Chop-Change

by Bandile Gumbi

Fast Forward
To pressure cooker
Cockiness

Born free
In a microwave
A figure on a leash
Of another micro-economics scheme
Domesticated
By the silverscreen
A dog
With a god complex

Swallowed a placebo
Drank half emptiness
Shooted-up
Powdered wet dreams

They raised their asses to the camera and farted in the west
The stench still lingers
In our southern palates

As we drink black naked beauty
With our café laite
While stroking our weave
In the name of independence

We're definitely stuck
Between the s's
Of assimilation

A banana is an exotic fruit in Africa
When chasing
Coconut dreams

I've learned to make do with plenty
Worshippers of the scarce rarities
Might as well
Take the backseat burner

They say on this one-day
A camouflaged chameleon
Crowned in plastic thorns
Claimed the thrown of a lion

They play games with hyenas
On their playstations
Bombed-out
Bombarded
In blasphemy

My girl-child fear and I
Have since had a one on one
On issues of faith and power
Joined the procession
To our god mother courageous

These days
I pen this revolution with an anxiety
Of a timid bastard child
Of political correctness
With my tail on fire
Before the hunters
Of the funky and hip
Fit my soul into a hipster
Auction the Word
For plastic smiles and
Chop –Change