Pretence Poem by Ishmael Mabhiza

My heart melts
My mind is disturbed
All my days I have never
Eaten the fruits
Fruits of the promised lands
Votes is all they ask
But never put themselves to task
Nor ask each other why they fail

My hands are bruised
My knuckles are weak
But all they want
Is for me to work
But never wake.
They want me dead
Dead From jobs
Jobs they promissed
But never deliver.


The mysteries of life
Never stop
But always show up
To kill my dreams
And all we see
Are politicians
Hitting each other
For a vote for them to loot.


When Shall I eat
The fruits of the promised land
When shall see the gate
We were ever promised
When shall feel the freedom sprees