schmaltzy season

pay this no mind

sure by now you’ve read enough


but just thought you should know


that I really hope you find

a far better love


and you’ve also let go


© Heath Muchena, 2014


FruitShip… Zambezi to Paradise

early Sunday morning

empire building session just closed

but before he sleeps

he sees the portrait of Karl Mauch and sniggers,

thinking of the Great Dyke


he knows to be the most is to do the most

and feels justified in knowing

a house of stone does not collapse

although it can be abandoned


‘79.6 billion percent inflation’

he never understood what the fuck that meant

yes – he sure felt something

but he always knew too well the true store of value,

peace never escaping the mind


and so he lights one up for the early morning

mulberry, plum, avocado, guava, mango,

granite mangosteen, water and smelly-berry

decorates the breakfast table

monkey orange, prickly-pear, snot apple, and monkey bread

all kinds of African sweets


never to perceive suffering long as he lives

rather to savour its sweetness


diamonds and gold,

the greatest stories ever told

at his own ‘Groote Schuur’

where he’ll display the fifth bird of stone

in the land he calls home


he told her

a few more years and he’d have the world for her

that she should close her eyes and see

2020 something with him –

she jumped ship

rightfully so,

visions are hard to share


but more got on it still…


a lover just told him she fears he be going-in so hard

and even if they had a family

he wouldn’t have time enough for it


that had him thinking

there is –

no right –  no wrong

only a belonging to the world


then he told her he loved her

and she should just enjoy the ride

because he’s sailing the ship from the Zambezi to Paradise


© Heath Muchena, 2014

no gut, no feel

She said:

I fear that if you’re to ever lose your zeal

there’ll not be much left of you

nothing left to  feel


He replied:

My dear, if art should lose its appeal

or all such things heartfelt and true

I’ll have no gut, no feel 


© Heath Muchena, 2014


they fed from her bosom

upon entering the stage

but later fled their home

and heritage


© Heath Muchena, 2014

Game of Throngs II

the difference will not be what you’re made of –

all humanity being essentially the same,

but rather what you make of  –

seeing as most makings of society are, under scrutiny, a game


© Heath Muchena, 2014

love & meaning

her message read:

‘I really meant it when I said I loved you’

which got me thinking

bringing me to the realisation that in fact

love in its true sense

need not have me or I in…


also that love and meaning

are two words we oft attach to subject

which is sufficient in/for most…

as it posits love and meaning as needing an other


but what a pity –

when love is only love


and so after much contemplation I replied:

‘thank you’


© Heath Muchena, 2014

September Spring III

sun meets eye and forms can be seen

from the small snail which slithers –

its soft parts out of its shell –



sounds from species of all sorts celebrating spring

some soaked in waters; savouring the surplus stock of the seas

others soaring on the summery winds high up in the clear blue skies

many swinging from branches and scores searching through soil and landscapes for spoils


streets spill with skin and sin –

the sweat of struggle turns sweet –

like Sunday in September


© Heath Muchena, 2014