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Archives for September 2014

Bring him back to life

If I have ever failed to bow down
To You
Even for a day
I’m falling on my knees
Right now
Hoping that You listen
To what I have to say:

For twenty-three years
Passed
From hand to hand
And with every new set
The old ones disappeared

For twenty-three years
Life
Felt like one big mess
The loss
The grief
The hatred
The anger
The uncertainty
To say the least

For twenty-three years
Blessings
Were bestowed upon me
And with each of those
A sacrifice was made to Thee

I regard You as my only
Father
Not just spiritually,
But humanly
There was never another

And even though You blessed me with
Two substitute mothers
Everybody knows
The soul and heart of a young girl
Yearns
To be with her biological mother

And even though she, too, was
Ripped
From my life
Too soon
You still blessed me with a brother

One person whom I’ve come to
Believe

Will stay throughout my lifetime

One person whom I’ve come to
Believe

Will not be taken from me

One person whom I’ve come to
Believe

Will not come to the end of his life
Before I’ve reached the peak of mine

But all those believes mean

Nothing!

Nothing!

Nothing!

When I see his dying soul
Through those cold
Confused eyes

When I watch him
Barely
Holding on
His hands slipping and I can’t pull him back

When he gasps for breath
And his body screams for help

If I have ever failed to bow down
To You
Even for a day
I’m falling on my hands and knees
This very day

Begging You

Hear my plea

Hear my cry

Please!

Bring him back to life

Wishful Sleep

In my dreams I breath underwater
I sleep and all is well
upon my waking moment I feel cold winter’s bite
despite this fiery hell

Enough!

You said you needed a finger
That one of mine would suffice (It wasn’t enough)
I went and cut off my hand
And later bore the price (But it wasn’t enough)
You said you needed a foot
That mine was way too small (It would never be enough)
So I cut off both my feet
And later had to crawl (But it still wasn’t enough)
You said you needed a lung
That you were short of one (It wasn’t enough)
I gave you one of mine
Well, then, I was short of one (Yet, it wasn’t enough)
Before you needed anything else
I ripped my heart from my chest (Maybe that would be enough)
But you looked at me and said: ”Actually,
I’m in need of something else’

Dreams

High up in the sky in the glistening moonlight
My dreams float on clouds, comfy and right
Somewhere they won’t feel a fingertip
Somewhere I won’t have a sip
of them

It’s better they stay out of sight
So they won’t ever have to have a fight
Their soul awakens only in the night
They wander and wander but don’t find light

They cannot handle the hand of one
The fear of being ashes to the sun
They CANNOT, they WILL NOT shun

In one of the 24 hours, they gave in
It felt like a joy but it was a sin
They were hoping higher in one’s hand
Little they knew, soon, they’ll be grains of sand

Higher and Higher their hopes flew
Higher and Higher but none of them knew
The ray of the sun was striking at their heart
It shot! Bulls eye! Just like a dart.

Down and Down they fell
Still in the air, on the way to hell
One sin! Giving in! Led to a deadend
They shattered like Glass, It was the end…
Of them

The moon sent a shooting star
It was so near though it was so far
It awakened their souls In the day
To their home, they made their way

My dreams float on clouds, comfy and right
They made sure they stayed out of sight
They vowed in that very day
To never give way
of them.

I never imagined I’d be so insignificant

I never imagined I’d be so

insignificant.

I always thought I would save the world.

I always thought I would do

something –

history would preserve me;

The Great.

 

I cannot recall the exact point when,

but after innocence and the muck of puberty,

destiny gave way to

the quiet, chipping away of conviction;

the slow dissolving of

faith.

 

And I find myself woken up to

someone I would not recognise –

a stranger sans fire;

grappling with time and

the timelessness of ashes and dust;

grasping for any mention of special.

 

I find myself warm in my mediocre,

and the aspirations of others

yet uncomfortable in myself.

 

I never imagined I’d be so

insignificant,

nor so far gone that

I know not what to dream for anymore.

Palestine

Women are dying people are crying.
Lives are scattered bodies battered
Bombs are flying but they say we are lying
They live in a bed but we live in a shread
They say its tragic but we know as barbaric
They sleep we weep They use weapons we use stone
We live on the door of humanity but they are insanity
They know we dignified
they drip in green of of our
hard earned land
they eat sleep tear our land
but we says its in gods hands

In the kingdom

I suckled from the tree of life
Lost sight of the light
Painted my soul dark so I walk the nights
In paths frightening the fearless of souls I ride
Schizophrenic brain abluted knight
I feint the saints at sight
Stories told of me are legion-are we?
Fighting a lost war, to what glory is a won battle?
How does one fight his creator?
With every blow we throw my spirit worsens
Still seek I nurture
Away green pastures further
But farther seems my departure
The only hope of escape lies in God
A God of which I oppose Not
By choice
For I mistakenly suckled from the tree of life
And lost sight of the light

My heart is a homeless man.

My heart knows what it wants

Yet it knows it cant have

It is like a homeless man who knows what he wants to eat

But cant afford to eat it

My mind knows what is right

Yet my heart is the stronger of the two

It is like a homeless man fiercly pushing his cart

But the car will always out pace him

My mouth knows what it wants to sound

Yet my mind comprehends the future

It is like a homeless man who knows what he wants to ask for

But his pride cannot take a bigger load

My senses continue crucial conflict

Yet I will always be at peace with my love.

– Jerry Wooters

Mzanzi

Her smiles are always golden, and she always makes us weep. with great hope and much embrace we chose her fate to not be weak, which way to go which path to take, she will never hesitate, to take whats hers without debate. She never sleeps and hardly blinks without a care she’ll let you sink. Uplift you much , this is her trade but just for you to sooner fade. Beware her sting and yes she bites, as hopeful souls stand up to fight, nowhere to be but in her arms, her touch her love her sweet, sweet charms. Cruel and loving she can be to make many fall to their knees. We love her so , she treats us well, but for so many a lonely hell. she is you and she is me, we fought so hard to set her free. Her work is done , she got her prize , all the joy of many lives, her waking eyes are filled with glee, this is yours this is mine, this our mzanzi. By Angelo ‘benjie’ Jordan.

My little world

It must be the greatest feeling to be truly happy with yourself and your situation; Like actually be at the place where you are able to accept that you need to forget what’s gone, appreciate what still remains and look forward to what’s coming next. Heavens, is that difficult! Our little world – the place that we all escape to, is the gift that can never be opened by anyone else. My little world is consumed with words: words of greats, legends , poets. Words are my escape, my own little hide-out. Sometimes, it’s even a guilty pleasure. Words, to me, are what boxing gloves are to Ali. For the time I’m with them, I am able to defeat crippling inhibitions and be champion of Self. My little world of words is my pocket of bliss against the hems of flames of the world.

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