The blind date was an eye opener
Dinner danced on the tips of our tongues
The conversation flowed
Wine wetted the appetite
Loosed our hang ups
Her lips covered in an audacious red
Company sparkling
The atmosphere pleasant
Awkward moments kept themselves to a bare minimum
The bill was settled by the gentleman
As we were about to part ways
Our lips met
She pulled me into her cab
Her apartment was cosy
Reminiscent of a country cabin
Our garments excused themselves
I parted her legs
Kissed her
Until she parted company with her senses
Her limbs climbed my torso like ivy on a perimeter wall
Didn’t know dessert would out do dinner
We danced until the wee hours
Didn’t know I was the dessert
The pudding was out of this world
Had seconds
Helped myself to some more
She was insatiable
In the morning we had an after party
Wish last night was every night

knox mahlaba
Copyright © 2016
Author of Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit


the future

Reading my palms like an encyclopaedia
Searching for a heads up on the future
The red paths on my white palms signalling a danger ahead
Streams of veins forming an intricate network
A complex highway interchange
Rubbing my hands in tentative anticipation of what’s to come
Society making us sick with its protocols
Forced to work all the time like farm labourers
Imprisoned by an unnatural pastime
In order to amass more than we need
Driving some of us crazy with depression and hypertension
Breaking our backs with stress fractures
A nervous breakdown one pill away
The most mentally deprived people are the normal ones
The perfect citizens with medical insurance and life assurance
Oblivious to the dangers of the mainstream
Voting for different people with the same corporate mandate
Life has no guarantees
Going back and forth like ants on the job
Whilst I am busy swinging gently like a pendulum
My tongue skiing on the slopes of my ice cream cone
Enjoying a cold treat in the middle of winter
Going against the grain
Watching society commit suicide
Placing people in a pressure cooker
Whilst the status quo cooks the books
Tempers with the history as it occurred
Contaminates the future of drinking water
Making my way back to the future
Returning to the ways of my ancestors
Securing the soul of my people
Peace of mind a greater priority
Far ahead of expensive real estate and it’s material appendages
Safeguarding what belongs to me in my ark
My rebellious mind depriving me of vanity
My roots anchoring me in anticipation of a great flood
When all the feeble people will be washed away
Washed away by pollution infested waters
The city can drive you crazy with its hustle and bustle
Losing your mind is acceptable
But losing your soul is a completely different chapter altogether

knox mahlaba
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit
Copyright © 2015

Photo: Walter Sisulu Botanical Gardens, Ruimsig, Johannesburg, South Africa


I leave my land
To live in a foreign land
Unlike my forebearers
I didn’t come here by ship
No shackles either
I flew here
Enticed by a scholarship
In search of knowledge
Intellectual capital
I leave my land
To live in faraway capitals
Lured by material
Entrenching a colonial path
Taught in an alien lingua franca
Forgetting language is a carrier of culture
Forgetting everywhere is overseas
I left my land
In search of an education
Only to return naked
Stripped of my perspective
My identity drowning in the oceans below
Am half the person I was before I left
Though I flew here
Like a free bird
I return with shackles in my mind
Like a caged bird

knox mahlaba
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit
Copyright © 2015


She giggled in my ear
I followed her queue
Matching her small steps with my strides
Eliminating each tier of the staircase
Her tight behind in sight
The hotel lobby below
Her motion was that of a lady
Very stylish
The suite surpassed expectations
She watched me disrobe
With the interest of a school girl’s eyes
Before helping herself
On her knees
In control
Her technique adequate
Her touch soft but strong
Working her magic
She fell off her tired knees onto her back
Throwing her feet into the air
The soft carpet cushioning the fall
I parted her limbs with my arms
Engulfing her sex with my mouth
My tongue was very particular
Blowing her like a saxophone
Before plastering her walls with love
Doing my best to wipe the smirk off her face
With persuasive thrusts
Penetrating her inner circle
Matching her every movement
With polite prods
All the way like Millie said
Bringing her body to its giggle
We laughed deep into the night

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2015
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit

one day

One day soon
In the distant future
In the near future
You’ll wake up
Wake up to the fact of the madness
Appreciate the choreography of your surroundings
Your mirror image dancing on the stage
You on some reality show
Your reflection staring at you
Looking you straight in the eye
You’ll open your eyes for a change
Wake up to the guise of reality
The reality of the illusion
The tightness of the blindfold
The after taste of propaganda
Until then
Enjoy the slumber

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit

paper boy

I mean no malice
Am no structural engineer
Preferring organised chaos
Weaving baskets
Anticipating magic
Chosen by loose fitting words
No millionaire either
Silver and gold pollute the soul
Compromising the writer
Contaminating truth
A merchant of a better tomorrow
More like a paper boy
Delivering unwanted news
Yelling at the top of my voice
Crying wolf it seems
Nobody listening
Everyone waiting for the echo
The voice of the mountains
Like a long forgotten word
Biding my time
Never losing my integrity
My meaning
You see my plight
I can only hope

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit

breaking news

News flash on the screen
Lies on the airwaves
Tear gas clouds in the air
Taste the bitterness in the air
Tired of make believe

They never gonna love us
Truth a bitter pill
Make believe is killing us
Unity the only choice
Being black and powerful the only hope
Fight power with power

All these events
Current and past
Familiar like an old southern ballad
Dixie is a state of mind
Growing in a quiet field of ignorance
Under the shade of Maple and Magnolia
Under the guise of law and order
Lost count of the collateral damage

Marching to a different tune
In another funeral procession
Billie singing the blues
Burying another accident of the men in blue
Black children are still ‘Strange Fruit’

Nothing’s gonna change
Victim mentality bears no fruit
Change begins with you
My spirit stronger than ignorance
Removing bitterness from my lips
Making history

Sowing love with greater accuracy
My kind taking priority
Tired of make believe
Spreading knowledge
My words mightier than bullets

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014
Author – Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit