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by Staff Writer
How much longer will Motlanthe
allow migrants like hearing a song’s end
and see Mugabe's corpses
swarming through Limpopo river.
Corpses scrambling out of Zimbabwe
gasping for fresh air, while South Africans
squirm from this encroaching pestilence.
Some of which makes it to high ground.
But what habitation, what work
will they find? Only a few
melting through to the top.
And the rest, is a frigid motley-lot.
Huddled along the tarred roads.
Waiting for a day's cleaning job
or to fix and fit, load and unload
some rich man’s looty-booty.
Crowds standing shoulder to shoulder
under the bright southern sun.
Their browned shaggy bodies
can't support them against ridicule.
Political and economic refugees
migrating into an alien culture.
Where scrambling wars are the norm
and greedy officials feasts upon them.
Now, too far from home.
Doomed to be butchered
by black South Africans' melting impatience
and negrophobia(xenophobia) fangs.
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