Saturday, 21 March 2020


Captivated by capturing non-Caucasians,
They took control of us and turned us
Into captives.
Our brothers betrayed us for the coveted
As colonialists conquered our communal
Our families they took,
Our farms they took,
And the first seed they planted was that of

Today, a conglomerate of Black artists
Murmur a frail song ‘Africa Unite’ But,
Our Mama-Africa has been ransacked by
The western rascals.
Everything is turned upside down,
Our own who are in the diaspora, can
No longer trace their roots.
The branches of the tree are all over,
And the fruits of the tree are being
Consumed by those who never planted it.

Written by: Ntokozo 'The Conductor' Mdluli

Sunday, 2 February 2020



It’s been a month and eleven days.
I’m happily married,
And my beautiful wife is asleep
[oh so I thought].
I slip out of bed as quietly as I can
Cause I don’t want to wake her up.

I grab my journal, glide into the
Living room, and sink in the couch adjacent
To our bedroom door.
I begin to write and write, then, stop-
Mid-sentence I take glances as my pen
Dances to the muse…the spotlight of
Creativity shines brighter on the page.

Suddenly, a glance turns into a gaze;
My eyes susceptible to such perfection
They relent- rendering all things
Meaningless against the masterpiece.

How difficult it is to imagine
How what you thought was asleep,
Could actually awaken the sleeping
Giant in you.

Written by: Ntokozo ‘The Conductor’ Mdluli                                                                 ©2020

Thursday, 19 September 2019



I wish I had a disability, a disability in discriminating those that
society deems as disabled.
Words are deeper than the letters that make them,
Words become worse if you break them; down into segments we
sometimes call statements. They say through words we get
but they forget that sometimes through words we may be
Society causes anxiety in many innocent souls out there; using
Stigmatory words like ‘the blind, the deaf, and the crippled’…
Not knowing it is actually their souls that we cripple,
each time we mention these soul-crippling words which make our
brothers and sisters’ situation seem worse,
Nobody is ABLE to DISABLE that which the CREATOR has
Time and time again, we make them believe that God made them to
be incomplete, and we let it sink in their
that for every missing part in their lives,
they have God to blame,
As we persistently call them lame,
…not knowing that it is actually our attitude that
Makes things remain the same.
It is a shame
to God, each time we give
His masterpiece an ugly shape, painting black the glorious image of
God as we utter the kind of words which are not kind to humankind,
and that is why
I wish I had a disability, a disability in discriminating those that
society deems as disabled.
It is a pity people judge by physical appearance
but they fail to look beyond what meets the eye,
 because there is a difference
between the eye that looks and the eye that sees…
If only we could cease
Judge and let God be the judge,
just let Him be in charge
so He can
Each and every single hand holding a grudge
against The One
who’s in charge
For all that we are.
See, sometimes I wish I had a disability, a disability in
discriminating those that society deems as disabled.
Sometimes I wish I was handicapped, handicapped from holding
Grudges against others.
Sometimes I wish I was lame so my feet would not take me to
My conscience hates.
Sometimes I wish I was deaf so my ears could not hear the
Words that pollute our minds and poison our souls.
Sometimes I wish I was blind so my eyes could not be blinded by
Enticing things that the world presents before our eyes to sabotage
Our future…yes ! sometimes,
I just wish I had a disability.
How I pray that we all realize our own personal disabilities before
we start labelling others; and the greatest disability of humankind is
the failure to do what is right when everybody else is wrong.
And as a matter of fact, nobody is disabled…it is just that OUR

Copyright  ©   2019                      Ntokozo Mdluli



In my motherland, young children are snatched from their parents to be made soldiers,
They brutally slaughter those who raised them.
Violence is the only induction to manhood,
As politics ambush the innocence of childhood.
It is the burning sensation of hatred and war, and it has happened before,
The Jews in the ovens- ‘purification of a nation’ they said.
In my motherland, I have heard the whisper of a Priest saying:
[ashes to ashes, dust to dust], As ruthless rebels were dancing on corpses’ ashes
They were done and dusted.

In my motherland, young girls are trading their innocence for silver,
A mother weeps as her daughter is violated by vicious men,
 A father groans and grimaces as he watches helplessly, the assault on
His wife and children.
I have seen our sisters being victims of their own loyalty and compassion.

In my motherland, the beauty in black is no longer embraced,
Old and young women have been brain-white-washed,
Like the poor Maggie, they see horror in the mirror, 
Because they're being haunted by the colonial ghost.
But we never mind cause we're used to living amongst these 
cultural zombies.

In my motherland, churches are led by charlatans,
 The youth is devoured by the ever hungry lion of passion,
In my motherland, you can judge a book by its cover,
For the looks in their faces are an open book of what they’re feeling inside.

In my motherland, the natives are relentlessly fighting for their land,
And they are using the ‘masters’ tools to demolish
His own house
The land is soaked in blood and tears,
It is always a struggle to overcome OUR fears,
In my motherland
Chaos runs the land. . .and you just wish you could be
Young again- be a baby; and enjoy the peace on
Your mother’s lap. . .

Copyright  ©   2019            Ntokozo Mdluli         ‘The Conductor’ 

Sunday, 28 April 2019



Dear Rose, you were the rose that rose amongst
Thorns, against all odds
Beautiful and bold
Precious as gold
Until you were told; those sweet little lies that
Put your future on hold.
The once burning flames of hopes, dreams, and aspirations
Have since become ashes, and everything has withered like
The greens in winter. Just like beautiful petals of a flower that has
Been scorched by the ultra-violet rays of the sun... Everything you had
Has dried up like a shrivelled raisin in the sun.

Dear Rose, I wonder who took your pride away
Because your life seems to be getting worse each and every day,
And how you wish that things could turn out your way.
But at this point, it is pointless to point fingers at others in an
Attempt to keep the truth at bay.
How could you, open your heart to a stranger...or maybe he
Promised to turn your life around, so you thought maybe he would be a
Life-changer, a life-saviour but not suspecting any foul play
In his behaviour. See, we men deceive women more than anything else
And most men have long mastered the art of transforming the woman's heart
Into anything that they want it to be.
This is not a funny but it sounds like a joke to me, when I come to think of
The sequence of events most of which begin on a high note but eventually end
In deepest sorrow.

Dear Rose, the story of your life is none less a tragedy, and as I poetically
Narrate the ordeal that befell you, I feel like it all seems like just a tale and
One may wish to begin it with "once upon a time" which is a common begin
Phrase for most tales. Firstly, you opened your heart, then you opened your
Mouth to declare that you were more than happy to reciprocate his love for you.
And eventually,you opened that fragile feminine treasure box and you exhausted
All those sacred, precious minerals that God stored in your private treasure box;
A box which ought to be unlocked in wedlock. But look now, you ard nothing
Less than a de-flowered flower.

Dear Rose, the walls which were covering you have since developed some cracks and
In no time they will be crumbling down on your you. Young woman, if only you knew that
Your prince charming would one day expose your short-comimg in the area of self-control.
See, the once striking figure which used to be a centre of attraction to the opposite sex has
Since taken a bulging shape, oh what a shame you brought to yourself!

Dear Rose, your downfall was not falling pregnant, but your flaw was to fall for a man who
Wouldn't catch you when you fall... PREGNANT!
You told the whole world that he brightened up your days and always put a smile on your face.
But little did you know that those beams of light would one day turn too bright for your eyes to see his true colours. See, the irony of the story is that the beams of light you used to bask under In the blissful days are the very same beams of light that blinded you, but I don't blame you cause they say "love is blind", hence you got blinded by love.

BUT dear Rose, despite all that you've gone through,
There is still a glimmer of hope, this is not the end of the road,
For while there is life there is hope, so, hopefully your life will get better in time.
And please! Remember to take good care of yourself... Oh, and the baby too!
I wish you good luck in everything you do, and may God be with you,
Every step of your way.

Yours truly: Concerned Poet

Wednesday, 24 April 2019



Gun-toting terrifying trespassers, have
Invaded the protected territory of endangered
Species. They are merciless in their pursuit for
Game, and killing is their aim. They are an
Incarnate of callous vikings, very ruthless on nature
And the nature of their exploits is a piercing pain
To those who nurture our environment.

Time and again, poachers and pistols are
Captured by vigilant rangers, since these offenders
Are always treating them like strangers; yet rangers
guard against the invasion of the animal kingdom fortress. The wild
Is their home, they are like gods for they have mastered
The art of cohabiting with deadly beasts.

I call them the homeless heroes, because they sacrifice their comfort
For the good course of nature conservation.
I call them the watch-towers of biodiversity, daylight and night
Makes no difference to them, their job is unconventional and different
From your 9 to 5 monotony.
I call them preachers of peace, and I so much wish that poachers
Could repent and forsake their cancerous sin of perpetuating the extinction
Of our treasured beasts.

And yes! We salute the rangers,
For they are friends with wilderness and not strangers.
We salute the soldiers,
We salute the homeless heroes.

But we... We frown upon the poachers,
For they are a fungus in the beautiful garden
Of biodiversity

By: Ntokozo Mdluli