Proofs of Purchase

The following thoughts have filtered from a mind that has been oversaturated with images, screams, romance, text, and sounds since The Carter Administration. If you are not satisfied, then I recommend a double chocolate brownie from Starbucks with a tall bold of the day.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Dear Mr. Mugabe

Why do you buy this expensive shit in Switzerland?
That drives petrol up to 5 bucks a third of a liter?
Forcing the collision of awkward dialects
And unfriendly scorn, the only fuel that drives
The malice, the heartbreak
That washes away the joy from killing
Cecil Rhodes, the unfriendly, scrambling ghost
Who mined the velds, pushed out the springboks
Swallowed whole the Ndebele ids, Shona egos, and Zulu birthmarks
Only cause his pupils could not let go of
The gold glitter
The glitter cut down Rhodes
And will cut you down too, Mr. Mugabe
You filled your manor with Benzes
And earned the phony respect from your big sister, za
Isn't it enough?
Just go to Londontown and diversify your portfolio
At Barclays off of the Thames
Then you can leave the Zims to the Zims
The gas lines will get shorter
Bread will sprout again on supermarket shelves
You will not have to be exiled
By a Ginzu strike from my main man and your son
Nyasha. Big up, playboy

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