Archives for October 2014

Zu’s Dilemma

Zu watches the snub nosed revolver hover in front of her face. Its pocked marked holder emboldened by his rage and the cool grip of the weapon in his hand screamed escalating obscenities at her, working himself up for that that first and final shot.
41 minutes previous.
“It’s MY fucking house!”
She hadn’t meant to be rude but the flight had sapped every last piece of energy from an already weary body.
“Look I got rent agreement!” the smile on the dark round face was stuck on, unwavering in the onslaught of harsh words.
Zu took the pathetic piece of paper between thumb and forefinger.
It had been torn from a note book . The jagged edges and faded blue pen scribbles stating that Hessie Kabongo would pay R400 a week for room and board, including the use of the kitchen and bathroom facilities. The signatories to the ragged document, Hessie pointed out with a shaky scabbed finger was hers and a Mr M.T.I. Amardien.
She had used the last of her Army money to pay for the tickets and car, hoping that at the end of her flight from the States would culminate in a semi furnished house, hot water, a meal and a 12 hour nap. Then she’d phone the lawyers and sell this relic from her grandparents’ life and move the fuck on.
“Lady, I know you a foreigner, refugee or something but I don’t have the time and strength to get the police or a lawyer out here.” Zu stood over the woman with her hands on her hips, her bags left resting against her legs all but forgotten.
“No police, please. My permit is renewed. Look.” Hessie held up another piece of faded paper wrapped in plastic. Zu caught the words “Asylum” and “Expiry date” before Hessie whipped it back into a pocket on her oversized sweater.
“What I need right now, is a meal, a shower and place to sit. In what is my house.”
Perhaps it was the mention of police, or her tone that prompted Hessie.
“You come in, I make food for you.”
Then a little girl dragged Zu’s duffle into the house.
Zu watched the little girl struggle with her bag her red faded corduroy pants scuffing the wooden floors as she drags the duffel to the kitchen. She was 7 years old and short for her age. Zu picked up the signs. Malnutrition and starvation left marks on everyone, the kids especially.
“I didn’t think I’d see this here,” she whispers.
She grabs the duffle from the struggling girl.
She’d visited twice when she was a child, so all she had were memories of emotions; Feeling scared as she sat on her Grandmothers lap. Happy as she ate the deep fried coconut covered cake they had called doughnuts . So different from what she knew was a doughnut.

She walked from the sitting room into long wooden passage leading off into a number of rooms. At the end, in the kitchen Hessie stuck her head into the passage.
“Come. Come. Eat”
The kitchen was large, furnished with a rickety wooden table and 3 white washed chairs. Hessie had laid a chipped white plate and cutlery on the table.
“Sit. sit”, She says, white teeth flashing into a quick almost genuine smile. Zu gives her a disbelieving look.
The smile freezes in place, and a plaintiff “Please,” convinces Zu to take a seat at the rickety table.
She remembers sitting at a larger table in the kitchen listening to her Grandmother tell her stories about the first Amardiens that came to Cape Town. She talks while she cooks with onions, cloves, garlic and cinnamon swirling around the young child’s head.
Grandma Amardien turns to Zu and says: “Zuleikha, please get the Jeera in the cupboard for Ma?” Zuleikha was her full name but everyone just called her Zu. Her parents called her Zuleikh for a while but eventually it got cut shorter to Zu.

Hessie puts down the plate.
“Thank you” she says distractedly, entranced by the gleaming eggs, sunny side up.
“You eat. Ok” Hessie says laying a hand on Zu’s arm.

Hessie puts a bowl in front of the girl, and sits across from Zu with a bowl of her own. The child starts eating the stodgy mess while Zu and her mother look on.
“What’s’ that?” Zu asks.
Hessie tilts her bowl and shows it to Zu: “They call it Pap here. I think you call it Maize”
“Oh, yeah. Maize”
They call it, she had said, Zu thought.
“How long have you been here” she asks between two bites of toast.
“6 year. Me. And Jacky. And Tracy”.
Zu points at the little girl: “Jacky?” she asks. The little girl manages a smile with her full mouth.
“And Tracy?”
Hessie frowns .“Working.” Then silence.
Zu takes a sip of her coffee. Strong and black no milk – it wasn’t half bad, better than the crap they served on the flight down.
“You American?” Hessie ask quietly.

Zu hesitates a little before answering. “Yes and no”, she says.
“Oh hell,” she mutters as she begins to explain.
It was the same explanation she had given since she had started school.
Her Grandmother had been an activist against Apartheid and was subjected to numerous ordeals by the apartheid government. To spare her family some of the pain of her actions, she had sent her son to Philadelphia to keep him safe.
Nazier Amardien, had grown up with an Aunt and Uncle as surrogate parents, visiting South Africa every 3 years or so to see his real parents. When his father was found dead on the street in a suburb called Belhar, the State had forbade him, his Aunt and Uncle entrance into the country as a means of punishing his mother.
Nazier eventually didn’t ask to go back home, and instead focussed all his energies on schooling. He met Mathilda Robinson at a club on a weekend away to New York.
A Year later they were married and a year later, Zu had been born.

She only found out about her Grandmother when she was 6, when she had visited along with her Dad. Her parents divorced a year after they came back from South Africa.

Zu was sent to Philadelphia to be with her father’s Aunt and Uncle, and Nazier continued to pursue his career in advertising in New York before settling into a comfortable life in Seattle.
When Zu had graduated High School he sent her an invitation to his wedding. Matilda didn’t get one, she died in a car accident 5 years earlier and Fatima Amardien, women’s right advocate and apartheid struggle veteran was too sick to travel. In fact, she didn’t know her only son had remarried.

“When I got back from deployment, I got this letter and deed saying that I had inherited this house.”
“You sell the house” Hessie asked, punctuating the question with a quick stab at the kitchen and the passage.
“I dunno.” Zu answered. Truly not sure of what her intent was.

She was running away from her old life, and the house or the sale of it could buy her a new existence. Perhaps one that might let her sleep through the night.

“May be I’ll stay a while, huh?” she says slowly, smiling at Jacky. The child returns her smile without malice or insult and Zu feels her heart skip just a bit.

The bang at the front door shakes Hessie and Jacky so visibly that the child jumps off her chair and runs to her mother.
“Hey open up, you old Makwerri!” comes a plaintive and clearly masculine voice from the door.
“Jacky not here!” shouts Hessie down the passage.
“I know, because she’s with me. Now open!”
The last two words come with a bang at the door.
Hessie, tells Jacky to stay with Zu. The girl looks at Zu, her face a mask of fear.
“It’s ok, darling. You can stay with me,” she reassures the girl as Hessie walks down the passage.
I should’ve get them gone thinks Zu, it’s my house after all.

She listens carefully as the door is opened and the whiny plaintive voice makes another demand:
“Listen here, you open the fucking door faster makwerri, otherwise there will be trouble. Ok? ”
Zu hears some shuffling then a bedroom door opening .

The footfall on the wooden floors is heavier than either Hessie’s or Jacky’s but not by much. Zu thinks it might be someone 5 foot 3, maybe 110 pounds.
She doesn’t want to look to confirm.
Looking implies being right about his weight and height, it also implies that the necessary force you would have to put on that persons carotid artery to render them dead or unconscious. It implies the average weight the knees could hold and the corresponding pressure needed to dislocate it or crush the patella, the bone-cartilage compound covering the knee joint.

“Hey Hessie, give money, man.” the plaintive request as it filtered down the passage.

“No money,” Hessie courageously managed.
“Hessie” and then Hessie made a sound that raises Zu’s neck hairs.
“Be a good little Makwerri Bitch and get me some money, or else I will make sure that Tracy works the shit streets, where she can’t earn anything. And then I will have to put up the rent or sell that little girl in there to a bunch of fucking Nigerian pimps. Ok?”

The footfalls on the wooden floors make him stop.
He looks up to see a tall delicately featured dark woman. She looked like some of the Muslim bitches that worked his section of the road.
“Get your hands off her?” She says with an American accent nogal.
“Girly, where the fuck are you from?” he says.
She just looks him straight in the eye. The bitch was tall.
“Leave her and get out of my house?”
Her house? Who the fuck did she think he was.
“What you American’s say: ‘Possession is 9 tenths’. I possess it and you d…”
“That rule only applies in the movies. What does apply is the little piece of paper in my bag that says title deed, and a lawyers’ letter that says proof of transfer.”
He kept quiet, let the bitch talk he thought and slowly slid his hand into his pocket.
“You have been illegally charging rent on a house you don’t even own. Which makes you a fucking douchebag, but that pales in comparison to the utter heinous shit that comes out of your mouth. And that elevates you to the status of dumbass. Now get out of my house and don’t ever come back. “

You think you can talk to me like that bitch?” he says pulling the snub nosed revolver from his denim jacket pocket.

Zu watches the snub nose hover in front of her face. Its holder emboldened by his rage and the cool grip of his weapon screams ever escalating obscenities at her, working himself up for that that first and final shot.

Hessie closes her eyes and screams.
Zu moves.
The moron forgot the first rule when pulling a gun on someone: Don’t stand to close.
As he moves the gun level with her chest, she grips the guns and twists his wrist.
As he tries to pull, she brings her arm up and using his own leverage pushes her arm up and breaks his arm. He screams, shouting and swearing at her, sweat beading his face.
(In hindsight, she should’ve stopped their but instincts that she had hoped should be buried forever claw their way to the surface.)
So she takes out his knee.
He’s going to come back again, she rationalises.
When he does come back he’s going to hurt them worse than before, because his ego’s been bruised.
With her heel, Zu dislocates the knee joint that it pushes the patella until it punctures the skin.
Hessie’s screams brings Zu out of her adrenaline fuelled actions.
“Is he dead?” she asks.

Zu looks at the mewling man on the floor.
Hormones flood her body calming the muscles and breaking her focus. He wasn’t a threat anymore.
She let it happen. Zu had learnt the hard way to not run hot unless she needed too. That way laid destruction and madness; her instructor had told her in his odd accent.

“Nah. His done,” Zu says, turning away from the moaning and putting an arm around Hessie.
“Why don’t you take Jacky to the kitchen and I’ll…” she looks at him, wondering again if coming here was the best decision she could have made.

There is a loud bang from one of the rooms. A pretty dark skinned woman lurches forward, swaying a bit with each uncertain step. She barely registers Hessie, when her eyes fall on the figure laying on the floor.
“I guess I’ll call the police, “ Zu says. Walking down the passage leaving the rising screams behind her.

The police were there is about ten minutes.
A tall police officer, Officer Meyer was more interested in getting Zu’s details than he was about the guy on the floor with a destroyed knee and arm whose name turned out to be Lionel Jackson.
Zu knew a Lionel once; he turned out to be just as big as asshole as this one was.
Officer Tembise wasn’t too impressed with Zu or Hessie and Tracy for that matter. Zu got the distinct impression that Officer Tembise didn’t like the idea of calling an Ambulance or waiting for the Ambulance or even waiting for the suspect to regain conscience.
An hour and a half later, he was gone and Officer Meyer (Yuri) promised that a case number would be sms’ed within 24 hours.

Zu stood on the porch watching the police go down the block, presumably heading off to an oddly named Victoria Hospital after Lionel.
Hessie stood next to her, keeping quiet, watching Zu.
“Tracy?” Zu asked. “She sleeping, now. Jacky sleeping too.”
“You think about what you do now?”
Zu turned to look at Hessie.
“Lady, at this point, I don’t know.”
Hessie nodded her head sagely.
“When do you know?”
Zu smiled.
“Ask me again after six months, okay?”
Hessie smiles not exactly sure what Zu’s meaning.
“Let’s go inside and discuss by how much I should lower your rent.” says Zu.
Hessie smiles and clomps her way into the house.
Zu follows, closing the door behind them to the screaming sirens in the distance.

Etched in time

Deep into the mind of an eternal slumber.
The thought of death crosses me.
I struggle to push these armed thoughts away.
Deep into my subconscious mind
Where bad memories has long been forgotten.
Oblivion…The thought of nothingness overwhelms even the best of me.
A life wasted
These thoughts darkened even my shadow
A innocent in my spiraling demise.
I fight
To have but a speck of me etched in time.
Oblivion…A word that shakes every ounce of my hope stained soul.


A word more fierce to me then ten thousand scythed deaths.

Fight I will

Till every word I give wings… bleeds my pen dry.

Fight I will

Till the words I breathe reaches generation to come.

My Speck etched in time.


She fights with hand bare,

For her life hanging on a stick.


She lays on black rock of lace,

For her life hanging on a stick, dead.


She fights off dogs and crows,

For her life hanging on a stick, dead, empty.


She cries and prays,

For her life hanging on a stick, dead, empty, cold.


She smiles and cries joyfully,

For her life in a grounding burial, with his Father.


I was pleased to hear your name
I was amazed to see a face like you
Your smile, time stop for that moment to wonder
Scared as I was my heart would have break if I said not hello
For once I took notice of my voice and yours was unbelievable
I said my heart out
I told of secrets kept hidden from the rest
I held you and assured you of never letting you go
My life was for you to protect
I held your hand and walk with you through that storm
Your tears I hold precious not to fall down
In your eyes I saw not an angel, but the image of the most high
You told me I was everything that your inside longed for and likewise I said
I called you not darling, sweet heart neither my half, but by your name and you said it was sweet, and your name is sweet
Then suddenly I was walking by your place
I saw you holding his hand and I nearly died of honestly
Was it really you my sweet turning bitter on me?
I believed it not
You saw I and your head went down and my head turn in the other direction because of disappointment
It was the truth we lost it, we really have lost it
You told me the day after my heart break that you never meant to hurt me
It was the truth you were always going to hurt me
I left and tears like a flood came rolling down my cheeks
I wanted to despise your existence, but my love was too pure to consider it
Storm and storms and weather grey become my daily existence
Was I dead inside for my smile was just a waste, but definitely a frown
Lady so sweet left me fragile
One day I smiled with I to see what will come forth
The thought of you disappeared like a long memory in the mist
Finally was I free from you
Then one day I heard you were looking for me
I found you sitting on a branch of a fallen tree; broken did I feel like the tree
You came running and hug i
Your eyes were full of tears, I wanted to push you a far from me, but only could hug you and embraced you
I hugged you because I knew the hurt you felt and nobody deserves it
You said he broke your solid heart and the pain was not bearable
I told you to stop because sense you were making not
You cried, I had nothing to give to you to wipe your tears
You asked me how could He?
I asked you how could he?
You said how could he take I away from you, but remember you let me away from you
It was getting late; can I take you home I asked? You said no, because you had no place to call home as I was your only home.
I tried to ignore you and what you were saying, you begged for forgiveness. For what I asked?
Please forgive me for the hurt and pain I caused so replied, I said don’t worry it is already done and I was okay with a face mixed with emotions.
I would not show my disappointment neither my hurt… damn you screamed
What went wrong you asked? I replied and said nothing went wrong only your greed was best answered.
Believe in me and I believed in you.
I asked if you will be fine and you said totally you were fine
Only to be find out to be the most scared of them all even though she said I ‘m beautiful
You are forgiven because it is the greatest of all gifts I would give….. goodbye our paths have crossed again.


A Joyful Solitude

A joyful solitude
Silently mingling with a chemical
Gently stroking a thought
Willfully conducting
a plague of uselessness
Spewing vague fables of significance

Violently denying the truth.
Feet glued to shitty television
and Irish booze
Clouds of smoke screening
days and days of regret.
Microscopic friends fester
in a failing memory’s wound.

You remember their smiles
Tattooed to their faces
Confirming your wit
Feeding your ego
Their proud words
Swimming in your head
You remember.

Calculated deceit
You remember that
Stealing from them
Corrupting them
Aborted strains of kindness
Your blood turning on you.

You remember that
don’t you?

The monster within

The rage consumes my soul like storms rising tide.
Angry waves constantly beating any hope of being…
God lost my blueprint to life it seems.
A thousand times I shout….
My lungs bleeding for me to stop…
A million times my fist hit the walls…
But still the rage surges.
I cling to the last thought that made me feel ….worthy….
Like an infant clinging to it’s mother in times of uncertainty…
As it endlessly battles the darkness within me…
Clinging to life as I once did.
A bloody battle… internal struggle…
Do I just let go and let this raging monster within consume me?

I choose to fight!

Slowly a voice rises from the ashes of my charred soul….
Louder it grows…pounding away….
Drums of a battle on the brink of victory…
A phoenix drenched with the possibility of a new tomorrow…
A smile slowly creeps across my lips…
Like a new life rising from the dirt.
It’s then that I realize.
I’m alive!!

Closer to God

An obscene scene
decorated by gasoline
burns immortal.
ignited by the visceral vapours
of gluttony.

Tangled, entangled
constrained, tight
the all-knowing iris
gleams in the moonlight.

The fires siege the prudent scalp
turning all righteous thought
into a useless pulp

a gasp, a breath
a finger, a breast
her eyes turn to marble
and her passions are laid to rest.


I’m truly a wordsmith with poetry and rhyme…

If you haven’t realized it by now, I guess… you must be blind.

I really don’t feel bad if you don’t like my page…..

I have a place where my poetry’s all the rage.

In his head yes!

Damn! …. I wasn’t even speaking to you Chris….

Who’s Chris?

Oh!… Just the voice in my head… which the last words… rhymed with…

Who thought you can actually do that with words…..

You mean, put it on a treadmill backwards… and still make it come first.

Yes it’s a skill…. I probably mentioned this before….

It’s like the words just flow…. from my third minds eye’s core.

I completely zone out….?

Yes! …Please don’t pout… I’m always on the scout ….for my scythed words to put doubt…

Or even reroute…..

Your thoughts or your feelings……

Maybe in theory…..then you’ll like these pages.

If you haven’t realized it by now…

I’m oracle 707… please just stay calm.

Maybe I should just try… and put that diff-erent-ly……

The oracle 707… in actual fact …is just me.
The oracle 707

State of chaos

State of chaos
When are we going to realize we a slave to the system and just standing by…
Like a passerby…!
Witnessing their love being cooked and fried…, on a grill… you paid for…and this can’t be denied.
It sores me to see this state in chaos…, playing it cool like they control us.
We put you there…, don’t think we don’t have the power to pull the chair…
Right from under there… Sorry I didn’t mean to scare…,
You’ll fall to our level… and groveling won’t help…
Because we just don’t care!
The government is blinding us…, like mice…, but this time the clock just isn’t there…
What I’m saying…, they robbing the wood from the forest…but this time it’s the opposite…
What I mean is …they stealing from the poor and giving to the upper-shit…
We too good a soldiers…, to rise up against a corrupt government…
And they are Loving it!!
A justice system designed to take away your pride…. and shovel it.
I wish I had a super power like hulk… and take the fight to them, and make them jump a bit.
Like a Jack…., or I mean popcorn because these devils are just playing the masses and hiding their horns…
Like the thorns…., We live with daily…
Everything’s mediocre, but not like… tele tube’s Martin Bailey..
More like the state ate the land and selling it…like a piece of cake on a plate…
I mean they sold part of a mountain… for god’s sake.
If that’s not insane enough…. I live in a world where the order of the day…
Is to wear bullshit accepting night vision shades…
It’s not this generations issue is the call of the day…
What about your precestors …do they not have a right to say….
How they want to live on their day….
The world is cruel and the ships in the bay…
I mean the pirates all died…
By the way!
They were the only ones that stood against the rising tide…
That is today!
So why the hell don’t we care? …, Let me share… this truth,
Not like a confession…, more like lost ambition…, of what I could have be…
If I was born 500 years from now…, so now you see…
Like peas in a pod….
And the only one that stands out is… Me!
Why? …Because I see things… diff-erent-ly!
I’m preaching to the choir… so why even bother …
I’ll just swallow these words…
Or do you Agree!!
The oracle 707


I am it
I am undefined
I am paving the walls of self-discovery
I seek myself in the depths of my inner most being
I seek the life sustaining entity
I delve into the source of this consciousness…
The inception of this mind
The thoughts that course through the flood gates of intuition
Subscription to this state of mind is exclusive
It can’t be named
It can’t be sought
It can’t be brought
It is welded into my bones
Its code is the life rushing through my blood
I am it
I am undefined
I have paved the walls of self-discovery