Stranger

I don’t recognise the person staring back at me
yes, we have the some similarities
I mean she has my eyes, nose and everything else
but I don’t know her
I don’t know how she feels.
Her eyes tell a story, different to mine
They talk about a pain, different to mine.
Her face has bumps that are quite different to mine.
That’s when I realised something, the girl looking back at me didn’t hide her pain like I did. She embraced it. She fought with all she had and she was not scared to show off her scars because she was proud of where she was coming from.

times two

Malice you are,represented by deception,a snake in my heart,infecting my reflection.
Falling like a star,you feed me more direction,to the darkest part,of your hollow heart’s perfection.
“”You are no more than hollow thoughts that float about in thunder cloud””
“”You are the scar I wear and prance about and shout out load””
“”You are the decay that plagues my heart you colour dark””
“”You are the parasite inside my blood that makes me rot””
“”You are by far the most sinister I’ve ever begot””
So zealous you are,presenting misconception,a snake that you are,escapping from the eden.
The fallen that you are,in promise you entice me,to your devious despair,you’re bound in hiding
“”I cry the tears of years that you forced down on to me””
“”I have a heart filled with discart for you and all you are””
“”I face the pain with arms open in sweet emmbrace and hate””
“So jealous,overzealous in deception”
“Incorporate and guiding misdirection”
“In your sacrament you elope and bathe”
“Through rejectioon we disband and are prone to wave”
“In molecule we’re all just a Jack of spade”
You force upon what you call respect,but respect the ones you so forget,
Respect is earned by respect,the day we met I so regret!
Maybe you can see my pain,maybe you are the one not sane?
Please loosen around my aching neck your tightly forced upon corset,
The days are dark~filled with regret,I wallow deep inside your head,
I burn the bed where you laid your head and sell your soul to fit the dead.

morning

Morning sunshine
Day of smile
Filled with love
Joys of the world
To make the changes
In the streets
To hustle and push life

Welcoming a new day
With hustling honesty
Happiness written in different faces
Underneath filled with saddness

Life aint easy
Not all the morning are filled with joy
Rather painful moments written in faces
with forceful smiles
Warmth faded
just plain sadness

Morning filled with rays of warmth
Either joy nor pain
Smile or sadness
Happiness of the day
stained with tears of dull moments

Part of life and the journey
Around the sun
The day is made into mornings and tomorrows
Yesterday is gone
no pasts just new day
New plans that starts
When the morning blossoms.
#Ntabie

The savvannah tree

How long have you been there?
How many generations have you perceived and
how many lives have you come across?
Hope you have also realized how wicked this world is.

Our leaders are not driving us to the promised land, instead they are leading us to the world of their own fulfilments
The world of hatred and sorrow

please tell me if you know something
tell us what to do cause we have failed on our own

I think if you could speak you were going to lead the world with good manners
great wisdom was going to be taken from you, for you have seen all the things that the world lacks.
Are you even listening to every word I am saying?

Mother Africa

Africa, great mother of al, where omega be the first and the walls of Jherico falls. A continent so diverse, oft tongue oft skin oft race, graceland to the king as the dying hope for grace. Mother Africa, most sinister love you give, as suffering still comerce in the well we all still wish.You humor the sick to be so strong, you fool those in praise as death still reap reality and lead to a lamenting song. O Africa, o mother to all, hear the homeless suffer and hear the hungry call, see the poor in dispair and jest the way they crawl, look as nations tumbeling a down the hill they fall. O mother land, so dry is the sand we stand on, burning our footprints and scorching our shadows for so long. O mother Africa, where do we belong? why must we be slaves to a system rightfully wrong? Africa, o mother of a greater need, oft wicked ways where evil never sleep, where terror suffer insonia and pain still roam the street, why do we have to suffer, is a lover on our need? Why do we have to speak with hate and violence and harm one another to bleed? Why can’t we live and be? instead of shelter away and dispose of the masks we see, why be so robotically? and rather live life free, to be who we are, truly are and not pretend to be, not like,whereas a tale oft fable and oft weak, no tale of struggles in our streets or dying of the young,but more the history of a nation as one, a path walked and not just sung. O mother Africa, mother land to all, unite us as a nation before we all will fall, let us stand united, mother, hear my call!!!!!

World Better Blind

Is this world not better blind? A darkened place where there be no colour left to find, where we are unable to judge by face or skin, would this not end all the damned wars and hates that race and creed did begin?

Forget what my fathers did for yours have done as much. Say not that you deserve nor use history as your crutch. Stand upon your own two feet and meet the day with pride, the time is done when behind bygones you might hide.

Raise your own voice and see with your own eyes. Sever now all the past and its pointless ties. I have wrought no harm upon you so cease your empty lies.
When the world be dumb and blind, that be the day when hatred dies.

You kept me waiting

Waiting alone at the bus stop wondering when are you going to show up
Counting all the fallen leaves and comparing those incidentally standing in pairs as you and I
Breeze so strong to carry a new born baby from the bottom to the top of the khalifa tower
Listening to the sound of cars fleeting by and taxis hooting for those who are ready for job, as those who work close by were walking in groups exchanging amusing moments they had
Students looking pleasant in their uniforms playing around as they usually do and fade away after some few seconds

I was still waiting
Patiently waiting for the one who promised to appear and fetch me
The one I thought is muscular enough to be lifted by me while she carries the world and claim triumph
I was still waiting
Waiting to see her smile next to me

The Lion

Lion of the greenest eyes,
Lay thee within the earth or o’er us in glittering starry skies?

Whither does thy roar resound that great men seek, yet none hath found?

Thy mane of glittering, taunting gold, an’ pelt of silver that neigh perfection doth enfold.

Mercury runs from thy fanged maw, to call, a trail, a path to draw.

Out from dust and unto the sun an’ by the circle moon tis begun.

Whither now? Which the way?

Onward and unto perfection, so tempting the soul’s defection.

Slumber yet, great and lordly host, thy touch is yet unsuited for all and most.

The Hunter Awakes (Intro to a new story of mine)

It is not often that men consider the lot of beings lesser to them.
At their peril they discount the very idea these creatures may hold knowledge they themselves lack the capacity to comprehend.
A humble fly, a pest, a spreader of disease and pestilence, the worst kind of vermin. Reviled and exterminated whenever possible. Yet even now, thousands of their number were being drawn to a place, plain to see were the night not so dark under the clouds of the coming storm, where lay one who the givers of law so fervently sought.
She lay not alone, for within the steady and dispassionate circle of light cast by the electric lamp above stood her killer and no single emotion marred his placid face.
Her remains were not fair to see. Even discounting dirt and blood, the signs of hard use by hand and blade were upon her cold flesh. Had her spirit lingered, as perhaps it did, she would have witnessed the true wakening of that which had slept for long ages past.
Her killer spoke, though to whom it could not be said for he was alone in that lighted circle with only the departed dead.
Had her eyes still seen, as indeed from beyond they might, she would have seen the shaking of his hands, the primal fear belied by his dead eyes and unmoving expression as the blade which had stolen her life was drawn once more from its hiding place upon his person.
Had she been able to hear, and in truth she must have as all the dead do when they are spoken of, bitter would have been her tears to hear his stumbling words of supplication. No laments for her forgiveness, not entreaties to stave her wrath, none even to wish her a graceful rest in the life beyond. No, only worshipful mutterings in some ancient and nonsensical tongue passed his lips.
Up came the blade, and well may she have run, remembering its deadly touch. To heart, to lips he held it, swearing that which should never be sworn. Stillness, absolute and infinite settled. No creature born of night dared give voice. Even the masses of flies stilled, their innumerable wings held as a man would hold his breath.
On and on he spoke, making promises and bartering the tangible and intangible essences of his being and hers to the silence… until…
No sound changed, no great lights broke in the sky, no flicker marred the heartlessly efficient circle of light, no shadow moved, and yet within the circle he stood alone no more.
Eyes were on him, older and darker than those of his departed victim, unseen but felt unto the dregs of his soul. Smells assaulted his nostrils, rain, smoke, fresh turned earth… and blood.
He knew what he had woken, primal and ancient, born of the sacred blade first christened by his own willing blood… and then the blood of prey.
Twice before and now, the final time, he’d heeded the whispers seeping from the shadows, their promises ambrosia to an ashen heart. He felt no remorse for he was pure, and he was blameless. He’d hunted and sacrificed as was demanded, as men had done since the first days, no crime at all compared to what was to be gained.
From the first it had shielded him, showing him what paths to walk, where to sleep and when to flee, and when to take his prey all unawares. The givers of men’s laws were far from him, walking different paths and serving different powers. They could not touch him.
He shuddered as that which he had woken regarded him, coldly assessing its servant.
He’d sworn, he’d sacrificed, yet even now his acceptance into its embrace was not assured. It would brook no weakness, no frailties, no hesitation.
Moments wore on. Each a searing eternity under its scrutiny…
And then it spoke for only him to hear
“Yes…”
Lightning split the black sky and all sound returned in a rushing wave, the legion of flies burst their ranks asunder even as glass rained from the shattered lamp. They would not touch this meat, this prey. It belonged to the oldest of things now, woken from its slumber and returned to a world it had long since abandoned.
And in the darkness as the first rain fell, he laughed.
(Written to set the tone and scene for my main antagonist)

Will History Repeat Itself?

Deliwe is a 17 year old girl living at Bhekuzulu rural area with her grandmother who is everything to her. They survive through the granny’s old age grant.

Everyday she has to rush straight from school to her house to fetch water, wash her uniform, cook supper and go back to school for a late study. As she is doing grade 12 this year she can’t help out on some of the chores because she has lots of school work to do. From grade one she has never failed, this year its her chance to prove herself by passing her matric with flying colours so that she can get a bursary or hopefully a scholarship to further her studies.

All these years she has focused on her studies, listened to her teachers and managed to stay away from trouble. Granny can’t afford to bail her out of any trouble as she has been both mother and father to her since her mother passed away after giving birth to Deliwe and her father was never known; some say he was working at a mine in Johannesburg. She is so focused in her studies as she wants to make granny
proud and build a beautiful house for her, hire a lady who can help granny out with her chores and also buy grocery for her.

While they are studying at the afternoon study in school other girls are busy with boys. If she is lamung them for what they sre doing, they tell her “Come on Deliwe. YOLO!” Now there is this boy(Mzwandile) who is flirting with Deliwe. Honestly she does not seem to care about that. This boy is so patient with her he even accompanies her on her way home from school to continue begging her for her heart.

Lets see if Deliwe can stick on her goal without being distracted. Granny is counting in her for heaven’s sake. She has her whole future gazing up on her; one mistake everything will be gone and history may repeat it self.