Four poems by Dambudzo Marechera

The Bar-Stool Edible Worm

I’m against everything
Against war and those against
War. Against whatever diminishes
Th’ individual’s blind impulse.

Shake the peaches down from
The summer poem, Rake in ripe
Luminosity; dust; taste. Lunchtime
News – pass the Castor Oil, Alice.



There’s a Dissident in the Election Soup!

I have no ear for slogans
You may as well shut up your arse
I run when it’s I LOVE YOU time
Don’t say it I’ll stick around
I run when it’s A LUTA time
I run when it’s FORWARD time
Don’t say it we’ll fuck the whole night
The moon won’t come down
At first awkwardly, excruciatingly embarrassing
But with Venus ascending, a shout and leap of joy

When the sheets are at last silent
Don’t ask “What are you thinking?”
Don’t ask “Was it good?”
Don’t feel bad because I’m smoking
They ask and feel bad who are insecure
Who say after the act “Tell me a story”
And you may as well know
Don’t talk of “MARRIAGE” if this reconciliation
is to last.



Did You Ask What’s Wrong with War?

There are no wrong words, right?
There are no wrong trees, right?
There is no wrong sand, right?
I’ve slept the world in freely
Dreamed I buggered all the little boys
who are future leaders
Fucked all the funny little girls made of
thatch and ghandy
My anarchist arse has shat on society
And LOOK millions of open flies
are homing in on your wide-open lips.



Comrade Dracula Joins the Revolution: A
Wedding of Minds

For something to do let’s forever walk this
Circle they call marriage (forever presumes neither
Beginning nor end) The rigmarole of vows is over.
Remember god allows himself the freedom to be the
Of a circle whose circumference is everywhere (What
Cynicism!)  With caution & luck we too can be the image
Of him.  Love like history is bunk.  Hence let your
        attractions range
Free – I have no such intentions with humans at least.
You in this world will dally to surfeit
While I with the dead whose tombs are my brothels
Will oil passion’s stiff joints.  Do not be alarmed:
As they say A LUTA CONTINUA even beyond the
        serried graves.

fotografia de Bamba, Luandafotografia de Bamba, Luanda

Translation:  José Pinto de Sá

by Dambudzo Marechera
Mukanda | 14 January 2011 | Dambudzo Marechera