Heaven's Misfit

28/04/2026

10/04/2026

The Misfit Codex presents:

GONE FOREVER.

Someday, I’m gon’ be gone forever.

Born today,
Gone tomorrow,
Gone forever.

Today? Maybe.

Life heavy;
Gone again.

Heaven is waiting,
Hell is burning,
Jealous ones still envying.

One day, just to fade away,
A distant memory.

Born today,
Lived in the maze,
Swam through waters;
Shallow and deep,
Waves still wavy,
But gone are the days.

And someday,
I’m gon’ be gone forever.

Gone tomorrow,
Today? Maybe.

So how
you gon’ remember me then?

06/03/2026

THE MISFIT CODEX

Last night, I found myself dreaming in rhyme and I woke up to jot down what my thoughts were saying. This has given birth to my new collection of Rap/Poetry...

THE MISFIT CODEX

Flowers, leaves and petals, 🌺
Battles I fight against the sentinels, 🦾
Stairs and elevators on different levels,
6s and 7s, why would I settle?
9.5 boots, I dance with the devil 👿
Rhymes and pointlessnsss still flowing in circles,
Stepping on the snakes, 🐍
Two-stepping to the Beetles, 🐞
Oh well, not all animals are equals, 🐷
Nothing is black or white, 🖤 🤍
Only the colour of the moon, 🌚
Still I kill these worms like Chani in Dune,
Ice cream colder than the middle of June, 🥶
Fight fire with fire, Orzai/young Zuko 🔥
You're not what you used to be, young Pluto.
We see right through you, skeleton Hublot ⌚
I knocked it out the park with the first shot, that's Juno.

14/01/2026

THE MOTHERS

The morning starts before the dawn breaks,
They wash, rinse and hang the dirty linen on the line,
They tussle, they clean, fight the heat from the blazing braziers filled with dead and dry nkuni from the dried out forest,
Emptied now, barely any trees,
Only shrubs,
Cleared, out of pure desperation, and need,
They stir the pot,
They fetch the water from the well,
Snuggled on her arched back, she carries the weight of her world,
Once a prayer to the heavens,
A blessing..

To be continued...

08/12/2025

flower child....

I wrote you this;

A piece crafted from my bare hands that still holds your every heavenly aura,

Godly in every sense,

My flower child with the enchanting glow of the sun ray on a wet summer day,

Let me inhale your fumes, four fire, your hue,

Every energy and love you exhume,

Living the rest of my numbered days loving you to my sudden death,

I have seen it all before my dreams,

And when I awake besides your beating heart, body warm and breasts I know fear is

the sort of thing I leave all behind and choose not feel,

Because all there is to it is the comfort in your skin with creaks and strikes and

laughter lines full of love, life and adventure to be written by you and I,

I know now what I never knew then that if life is worth living,

I choose to live it besides you.

The flame lilly *Gloriosa
...

Picture Taken by Misha Mwanza

08/12/2025

The great Charles Bukowski

“the illusion is that you are simply
reading this poem.
the reality is that this is
more than a
poem.
this is a beggar’s knife.
this is a tulip.
this is a soldier marching
through Madrid.
this is you on your
death bed.
this is Li Po laughing
underground.
this is not a god-damned
poem.
this is a horse asleep.
a butterfly in
your brain.
this is the devil’s
circus.
you are not reading this
on a page.
the page is reading
you.
feel it?
it’s like a cobra.
it’s a hungry eagle circling the room.
this is not a poem. poems are dull,
they make you sleep.
these words force you
to a new
madness.
you have been blessed, you have been pushed into a
blinding area of
light.
the elephant dreams
with you
now.
the curve of space
bends and
laughs.
you can die now.
you can die now as
people were meant to
die:
great,
victorious,
hearing the music,
being the music,
roaring,
roaring,
roaring.”
–Charles Bukowski, "Splash" from Betting on the Muse (1996)

18/11/2025

Veil of Virtue

Shiny suits to match slithering tongues,
Words spit out with a venomous spew,
Twisting truths, trading principles for rotten desires,
Play the impoverished like pawns,
Lies slip through freshly scraped teeth,
Clean as the polished shoes that walk on water,
Saviour of the masses, they proclaim
While teary eyes and songs of praise fill the air,
Closed doors hide the handshakes that seal the deal,
Loyalty sold,
Loyalty bought,
Rotten desires fight for power,
Not for the people,
Only for those who wield the sword,
Spoken so eloquently with words wrapped in parables and riddles,
Tales spun of paupers and promised land,
Burning bush reveals no truth;
Burning bridges, burning ladders, burning ties,
Promises broken,
Hearts shattered,
Hope manipulated by illusions,
Mind corrupt,
Where truth is sacrificed for favours,
Loyalty sold,
Loyalty bought,
Industrialized commerce,
Humanity forgotten,
A conscience emptied and hollowed,
Deception a philosophy cloaked in false virtue,
Reality misconstrued,
Hymns and dances for empty victories,
Pockets thickened,
Wounds deepened,
And so the story continues.




Dont forget to register to vote!!

18/11/2025

Today is not such a bad to share this amazing piece 🥹

31/10/2025

Tomorrow we go again. As we put yet another loved one to rest, I recall the sorrow I had in my heart that led me to writing this. I pictured it not from imagination, but from a clear and vivid memory, and the grief was was reborn...

Nsima Ya Pa Malilo

https://www.facebook.com/61562271242961/posts/122145500384409041/?app=fbl

Inspired by SISTA D

NSIMA YA PA MALILO

Backs bent under the shade of the mango tree,
Hot air blows on the face from the boil
The nkuni, chopped and beaten by young men from old bark down in the field,
burn from the open flames,
Red with fury,
til grey with ash,
It burns.

The mothers —
My mother, your mother, his mother,
Joined both in motherhood and sisterhood,
stir with the strength of a thousand ancestors before them.
They laugh,
They joke,
They teach the young ones what they know,
Your sister, my sister, his sister,
This kind of knowledge is passed on through blood and bone

The tears are dry now,
But the pain,
though silent,
lingers like an echo in a deep cave of despair.

The fathers —
My father, your father, his father,
Wait eagerly in the tent,
Sharing old tales of their youthful days over munkoyo and local lagers,
Their pain stays quiet,
buried deep beneath ego and bravado.
Hurt still they will.

With bleeding hearts,
Stolen dreams,
Still, the stomach growls.

And so,
Through your pain,
My pain,
Our pain;
We eat.

03/08/2025

Inspired by SISTA D

NSIMA YA PA MALILO

Backs bent under the shade of the mango tree,
Hot air blows on the face from the boil
The nkuni, chopped and beaten by young men from old bark down in the field,
burn from the open flames,
Red with fury,
til grey with ash,
It burns.

The mothers —
My mother, your mother, his mother,
Joined both in motherhood and sisterhood,
stir with the strength of a thousand ancestors before them.
They laugh,
They joke,
They teach the young ones what they know,
Your sister, my sister, his sister,
This kind of knowledge is passed on through blood and bone

The tears are dry now,
But the pain,
though silent,
lingers like an echo in a deep cave of despair.

The fathers —
My father, your father, his father,
Wait eagerly in the tent,
Sharing old tales of their youthful days over munkoyo and local lagers,
Their pain stays quiet,
buried deep beneath ego and bravado.
Hurt still they will.

With bleeding hearts,
Stolen dreams,
Still, the stomach growls.

And so,
Through your pain,
My pain,
Our pain;
We eat.