Born to Die | Die to be Born

If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.

Napoleon Hill



Oh Tell Me!

Bold baby born into a world so black
It lacks the ability to be bright.
Where in every bad trade there is a mad jack
Ready to steal your smile in the night,
So that he can hide it in his room-
Where everyday he plots your doom.


How in your ignorance you have the sense
To be happy and not like an old man tense
Because he will soon step into his grave
And enter back into mother natures womb.
Whilst you many a year have to be brave
To save the hearts of ladies from the tomb.


I’ll Tell You!

Old man who’s weak hands hold me in his frail arms
Who’s back lacks the strength to stand tall and straight
And who smells of the stink that shall always bait
The lovely lady death to come your way.
As she’s been attracted to all your charms
So she’ll make you for your long life pay.


That i’m happy because long have i been dead
In our mothers womb that’s also a tomb
And i’d forgotten how much life has to give.
Until now when i was born again
Into a world in which there’s much to smile for.

Lazarus Shatipamba

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Buy me a pen and paper?

Nothing To Fear

Either you run the day, or the day runs you.

Jim Rohn

Are you aware?

That life is a dream
That is actually a nightmare.

But that if,
You face your fears-

You’ll realize,
There’s nothing to be scared of.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Lazarus Shatipamba

Buy me a pen and paper?

They Sold Us

Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.

Mahatma Gandhi

They sold us beauty in a bottle.

They said it would throttle our ugly
So that we all can look like a model
Striding slowly, up-down the runway.



They sold us beauty in a bottle.

They said that if girls grow long the hair
On their heads and on their eye lashes,
It would make all the boys start to stare-
And their desire to rise from the ashes.


They sold us beauty in a bottle.

And said the oil – in it would spoil
The tough toils of scars ploughing our face,
To sow seeds of ugly in the fertile soil
That so seek to make us a disgrace.


They sold us beauty in a bottle.

And said it would throttle our ugly.
Yet i’m not sure if it worked on me
For although i look like a model
I still don’t feel attractive at all.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

No Silence From Violence

We’re all people man! Why you gotta hate?


People of my brethren
Fighting among themselves
In the country that borders
The one i was born in.

Black on black violence
I’ve been stunned into silence.

So watch on in ambivalence
As the ambulance driven by a white man
Sings it’s sad siren song.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

This poem was inspired by the recent xenophobic attacks that have transpired in South Africa as well as in Zimbabwe.

I am lost for words so i don’t have much to say, hence i just preferred to pen this poem and publish it with a wish that all forms of violence will diminish.

Tears That Try To Be Tough

The real secret of patience is to find something to do in the meantime.


We humans

Have been blessed by the Gods up high in the sky with a home as fertile and tranquil as our beautiful blue earth.

For many many many a millennia, our ancestors have never lived in fear that this world of ours will one day shed a tear because she fears she might not make it into the near future.

Yet how dear things appear to be now, the state of our current circumstance is as dire as a fighter losing his stance in an all important championship bout with an opponent ready to break his hip.

The rains have now developed an attitude so shy that they now try to stray as far away from us as possible, in aim to drown us in drought.

The once courageous clouds now cry whenever they have to fight smoke particles in the sky in contention for the right to rule the skies.

The sun is hotter than she is supposed to be, because she is so pissed at us for f**king up her husband – the earth.

Our oceans are rising up against this injustice of dumping waste into their depths, which makes me pray that i’m not here when things do get violent.

Whilst sitting behind my stool in the library trying not to appear a fool, i have sometimes wondered what it is has led to the overall drastic decline in the beauty and habitability of our home.

When was it that we decided to stop caring for our natural environment?

In the industrial revolution that so brought about our evolution on a technological scale, yet so endorsed the pollution of the air that we breathe, the water we drink and the soil we deeply sleep in when we rest at our time of death?

I can’t help but think how paradoxically detrimental it is that we kill our own environment in our efforts of living longer lives.

Even me,

I am not a bystander in this for many a time have i smoked a joint by the lake, just to take my thoughts of the conundrum we find ourselves in.

Will we manage to reduce and reverse the adverse effects of all our commercial activities or will i – just like the Earth right now – shed a tear because i will not be here if our beautiful blue earth is not here?