Mthabisi Sithole's Poems


 Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 2, Number 2. November 2019. ISSN: 2581-7094




Sensible design
Paradise pallets paradise
backdoor scrap markets with a vice
paradise and black-lights out from scrolling through crap paradise.
A sensible district design, paradise liberated charisma paradise liberal mood-lighting device, moon’s shine on the garden.

Paradise, the pacing sunset left you breathless. Paradise rallies the troops under the influence, networks anti-social crack, litters the archive; cosy between our palms. Parardise looks like a thread marching to communion.

-so and so has left the chat-

Paradise, post-imaginary and never surrender
Paradise play sullen
Paradise were you sad?
Paradise solidarity
Paradise injustice
Paradise love
Paradise pose
Paradise jade
Paradise vibe
Paradise outrage suggestion box
Paradise trend and breakdown

-paradise shared your vows-

Paradise lonely island fix
Paradise with footnotes for every hymn
Paradise has learned a nihilistic diction for all our beautiful things
Paradise gets you off white with hooks
and colourways to drag you right back by the senses
Paradise can now scribble in your doctors’ cursive
Paradise paradise paradise
You’ve got to be well-read to move

-from addiction to prescription-

Paradise, for fiends with a taste for nice things,
For revolution
Paradise, post-imaginary and back to never surrender
Paradise, airbrush
Paradise, no image goes live otherwise



Plunder

paid no mind to the limp of conscience
that sad shuffle, presuming naivety buried
it leaves behind the wound of an impish ego

there is reasoning to doubt the mist
-the shower’s mirrors, the affirming drizzle -
woke to counting drops as dawns
only the rose, bud and apparition with the speedpoint
-recognize self in the clamor-

make room to vanish
to be silent
unseen, unheard
to the shadow who stutters
Who, like the dew and self
Like the rose and bud
Who, like the candle and match
on plunder’s terror, lingers
all steam, all day and ash after
these eyes were younger then
they look too composed
seem to never smile
feel deranged, unkind
sexless dissonance dressed in rhymes
They are no mascots of wonder. Compassionate reflection is a privilege only the deceased cherish.