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Archives for 2013

Just Love

I’ve felt love, never left it to trust myself,

hence the session I cussed and lust just set my wealth.

It’s a pretty penny, paper, faker than the Us they sell.

Hand in hand I planned it to crack our shells,

but I’ll be dammed if I’ll stake “my” to “self”

my design and the way we felt,

its my demise rife in the way she helped

and I hate the “I” in the pride we held.

Decide the safest way to break the ice we melt,

played the joker, folks holdem in the times we dealt.

Shout for the blizzard, I’m bringing winter in troves

losing my mind alone throwing hope at these ghosts.

Boasts, she couldn’t find her soul roped in these poems,

tucked gently, hence the reason I chose,

the season I’m promised through the beauty she holds.

The duty I conceded to boast in the movement that duly unfolds,

a pearl of wisdom spinning the world that she knows,

and surely I’ll wake with my heart frozen and cold?

dreams cracked by the mistakes and the stones that I’ve hurled

times change, but I’m changing the “I” in me first

lie to me breathing the fire that pries at my worst

and tries every second to recollect the sighs that I’ve cursed

by my only wish and I’m dying to change

by reinvention, not intent to die in this place

but who am I? I rely on the habits you break

and the sadness in my soul resigned to the depths of this lake

revived to allow the whole world to witness my life as it breaks

yet when she smiles its like my thirst quenched by her name

through my driest summers I promise her words are the rain

and the darkest winter nights, skies brighten with the sight of her face

the sweetest dew in tulip fields colours couldn’t match her shades

all my love in a heart shaped locket hanging from the threads of my faith

and I dread the hour headed this way,

with every breath I’m blessed with I’ll live for the day

to hold you and tell you I care

to show the truth that I’m blessed to just know you were there

to whisper sweet nothings that encompass my prayers

when my casket gets lowered and I’m alone in my thoughts

I want the depths of your eyes to be the last image I caught.

A Statistic

How quickly they forget me, yesterday’s news, when they heard of how terribly I was raped,
Beaten and left for dead, in an alley, while walking home.
How quickly they came to offer my parents their symphathies and me their pitiful looks.
The policemen, the doctors, the religious man and even the Mayor.
All offering advice and help.
How eagerly they spoke to the news lady in her dress suite and high heels,
promising to help find the monster who did this to me.
But, just as quickly they forgot.
Too consumed with their own lives.
Nowhere in sight when I needed a lift to the hospital for more tests and pep talks from doctors and social workers.
Nowhere in sight when the doctor said “ YOU’RE PREGNANT! Do you want to keep It or get rid of it?” Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
So quick to judge my family struggling to cope, falling apart at the seams.
No therapy for their pain or my empty soul.
How quickly they forget me, as they see my growing belly and swollen feet,
trying to do the right thing for the one who too didn’t ask for this to happen.
For now, I’m like the ones who came before me,
those that will come after me
And those just like me.
A Statistic.

He walks Free

He walks free,
His trial date one behind thousands awaiting to be heard.
Two weeks in jail.
Not enough evidence, before he goes missing, presumably gone for good
while I am in prison.
I am the one locked behind closed doors,
burglar bars,
barbed wire
and an electric fence.
Who sleeps with the light on, carries pepper spray and a whistle.
Afraid to be left alone, yet more afraid to be alone with me.
Who changed her hair colour,
the clothes she wears,
got new friends and even a new church.
Who cries at night when everyone is asleep
and prays for the courage to stop living to make the pain stop,
While he walks free.

Gold

Gold is a marvel
To behold, but ’tis cold to
The touch: love it not!

Who Am I?

Ask me who M I and
I will pop, my eyes and
Stutle like, I’ve been
Pointed with a Gun,
Right at my back Bone
And my Gut will be telling
Me that God, is Watching
Over the beset me.

Between and beside,
Those, who know me, I will
Never be able to define
The inside executed,
Cold-blooded, code of
What I really consist of.
I take words from others, intergrade
Them to form a revelation
Of what is me, that is not real.

I Coast upon my faith,and
Delight over others mistakes,
Ia|m not innocent , M just
Surrounded by mercy,
That keeps striving me
To trail me to the right track,
Though I feel like sometime
Life has grudges over me
And I’ve never hurt the
Universe or cursed God
But I find it difficult to
Believe that I am also
Loved like the children. Of
Israel.

I’ve never had the audacity
To define who M I, I cannot,
Point out,, many successful,
Stories, I’ve encountered, since
I saw myself in the mirror,
I’ve always found myself, ashamed
Of what I uncover beneath the towel.

Who M I, its just a question
I cannot take upon, myself,
I’d rather sit-dead in my
Room and have the walls, closing
Up on me, painting themselves blue than speaking senseless Words
To fill my void.

I’ve always fall short, of decorated,words,
I can explain myself, my flaws, always
Flare, when I am around a spirit, and I
M afraid that fame will destroy me. And take
Me back to the mud-house that
I was born at..iam not fortunate
To lay my hands in the fire and
Resist the pain.

Who M I, ke santse ke le ka. Go
Fumana karabo, maybe I might find
Myself inbetween my granfathers
Tales. He used to share
When we gather around
The fire. I cannot,
Change the world, because I don’t
Know, much about it. But if
You hold, my hand and walk with me
Step, by step, I will be able to rediscover and
Define the inside me. I will be able to
Tell a word, without, shining, and laughing
My shame aways, struggling, to maintain, the infuse Peace within my pain.

I cannot say who m I, M still
Fixing the blister, and building,
My confidence, so when I see the
Ocean, I will not be intimidated, by how far it, flows and float on the ground, I’ve not
Yet reached the point, where I can say this
Is the finishing line, but everyday becomes
A race that sometimes result in pain.

I choose to be distant from
The questions, that makes me Isolated,
When intergtated, the stars and kings
Can shine hard, that even my light can not
Be able to stand in the bright. There is a
Leak, between my faith and words, so
I laze unto my silence that takes me
To a place, that I will work for 6 days and
Rest in the 7day and lift up my strength.
Then asked who M I , I’ll tell them, I am Gods best Made. I am who God says I am. This is who I am

LIVING THE NEXT MAN’S DREAM

Being young and working in an industry that pays” peanuts” has left so many questions in my mind. Actually a dozen of these questions have risen from the frequent conversations with my colleagues. They all want to move, they want better jobs, houses, cars and some even husbands.

I often wondered what the root of all this dissatisfaction and low morale was. Then more than half of them decided to take on distance learning,” great move”. The fact that they all registered for the same course kinda left my mouth hanging and feeling like the black sheep. “Bcom is where the money is” they insisted. “What have you registered for” they would ask and in the lowest tone I would quickly answer a “BA” and walk away before I notice the annoying look of disapproval. “Well that girl is definitely headed for poverty” they would say as I exit the room.

Hence I got fed up of trying to defend myself and try to reason for my choice of studies. After spending three years in an engineering class, I had definitely learnt my lesson. I can never forget the feeling of waking up every morning, walk into a lecture, walk out and hate the fact that tomorrow you’ll have to come back. I remember the small voice in my head that constantly screamed “you know where you belong”. Then next to me sat “charles”, the guy who wished that the lecture would go on forever. I would look at him and then it would click that I was an intruder in his world. I was literally living in his dream. I could definitely see that he was made to be in an engineering class and it is all he had dreamt about.

I was too shy to walk away from this world. Imagine a straight “A” maths and science student stuck in a “BA” class. I was too shy to live my own dream. Too shy to be the being that I was truly made to be. I feared rejection and the “you are headed for poverty” comments. I just went by and forced myself to believe that I would fall in love with “it”. I waited a long there years for the love to come and instead resentment grew on me. I hated the fact that I had chosen something that required me to put so much effort whilst I knew there was something out there that I was effortlessly good at. I resented the whole system that promoted and supported only science and regarded all else as useless. “Try to phone around for a bursary and see how quickly they’ll hang up once u mention the word BA”.

I now stand to change the stereotypes. If you are not prepared to embrace me and my calling perhaps cutting you loose is my only option. A “BA” is not less valuable in fact no degree is inferior to the next. We need positive role model in this field who are gonna come forward and prove that even with a BA you can still lead a successful and fulfilling life. Next time you see me racing down the road on my German convertible don’t assume that I have found myself a rich man, just know that those are the fruits of being innovative and following my true passion. “LOL”

Reaching For The Rain

Another Monday filtered in,
Enticing, and rapidly racing,
Like my weakened heart,
It’s come and gone;
Chores are done;
My spirit lies incomplete,
As sordid envy,
Enclosed in the refusal to forsake all others;
My heart still has a price to pay.

Then for a moment,
A brief breath away,
From the depths of seeming madness;
I gaze outside this window,
Framed. Alive. A beautiful barrier.
I see the rain…

Its raining again,
Pitter-patter raindrops,
Crashing gently against the dry, thirsty earth,
Crashing violently against my parched,weary soul;
The awareness of an endless storm raging within.

I’m on the inside,
And it’s still raining.
I see Love in the rain;
The labour of an unspoken grace;
The fortitude of being vested on the inside,
Sentenced by the power to resist.

I can feel the rain falling on me;
The freedom of residing in the inner courts;
Who’s to judge it’s worthiness?
As I navigate the threads of truth;
A limited pursuit;
Soul-less, drenched and dried.

Remain on the inside,
There where the rain still reaches;
Quite the words that intend to bring solace,
And clad the purer parts of you in a trench-coat;
Do not fear to tread upon,
The many colours of secret spaces
And stay silent in the midst of peace.

Come out of your hiding place,
Like the umbrella who brings
A yearned for freedom,
Under-written and undeserved;
And cover my vacant soul
Before it starts to rain again.

The Loss

The water spilt…
The sun took cover in the mountains depths
Darkness made his way to inner land and into our home.
The joy that came with the morning rise,
Was sucked in dry by the sponge that rested in our joyful stream,
The smiles were wiped away;
The only light we had was the comfort from the moon
And the candle light from those we grieved with.

If life’s intention was only a story book this thick,
That only allowed us to go this far,
So the pages in our story ended in the tragedy of yesterday;
I wish to own a magic stick,
So I can re-live the former pages that contain your existence.
If life’s intention is that I carry on further than today,
I wish to own a magic wand,
So we can re-write a different tale from this.

Time will heal…
We’ve reached a chapter where such words are meaningless,
Where all we hoped and believed in has come to test,
And only higher powers make sense.
Though no one understands the heart behind the smile,
And the number of tears we shed;
With my eyes closed I still see your form and long to hold you dearly,
But all I could hold is a bouquet of beautiful memories.

The sun made its way back to inner land and into our homes,
And with it joy and a privilege for knowing someone like…. (You)
Wish God could have spared you just for a few more years;
But you honoured a request from the Father’s call.
The peace within helped us look beyond earth’s shadows,
Gratitude for the stories we wrote yesterday,
Made its way in our hearts;
You were another beautiful flower picked from His beautiful garden.

Failure is Success

Allow me to try and fail but not fail to try
Aim high but not yet reach the skyline
Even thou things may not go right, bright days turn into dark night
Il keep growing strong till I find my armoured knight.

I wont give up
As tears stream down like on my window pane
I wont let my thoughts go astray
I will take another chance, another leap of faith
Until this dream of mine is uncaged

Even when life throws its twists and turns
Through pitfalls and sea saws, there are things on learns
Il persist on even as the pace seem slow
As I know success will come within another blow

Success is failure turned inside out
It will come after I conquer my doubts
Break free and take on a new lease on life
For failure is just success wrapped up tight

So allow me to try and fail but not fail to try
Because soon I will reach the skyline
As things go right and each day is a bit bright
I will stand tall and be that armoured knight.

The dying soul

How possible can that be?
How true can that be truthful?
How can that be truthful ,can a soul ever die?

There is a hummer that could bring a soul to die.
There is a sword that could bring a soul to bleed.

Your words can break lives.
Your word can kill souls.
You are the master of your mouth.
You are the king of your words.
Be care full of what you say because your words can put a soul to death.

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