In The Zone

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By Zamangwane Kanyile In the zone we dart around each other like toddlers whose legs are still learning to balance their weight We move around wide eyed wondering who will let out first. When the rain hits your skin melting you down with it You’ve become a lifeless leaf As it lands on the ground you […]
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Symptoms

HOLAA, African sexualities, LGBTI, coming out,
By Sibu Malungu I am awake Dreams have been shattered Thank you I am grateful I am in pain My hope for us is gone But it’s okay Now I can fully embrace another Damn, I am here again? Lying to myself When I know that my heart may never heal My hope may never […]
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Branches of light stretch across plains

HOLAA, African sexualities, ithongomusings, revolution, poetry
By Mariam Likimani-De Cock Branches of light stretch across plains Cracked and void of usual intimacy Light filters through the cracks Creates a glow around the emptiness Then spreads through it like music through deserted halls Darkness rushes through Engulfing the light Silencing the music Voices echo through the desolate plains Voices dripping with disapproval […]
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Joy

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by Mxtrx N And two years later. No one, least of all us, Could ever imagine, We would lay here The moon illuminating your room Soft sounds fill your room  You touch me like you want to soak me in Like you’re remembering And relearning. Connecting. Black bodies Queer bodies. Soft bodies Eye contact and heavy […]
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She, me and her

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By Sibusiso Malunga She, me and her She walked to me as beautiful as ever Held my hand with a promise I felt through her touch It was real for me, magic Her eyes made promises I only interpreted as heaven I kissed her lips and I felt my lips call hers ‘home’ She paralyzed […]
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She, me and her

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By Sibusiso Malunga She, me and her She walked to me as beautiful as ever Held my hand with a promise I felt through her touch It was real for me, magic Her eyes made promises I only interpreted as heaven I kissed her lips and I felt my lips call hers ‘home’ She paralyzed […]
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So called freedom

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By Sibongile Portia Jonas If this so called freedom exists It must be buried under the bodies of raped and murdered women It dwells in the millions of squatter camps It clots in the bloody grounds of Marikana The pieces of its broken heart tries to cut and crack the feet of feminists It drowns […]
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