My frame of mind fractured
Am struggling with my mission
Enduring a great difficulty
Living without an anchor
I as a man am incomplete
Needing a piece of a puzzle
Living without you jeopardizing our existence
For without you
Queen of queens
My soul restless like the rustling wind
Wandering aimlessly in a desert
Searching for my resting place amongst thorns
I as a man am incomplete without my woman
My black star on the horizon
My rock of understanding
My oasis
Pillar of strength why do you forsake me
Discard me to the wolves
Leaving me for dead on a dirt road behind enemy lines
Scattering my pleas across the plains
Yearning for a fertile patch
A place to grow love
Irrigate our union with tears of joy
Sending my cries from atop a lonely mountain
Listen to the echo carried by the wind
I as a man am an incomplete being
Save me from wine, women and song
Nubian princess are you there

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


angel dust

Initially, intrigued by it
Your sense of beauty
A deep devotion to your craft
Your addiction to it
A declaration of the heart

Your nimbleness an advantage
Watching you float about
Sprinkle your magic
Everything you touch
Laying the golden egg

Breathing life into your surroundings
Maybe you’re an elf
A strong sense of things beautiful
Blessed with ability to landscape
The world your playroom
Making a garden out of nothing

A pot-pourri of imagery
A mirror image of the heart
An x-ray of the brain

My heart celebrating
Excited to see its fraternal twin
Though birthed by different wombs
You and I share lineage
Our complexions may vary
Yet our spirits are enchanted by the same melody
An orchestra of stringed instruments
They dance together in our sleep

A fraternal twin
Birthed of a different womb
Whose heart sings the same tune

Both instruments of the same craft
Tattooed by the same ink
Brightening the darkest of days

A friendship blossoms
My kindered spirit
Touched by your wand
Makes me wonder

If you’re an angel
An instrument of God
Cos you could decorate heaven
My heaven at the very least…

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014
(featuring: Gráinne Floinn-Uí Ó Bhriain)


I pierce through stubborn terrain every morning
Cycle back through the grasslands in the afternoon
Our dilapidated school is a luxury in these parts
Most of my peers are cattle herders like their great grandfathers
Somehow they are able to count
And know every plant in the vicinity
Only attending the school at the top of the mountain

I don’t like school much
Teachers always talking about everywhere but here
I love the challenge of getting to school
The weather gets to add to the excitement
Periodically reminding me that the heavens can be unforgiving
When you’re going downhill on wet gravel
You get to understand gradient in your mother tongue
I take my chances with caution
There’s no emergency number here
Unless you regard a congress of baboons as paramedics
Or expect a pack of hungry lions to forgo a happy meal

Despite the dangers
I still have to get an education
I no longer want to be a doctor
Ebola kills all and sundry
Irrespective of qualifications
Nor do I want to be president
The soldiers have a tendency to run amok
Shooting the president for looting state coffers
Shooting the president for refusing foreign aid

I just want to be a well of knowledge
Like the old man in the village
Keep history stacked beneath the white of my hair
Watch the cycle of events unfold like an avid soccer fan
Tell stories to generations like the commentator on the wireless
Give perspective to the passing of time
Like the old man with a white crown
Grow old like a baobab

Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014

Author of: Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit

Sooner or Later

The wind howling
Blasting away sand particles suspended in the air
Grain by grain The Sphinx is scalped
A wonder of the world betrayed by nature
Who am I to contemplate an escape
Having little chance to withstand nature’s wrath
A mere mortal exposed to the ferocity of the elements
Nature always wins
Seldom kind
In demise purpose fulfilled
Caught in the eye of a tornado
Twisting and turning against my will
Lost in the scheme of things
Awaked by gale forces
The spirits blowing zest into a shadow of myself
Trapped by ulterior motives
Nature eroding footprints in the sand
Begging the dice with soft breath
Blowing my winnings
Edging foward like a sand dune
A crab on its back on beach sand
Lawrence of Arabia an epic example
Demanding traits wanting more
Not satisfied with a mere existence
Wanting a spectacle
Unable to escape the claws of a character
Swallowed by a figment of my imagination
Standing in the wind
Eyes closed
The sandstorm is bound to cease
Sooner or later
Another opportunity will present itself
The body a tent in a desert
Within lies an oasis
Even nature tires at some point
Sooner or later
Maybe not tomorrow
Or the day after
A reprise is scheduled by the heavens
Sooner or later


Copyright © knox mahlaba 2014

Author of: Back From The Dead: The Rising of an African Spirit