known how to speak a language that is unrelateable to the soil.
To have never known your  brothers’ native names but i guess it’s for history, fairy-tale and comedy to you.
To be left with no curiosity to learn the forgotten alphabet in which to tell of your history.
 How lucky you are to have known an age of globalisation without judgement.
To be allowed to learn something your mother does not know is truly remarkable.
To have taken a leap past the age of neighbourly bartering to know an age where currency determines who you interact with.
To be left with the scepticism of commodity if does not come from a capitalised brand that the Bohemian club endorses.
How lucky you are to have known a world that is more digital.
To have been told of life through logs,
To know someones life through a photo and think that filters are mere age.
To have never known a life that gold has no value and to think golden globals are endowment.

Now let the old dogs speak….

You now call us dogs,
Forgetting that the colour of your skin comes from the soil we ploughed.
We gave you the land full of pharmaceuticals so that maybe we can heal the years of rampage.
You took it and ran with it.
You chose to forget our history and you thought a book could fill  in the ancient language, as if you vile ravaged creatures could ever
Go back and rewrite the hieroglyphics…
Have you wondered why the pyramids can never fall or be built again?
Because you chose to forget how to to curl your tongue and pen yourself up to us and accept us as your blood.
Though we gave you your skin wrapped in lion’s skin.
You think you have slayen us but we banished you.
You are truly the new type of specimen.
What intelligence tells you that you can take and not give back.
 You continue to take from the soil and never give back.
Keep digging this soil and all you will inevitably reach is our skulls
When that happens you will know that death is not fictitious.
Just as many of us are dust, now… but we reached the grave with days to spare
Your days are forever measured and pressured as if a time zone can tell you what time of the day it is.
If a person can presumed dead at any time of the day- be it day noon and night -then what does that tell you?
The time is not moving you living in a time where history repeats itself.
Trust us when we say, that gold was made over time and we have been sitting on it all our lives.
It is a sad truth that you our children are sitting on it too but you do not know it.
The gold we found didn’t get its value from the black market.
It got it from us the African market.
We breed excellence because we lived an excellent life not one of facade.
We knew who to fear, not these fake gods you have today.
We lived a life of prosperity that we survived so long that we saw dinosaurs fall, religious elevate and energy destroy.
Thus do not hate us for your ignorance because it hurts us more.
Be at bliss with your ignorance because it will hurt you even more to realise that you will never know the golden age.


Man

We saw the end before we could end ourselves
That is what scared us
that is why you drunk a bottle and filled it with your tears
You started to search for another end but inevitability
Mocked you

An angel will never save you but it ill help you walk to the end in peace
Raise the white flag high enough to blind your vision
A facade of seeing the ‘light’
The mistake was you thought that Death came in black

Darkness never deceived you
It was clear that it would not allow you to see
But now you hate it because it pointed out the obvious
And you do not want to believe mankind is foolish

The Oracle told you from the beginning that we are the omega
we are the Apocalypse, shameless in our existence
we are to bring ultimate devastation, rather than allowing generations go through pain
we would rather prolong our plague

Looking for Mars and Venus as if War and Love has ever morphed
Hypocritical contradictory manipulators that do not respect
the Cosmic prestige
Understand we are not stars
We are mere blemishes on a flawless planet

In the actual end, do you think
Perhaps, our own judgement will be strong enough
To kill us
Even before Hell and Heaven have time to save us?IMG-20160801-WA0012



 

Name: Anita Chiganze (The Wanderer)

Medium:Poetry and Prose

Location: South Africa

Nationality : Zimbabwean

Age:20

Photo Credit : Andrea Green- Thompson

About the work:

 As young Africans in a world where there is no definition and the constant question of who are we and what are we becoming is prevalent. My work show cases that journey. the work is personal, its scary its not for applause but for realisation. My poetry is an outlet that has saved me but in the process has forced me to kill different beings and affliction from within. To me this dark melody of hope is my salvation and enjoyment.

 

Contact: anita.chiganze@gmail.com

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