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Archives for 2013

The green, green grass of Mr Mashiloane

Life in Jozi is good so far,
I got a job and made some friends
Among those friends is an elderly man
Who stay in the heart of Ebony pack

There is some thing about this guy
Though He has gaffes like every man,
And I can quote the booze for one,
He drink’s his beer like its tape water

What caught my eye about this guy?
The green, green grass out side his house,
It cashes eye from far away,
“This is no ordinary loon” he says,
“It is the green, green grass from Canada lands”

“I don’t want paper or any trash
Anywhere near the green, green grass”
It’s always cut, and fairly cute
No dog or rat plays on it,
They understand it’s not a toy

Listen

Listen to the sound that comes
From within; the dram that rows
To unblock you ears, listen to the voice
Of the elders whispering to give you wisdom,
Listen to the sound of music

Listen to the sound that comes
From the mountains the echo of the
Shepard’s voice calling his flock,
Listen to the sound of water flowing
From stream to stream to soothe your soul
Listen to the sound of music

Listen to the sound that comes from the sky
The sound of the thunder as it rows to worn you
Of the storm that’s coming, listen to the sound of
The raindrops falling to give you grain
Listen to the sound of music.

Qinisa ifokotho mfondini

Vukani mawethu…,vukani
iXhesha lixhatshwe yinja
uneNdlebe nje unetyala
iLiso lona liyabona
Kodwa wena uyimfhama
Abanye bancgwatye bephila
uKhakhayi undzonzdile
VUKA… VUKA MNTAKWETHU
uNgavumi bakuTYUMZE iFOKOTHO

The word

The word that brought all things to being,
Is mocked about by many deans.
And many hearts where cleaned.
A will of living water drilled;
Have quenched a many gills;

The dreadfull thirst of hell is killed,
The sailing hearts are healed.
It was turned on earth, too flashed,
The sun of rightiouness flashed,
The sheckles of sin where smashed.
A brood of sacred chicks is hached.
The joy in haven, can’t be matched.

God gave us

Let us claim this year
Peace love and prosperity
It’s our right by default
When we are children of the lord Christ

God gave us yet another year
To make it Wright, yet another
Breathe so we can have a chance for salvation,
Yet another voice so we can tell the whole world
Of his love, grace and power

God gave us yet another time
To love, cherish and support the
People who brought us to this
World, yet another chance to
Appreciate and Horner their existence

God gave us yet another moment to glorify his name
Yet another term to sing praise
And give thanks to bless others
The way we’ve been blessed

Cold Heart

It was seven after midnight when I was awaken by a loud noise, rather like special effects in a film, but this was real.

With my eyes blurred from sleeping , I tried to stay lying down, but the noise was getting louder. I thought it was mum and dad because their usually wake up in the middle of the night and argue, but this time was different.

The screaming was not mum’s anger, but a scream of terror, with my vision returning, I grabbed my torch, ambled towards the window and gazed into the darkness. On the street, across the long front garden from my room, a young lady was jumping about as if she was in swarm of bees. I fixed my torch to the position where she was standing and on the ground was something which froze me completely. He was lying there, close to lifeless, with red blossoming from his bare chest. I wondered vaguely if he was her partner. Had she called for help? Did anyone hear her screaming ? Or even heard the gunshot? With the night so still, I doubted anyone did.

There was no one else around, standing, walking, crying, or doing what ever they would do. I was the only one.i don’t know how I got outside, but that’s where I found myself. “where do you think you’re going at this hour, young man? Mum was behind me. I turned face her and tried to answer.
…ambulance.. c-call ambulance, and that’s when she saw what had happened. She was shaking as she pulled her cell out and dialed the emergency number. I knew there was no reason for me staying , but the ambulance would arrive at any moment. I ran upstairs and grabbed my jacket, and as I flew out the door again, the ambulance pulled onto the curb. The lady was standing there in, still in shock, panic, and fear, shaking, with tears flooding down her face.

Mum went to comfort her while the emergency team took care of the victim. With blood all over I felt like I could hear his heart slowing down. A moment later the police arrived, interrogating the women then, a policeman came to me, asking if I was the one who called the ambulance. Mum led him aside, and started explaining. I asked the lady if she knew who did this, but she could not speak . Then the police began to put out no trespassing signs , like they do in movies and there were a few detectives whom I saw collecting evidence at the scene. It reminded me of a television show called medical detectives, where this guy was riding a bike at night and he was killed in a hit and run. A few minutes later when the ambulance was about to take off, the lady was asked to go along, and she insisted we go along too. We agreed, as she was in need of comfort. On the way to the hospital the dying man held her hand, and, with a soft voice, he spoke, “Thank you”, and those were his last words.

Dared

I dare to tell of their secrets
that handbag full of mystical revelations
untold stories of our once confined forefathers
those concealed behind every door
buried in the pits of their left pockets
Snugly laying at the back of their throats
the greatest taboo of our time
forgotten at the tips of their tongues
I dare to make known their shady secrets
those leading to a black man’s enlightenment
skilfully disguised in those highly confidential textbooks
those never to be spoken of tales
unseen behind every banned revolution song
those enveloped in bruises
beneath every pillow
behind broken promises
beneath every breath
wrapped around silent voices
of unsung heroes

Poetic Paradox

It is eternally a mind altering thought
that of poetry’s paradox in every moment born,
its multicoloured wings spawn this age of floating ashes…
flashes of the other side of what awaits our words,
what awaits our hearts a part of a whole different world.
Unfurled everyday upon our eager lips
within our kisses and our wishes that sweep our souls
we are consoled by love in her paradoxical cloak,
invoked by love’s deprive..yet alive
waiting willingly in the tears of our lover’s cry.
I have beheld the world in my eyes
in a moments breath on either side
where contrast ideas collide in a mind full of sky..
where twinkling stars cast their gaze
and sunlit days turn to nights of rain.
i am captured by the frames of time

Sold to my soul

The solemn mood is right now out here
and the yellow hallowed moon burns bright
to write my mind vomit spilling out.
By starlight the dazzling night is cold,
sold silently to my waking soul
as I find this conversation on the other side.
Arid leaves have fallen to the ground below,
up on my roof, again I’m slow to melt away
like light Summer raindrops quenching gently,
fears trapped in tears wash away what’s in me.
Burnished beams of light from inside
out and away into the dormant night
you take flight and expand the heavens.
My thoughts carried rapidly through my mind
as I am lost in some kind of enchanted tale
I find the words I inhale on this page,
a centre stage, my own master puzzle
guzzling, flowing forth as my pen takes shape.
I escape, unraveling line by line
splattered out across a surreal time
as though a new painting still against a wall
I fall…
drawn deep into my perplexing dreams
as this night’s realm captures me.
I gaze up into the stars above,
think about love as life breathes away from enemies
I feel you touch the scars that have cut me.
Time travels through my eyes
as the skies mirror what earth beholds
I am sold…
silently to my waking soul,
I am whole if just for this moment in time
in this I find my own divine.
Beyond the fine line that separates a world of hate
I stand knocking at the gate of grace,
Heart, body and mind open to the space in dreams told
I am sold …silently to my waking soul.

Love feels gone

For years I have watched the seasons go by,
dry and shrivelled inside this wondow frame
I look beyond yet I am still frozen inside
Alive and dying on my bed of fallen pieces left wanting,
Hunting the outside for what seems to be never mine.
Winter has fractured my mind,
twisted my spine to shape its unescapable relm
of hidden tints and under tones
that roam the hours of this sour place
I face delemma daintfully, dedicated
as I have failed to eradicate what I can’t escape.
It’s the same hours now that pass my rusted window
still yearning the lust that gusts by,
by and by the wind cries as I cry alone
alone….love feels alone,
Love feels gone,
gone is love from my home.

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