The Art

I Caught Feeling

2008-10-24T17:39:00.000-07:00

have i fallen in love with my fears
have i nurtured all these tears
have i blinded myself to a vision that is clear
have i fallen yet again
have i resurrected pain
have i sung the song of broken dreams and spirits all the same
did i refuse to lend my ear
to a God that was always there
did i mute the sound of my own conscience, and so i did not hear
did i play the life of games
did i play the role of lame
did i converse again with demons, debating who’s the one to blame
why’s it, serenity so near
can look through me with a stare
and turn around instinctively, denying me my claim
why can’t i feel me here
in the presence of my peers
yet i can’t stop the feelings that just seem to know my name

Chaos Theory

2008-10-23T17:55:00.000-07:00

I just saw the shoes and the can randomly outside near where my cousin, Lunga, was living early in the morning, as I was on my way back to Midrand from Jo'burg. These objects just immediately caught my eye and I felt compelled to took this photograph.

discarded out there at random, haphazardly...but I couldn't have placed them more perfectly if i tried.

"Total chaos equals perfect symmetry..."

Defining the Abstract (poetry)

2008-10-23T17:35:00.000-07:00

“Poetry isn’t what I do; it’s who I am...”
I find this statement has become increasingly true the more I find out about who I am and where I fit in to the ‘Grand Plan’ of it all. I’m hardly the right person to tell anyone what poetry is and is not, but there are some things I know to be divinely born of heart and sober mind. I don’t believe poetry is an ‘ON/OFF’ switch that u can choose to turn on the inspiration on queue; poetry is not the structure of the writing, or even how it is delivered across and received by others. It is not a tool one uses to get what they want from, to impress others, to intentionally oppress or put down another individual. It is not a weapon. It is not the witty rhymes one writes only to get attention or woo another, not that there’s anything wrong with wooing with poetry, I’ve done that too, but if that is your only reason for writing poetry then...you’re not really a poet. You are an imposter, an imposter with the “look” and feel of a poet, but with none of the true heart and substance that goes with the ‘title’. Poetry is the world in words, looked at from your view at that time, born of heart and inspiration that seems to overwhelm the writer as it hits them like half a brick slamming at the temple.
Poetry is growth and self-discovery. Its pain, excitement, peace, love, anger, anticipation, fore/after-thought, fear, faith, strength and joy trapped in text and verbal coding attempting to decipher for the human condition. It doesn’t even have to contain conventional sentences, diction, or even words at all.
“Poetry isn’t what I do; it’s who I am...”
It’s how I speak, relate, and communicate with the world.
Poetry isn’t just ‘now’ or ‘then’ or ‘whenever’. Poetry is, and it will never be again – like a desert rose.
Poetry is not a special hat or beads or style of dress. Poetry is not a trend.
Poetry is...
Poetry is a way of life, a culture... poetry is more, so much more than you can hope to ever scribble down or trot over during a random group ‘word pass’ or ‘Jam Session’. Poetry is life. Poetry is more...but you still try to write it – that’s what makes you a blessing unto those that care to hear you out; that’s what makes you an inspiration, a messenger...a poet.

[This is not at all everything that poetry is. Poetry is what it is because of how within it we are free to be ourselves; and that's the point, poetry is about being true to you - screw what everybody else thinks or says. Poetry is my Life, my Voice, my Family, my Friends. Poetry is truth ~ as i see it.]

Sunday Night - Someday Might

2008-10-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

Feeling the abyss of the Son
realizing the error in my misguided sight
fleeting past seconds of a race that can’t be won
seeing that the ‘reality’ sheds more darkness than the light
swallowing glass-full’s of bitter tears
of anger
rage
confusion
and malignant fears
swimming amiss the ominous words that brought me here
this Sunday Night
which Some day might
Shine as bright as the blinding cries of my former (inner) child
and all the while
trying to tame emotions that emerge as twisted and wild
Why do I cry
on this Sunday Night
that Someday might
feel sympathy for the pitiful excuse that I am
riddled and reduced in the palm of a hand
and I can’t seem to stand with arms open
hoping that
these feelings Someday might
on Sunday Night
take up flight
and leave me, the forgotten spawn of short-falls
and mistakes that you just can’t help but regret
as you spit at the Son
wondering why he cursed you with his life
have I become the seed of misdeed
and a leach with knees
that kneels and pleads
but seeks to see you bleed
and lick your wounds
crouching down into them
cocooning myself in blood and sweat
and treating it as my wombs

Oh Why?
Why does this Son
Why does this Sunday Night
never hope that Someday might
be less tragic than today
I await the Son’s daylight
that never comes, but
Some day might
be Sunday Night’s
White shining light
that lightens the burdens of ‘right’
but what if
what if on this Sunday Night
[Someday might]
the Son just might refuse to shine

The View from My Window

2008-10-22T19:15:00.000-07:00

I look outside my window
At a life that hasn’t come,
At a sunrise of our memories
Stretching back to where I’m from.
As the dew drips off the petals
Of flowers in the mist,
We forget about our midnights
As time ceases to exist.
The nectar of your whispers
Still clings upon my lips
And the taste just chills my senses
As you reply me with a kiss.
The warmth of stars forgotten
Still stretches from beyond,
Reminding me of sunsets
And where I once belonged.
But you, with just a smile,
Illuminates my day,
Seeing me as life’s perfection
And begging me to stay.

Mankind

2008-10-21T09:41:00.001-07:00

Walk around blind
Behind yourself with worry,
Waiting for the enemy to carry you away.
Repelling, if you may
As you’re waiting for the day.
Left purple in your frustration,
Bastards of abortion
Living in perpetual mental castrations
Evading penetration;
Vasectomies of verbal illation
And still show no such patience.
As if waiting a while will leave your soul vacant.
Mankind cannot see where beauty lies
Because we find that its eyes
Hide behind its mind.
These vengeful vultures
With stares of archery.
If looks could kill
It’d hit the heart of me.
Eyes see what they want to see
With short-sighted vision as it might be.
Fear-stricken by the unknown
And questioning the apparent given,
It wants to get saved
But turns its nose up at the prospect of hope.
Rather puppet-string up its dreams
And place its beliefs in a pope-on-a-rope.
Mankind is a migraine, and I refuse to cope
Or just crocodile-smile, grin, and bear with it,
Because for years I’ve kept with it
And went, swept away in a wave with it.
You’ll see it
And that angry mob,
You’ll slowly stat to be it
And the same freedom you fought so long for
You’ll turn the lock and key on it.
Mankind is greedy, and it never gets enough
Of stuff
It’ll eventually just want to get rid of.
I’m sick of the pretences
‘Cause the only emotion Mankind really feels is apathy.
It thinks that when it gets bored of reality
That it can simply
Change the channel
On these reality programmes
‘Cause it spends so much time
Seeing reality in programmes
That it starts to believe that
Reality’s programmed

New Beginning

2008-10-19T15:44:00.000-07:00

I see my future in your eyes,
I feel our destiny when we touch,
A new sunrise at each corner of your smile.
The light that leads me from my darkness is you.
You are my secret.
Frequently whispered for the fear that you might just fade away.
So everyday, still I stay bound to you…

Dear Self

2008-10-19T15:41:00.000-07:00

Life’s gotten a bit better, but it feels like I’ve still got it worse.
Even after time I feel it still hurts.
How am I meant to pick myself up and fight?
How am I meant to make it work?
These brutal beatings of my former life
Still cut jagged lines threw my fear stricken subconscious mind.
What? Does the world think I’m blind?
Dear Self, I wish there was a pill I could pop to make my life subside.
My life’s not right,
So can you truly blame me for thinking that my very existence is cursed?
I’ve still got it worse.

I’m starting to feel as though I’ve gotten the short straw,
Because I’ve been denied everything I’ve fought for.
I wish that I could retire from this life
Or maybe even get denied the right of life,
So I may quit from this employment or hopefully get fired,
Because the Lord knows I’m tried.
Dear Self, what do I do when my own laws are defying me,
When my own fighting spirit is fighting me?
What is the very purpose of me bleeding
My hollow sorrow onto the empty pages of this diary,
When it is clearly seen that my own emotions are viciously spiting me,
Provoking me, righteously, to look inside of me?
Then tell me what is left
Over after my own insecurities create an internal rift?
This all down-plays, rather than uplifts my self-pity and grief.
So what do I then do when my whole philosophy is truly screwed?
So what do I then do when my soul tends to betray itself?
I ask that you answer me this,
Dear Self.

The Fact of The Matter [pt. 2]

2008-10-19T15:30:00.000-07:00

Life isn’t that easy.
Life isn’t fair…but if it is, why the hell has no one else told me and let me in on the secret? Life’s not meant to be a walk in the park, a truth I discovered while living it. Day by day I came to see that the way one sees things isn’t necessarily how it is. For all I know, even these very words that you’re reading now may be nothing but pure fiction and fabrications of a confused mind, and nothing in this world is fact – and THAT’S a fact! Maybe that may just be the only true fact you will ever hear, read or bear witness to in your entire life! There are no facts, only opinions and lop-sided views of actual reality, true course of events and situations that have been mutually agreed upon by those nameless faces that don’t truly grasp the essential meaning behind the effects of what arises from the misuse of information, contorting plain reality into manipulative propaganda, distortion of truth, bending it to better suit individuals, when they themselves don’t understand the bear simplistic, the core fundamental that is that the possession of pure untainted ‘truth’ (whatever that is) is far more important. Is it so hard to believe that, in a collective, the eventual flourishing of the whole is of greater overall value than that of a single individual? Take this for example, an ant does not gather food tirelessly, with out rest, every day of its life for itself, it does this for the greater survival of the entire colony as a whole. Imagine if that single ant had to somehow manipulate the whole colony just to make itself look better from the outside, e.g. Informing the colony of an endless source of food located in some place far away, when there is in truth no such source at all, this leading to the deaths of countless numbers of other ants and causing the eventual demise of the entire ant colony because of one ant. In actuality it is only human society and the twisted mentality of the people living in it that could ever find logic in that reasoning. Like the ant in the analogy, this is how certain individuals reason with the truth. They see it as expendable, thus perverting it into what they call ‘fact’ and serve it up for us to eat, and sure as hell we lap it up as if it were the sweetest tasting dessert, not knowing that we are consuming the very poison that devours our society from the inside out.

The Fact of The Matter [pt. 1]

2008-10-19T15:23:00.000-07:00

We all get to this point in our lives where we start to question ourselves. That point where we begin to question the very intentions for our actions and even our own existences. I recently reached that point, and upon reaching it I came to realize a large number of things about myself; things I didn’t necessarily want to know. As they say, “the truth hurts”, and in some extremely sad cases the excruciating pain that the truth inflicts is nothing short of inhumanly gruesome. This brought me to ponder a notion, with this as an evaluation of ‘truth’; does it stand to say that we may hide from the truth and blind ourselves to reality? I’m not talking about whether it is right or not, because the question of the moral obligation to not turn a ‘blind-eye’ can be equally argued on both sides. What I’m asking is, is it easier, is it better, or is it even possible? Is ignorance ‘truly’ bliss, or is it a gaping chasm whose soul purpose is to trap the narrow-minded feeble fools of this world?

Look at it like this, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you”, but it is only human nature to fear the unknown. So now it seems that a choice arises, either: posses the truth and live in pain, or evade the reality and thus live in fear of the unseen mysteries of the very world that surrounds you.

Wounds of Our Love Lost

2008-10-19T15:20:00.000-07:00

I tried to hold on,
But I couldn’t go on
Living a lie.
Believe me I tried,
But it seemed that destiny denied our love the right of passage.
The bandage I wore to hide the wounds of open hearts
Hardened and broke in shards,
Like forgotten pieces of our broken hearts.
Spoken utters of secret whispers awoken by choking emotions
Noted by those that listen
Beyond plausible reason,
But instead trust in the truth making my heart beat quicken
And the truth is
I felt more in love the more the plot thickened
Emotions risen
From the very moment of our meeting
Everything I felt then was just as real as these words written.

I Don't Want to Remember

2008-10-19T15:19:00.000-07:00

I cut myself...

and watched as the pain left
my open flesh
etched
as the razor blade swept
over memories
and swept away
memories that refuse to let me rest.

Awoken by stuttering utters as this piece is read.
I choose to suffer for no other as my peace is red.
Screw what all of you perceive as correct!
How about you try living an existence bathed in regrets,
But not cleansing of the stains of mistakes!

The truth is a fake,
Changing to societies sway.
If society may leave me to live with it my way…
I trace
Trails of bread crumbs I left along the way,
So I could find my way back to my fantasies each moment I’m awake...

Do not judge my touched skin!
Do not rush to point fingers!
You don't know where I’ve been,
And I don't want to remember!
Condescending with your grins,
Which cut deeper than razors!
And as the tears fall from my chin,
My sins, replaced by endless winter...

Drug Induced Coma

2008-10-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

I should hold my tears in my eyes and die with my sorrow by my side…
Waking in the morning in the hopes that maybe my death might come tomorrow.
Still far from hollow,
But closer to non-existence than ever.
The future denies me the rights of the Death Bringer.
So I let the truth linger about my fingers because I haven’t the guts to grab it…
I haven’t the sense to grasp it…
The last hits of a drug that ran rampant through veins that contort and constrict around my fists,
(Sapping my resistance)
So overlapping that I’ve lost all hopes to map it…
The same narcotic so splendid that its high leaves me low…
Lower than when my own aspirations overthrow me.
This hypnotic narcotic that shows me that I don’t even know me.
The justice in me wills that I don’t see tomorrow,
That I may never smile.
(What’s to smile about when it seems that the whole walls been thrown to me?)
I may never show sympathy,
Because that courtesy’s never been shown to me…

Don’t you pity me?
Well don’t because it was all of you that made the guilty me,
And helped to make real the sin in me.
And when I die just be glad that you’re finally rid of me!

So let me let the toxic tonic I call The Narcotic drown my consciousness
Silence the already muffled cries that torment me and take over my common sense.
Let the drug flow through my veins and restrain my remaining brain.
Let it kill my will to live and my self-respect
Since all of you have raped and taken everything from me,
So what you see is all that’s left
And all that’s left is a shell
Of the person I was before I felt the rush of The Narcotic in my blood…
Inside.
Now what you see is a man turned and twisted inside-out
So don’t be surprised if what you see before your eyes is absolute nothingness.

Peace Be Upon You

2008-10-16T09:17:00.001-07:00

peace be upon you, my brother
for we no longer fight for the same cause
the same freedom
peace be upon you, my brother
for we no longer think with the same feeling
the same heart
peace be upon you
for we no longer share the same dreams
for life and the experience has unstitched the seems
of the woven cloth of our fortune
peace be upon you, brother
for we have become lovers of sin
and has-beens to a fate that has left us hollow
left us without meaning
or purpose
peace be upon you, my sister
for the blisters that brand your feet
are marks of struggle and triumph
marks of no tear shed for bitter love lost
peace, brother
to you and your kin
for you walk on rose petals of forgotten memories
of a childhood spent grovelling atop broken glass shards
have peace, if it wants you
because the cross-road we have come to
is said to undo
the very peace you have clung to

Ndiphelelwe Ngumoya

2008-10-16T09:14:00.000-07:00

Ndiphelelwe ngumoya.
Ndizalwe ndixelelwa ukuba ndime ndibe yindoda.
Xola.
Bendibacenga ukuba bandiyeke ndedwa,
Ke ndigaba nokuthula xa ndifile.
Ngoba ndizalwe ndixelelwa ukuba ndibe umkhwetha.
Ndikhule ndibethwa, ndihlekwa, ndikhatywa, kodwa bangafuni ukundilahla.
Bendizula.
A lost cause unto myself, ndizama ukufumana indlela.
Khange bandijonge phakathi bafumane ezozinto ndizikhatheleleyo.
Khange bandibambe xakubanda,
Ngoba bendizalwe ukuba ndibe yinkosi emaXhoseni.
Babendiqeqesha, ngoba bendimosha…ndizimosha.
Abandibuzanga,
Babendibambizandla besithi, “Nyamezela ndoda! Yibanamandla!”
Kodwa ndigabayindoda njani xa, kulento ndiyifumanayo,
Andizalwanga ukuba ndibe ngumtwana?

Afrikan Propaqganda

2008-10-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

Afrikan Propaganda.
Apartheid slander.
My country was crying, but no one could understand her.
The white regime in place tortured and forcibly grabbed her,
Mishandled and whipped her right before they stabbed her.
I was born at a time when there was almost never laughter,
But every now and then I’d hear a giggle from my father.
My father smiles when he sees a White man suffer,
‘Cause he feels so much rage when he hears the word “Kaffir”.
Some foreigners claim that Afrika is their “mother”,
But where were they when they were gunning down our brothers?
Steve Biko spoke of strength and pride in who we are,
So he had to be jailed and later murdered by “die Baas”.
But at times being dead was better than being behind bars:
Being lashed, beaten and electrocuted by the racist white guards.
I can remember a few leaders who were bold and talked back,
Preaching the word of freedom and power in the unity of Blacks.
But also countless youths in the townships who realized these facts,
Who stood up for their freedom and got bullets in their backs.
We were trapped in a land where we were constantly attacked.
Although it’s over, I still find it hard to sit and not react
To this propaganda they fed to us Black Afrikans.

The Wiser

2008-10-06T01:28:00.000-07:00

How do you like the finished product?
I finally did some work on the drawing using Adobe Photoshop last night. I'm no expert, but I think I'm getting a hang of this program (to some extent) LoL
The Wiser has my hands, probably through default =0)
And one of my friends (Oats) pointed out that this piece has my girlfriends eyes...yeah, I know, it's wierd, but it wasn't intentional. It just kinda came out like that way.

Maybe that's the reason why I loved this piece to begin with.

I Can't Write

2008-10-03T04:59:00.000-07:00

I can’t write,
Because I’ve realized that my pen bleeds lies
Onto naive blank pages
And leaves nothing but devastation and destruction inside of me.
I beg of you to leave me to deceive myself,
Because the blissful kiss of ignorance is more welcomed than realities hard fists.
I wish that the fists that beat me
Could, with each blow, erase and delete me.
I can’t write because my own words can’t complete me.
I am hollow.
An empty thought caught amiss deceit and delusion
Reducing me from my previous 'nothing' to my present 'non-existence'.
I can’t write,
Or attempt to fight these imaginary feelings.
I can’t write and then try to decipher these words’ meanings.
Let it rain upon my head,
And perhaps the rain will wash away the dread,
But what I mostly involve my thoughts in is praying that within the rain I will disappear and dissolve away.
My moral decay has painted my world a dull grey.
That’s the excuse I use for why I don’t want my conscience to stay,
So it can abandon me like every other facet of me,
As well as every single thing that surrounds me.
I can’t write.
Spitting white lies into the night’s sky
And thus the night replies with a solution that is to die,
And when I do, don’t cry, because I’ve found the truth, that this life is a lie, thus
I can’t write.

Rise, Afrika, Rise

2008-10-03T04:57:00.000-07:00

So truly born of spirit that I feel it in these words
these words
I’ve heard
that curved the very nerve that kept me sane
kept me maintained in the warmth that is her embrace
Rise, Afrika, Rise
and be as wise as our ancestors said you were
I said I heard
these words
that served me feelings of comfort
thus come forth
and speak the speech that spoke in tongues
Your true beauty lies not in you leaves
but in your Roots
your Roots…
we bear your fruits
atop the bear backs of youth
Rise, Afrika, Rise
and be that fountain of endless blessings
that the thirsty search for
as words form
it’s words that bring me home
and stand as tokens for those who stand alone
with a broken trail of thought that stings, bitterly choking
Rise, Afrika!
Be not unspoken
Be the wonder inside a child’s eyes
The Sun of the fathomless sky’s
Rise
and Be Awoken

Reality (The Bitter Truth) [moving on pt.1]

2008-10-03T04:53:00.000-07:00

I can still hear the sound of trickling passion as our love ran dry.
My eyes left dry from forgotten sorrow,
Finding it hard to find meaning in bleeding hearts.
I seem to be tone deaf to the beat of hearts.
“There’s no point to even start,
Someone already broke my heart.”
But if what we had was so empty
Why do I still miss this hollow abyss?
Why do I still miss your kiss?
Why is it that it’s this twisted mist of fantasy that keeps me going?
A fantasy in which things weren’t that bad.
A fantasy that seemed to speak of forever.
A fantasy…
And that’s all we ever were.
The thing is that
I can’t travel our path again, because the realities that we’d never work,
Because the fact is,
We live in reality
And reality hurts.

Blinded by Love [moving on pt.2]

2008-10-03T04:40:00.001-07:00

Why is it so hard to accept that we were never meant to be?
Why do we have eyes if we weren’t meant to see?
And why can’t we see the truth beyond our fantasy?
Why can’t I open my eyes?
Why can’t I realize that each kiss from your lips is poison?
Why can’t I seem to turn back on this path I’ve chosen?
‘Cause every time you leave, you either take my heart with you or you leave my heart frozen.
I’m alone even when I’m with you,
Yet I find it so hard to be alone without you.
You hurt me with each look,
Because you remind me of all the shit I took just to have you in my life…
Blinded by love.
Like love was never meant for us,
And the hole in my heart
Was the space between us.
That’s why no amount of wishing will bring me to your touch,
‘Cause such emotions are like the ones I dreamt of.
The sort of dreams I can’t feel,
So I know they’re an illusion.
Please escape my mind so I may once again think clear,
So I may once again cease tears that run down my cheeks at the mention of your name.
I may never be the same…
Now that I’m absent of reason,
Now that there’s no answer to the reasons why you left to start with.
Blinded,
But I can see that my dried tears spell our loves end.
I’m finding it so bitterly painful to listen to empty promises,
And now, turning back would mean that you not only took my heart and reason with you when you left,
But also my vision.
Afraid that if I open my eyes one last time it’ll be to see you leaving.
If so, I’d rather be blind, deaf, mute…immune to your touch,
Than be blinded by love again.

Body & Soul

2008-10-03T04:39:00.000-07:00

From body and soul.
Our bodies are whole,
As long as I have you to hold.
The truth be told, I seem to fold,
Or unfold like old scrolls.
My love rolls forth.
You have unwritten,
No, rather you have rewritten the story of me.
Your exploring of me has led you to the core of me.
Adoring me has become the work of your soul.
Your works make me whole.
My body and soul.
I am oddly consoled by the thought of your whole being, both body and soul, being beside me.
Despite me you decided to kiss me lightly.
Flight seems to be the coarse of dreams as my soul is freed.
You complete me,
Both body and soul.

When I Call You

2008-10-02T15:57:00.000-07:00

When I call you on the phone
And there’s no answer
I feel lost for a moment in the silence,
Lost in the moment,
In the absence of your voice
In the abyss between the times we speak.
No message I could leave
Could make you believe
That not having you with me leaves me incomplete,
Like a beating heart stopped in mid-melody;
Left missing the sweet harmony of your speech.

I'm Looking for My Brother, Have You Seen Him?

2008-10-02T15:54:00.000-07:00

I’m looking for my brother
Have you seen him?
I don’t know his face
But I know his heart
I know it beats as mine beats
And his mind thinks
Similar thoughts to mine
Although I haven’t seen him with my eyes
His voice lingers in my mind
Just behind the midnight wind
And I miss him
Although we’ve never embraced
In a hug
With the love
Of a brother
The brother I’ve never had
Whose hands I’ve never held
But I know they reach out to me
So I’ll stretch out through the void
To find him
So have you seen him?
Maybe even in passing
That’s all I’m asking

Without

2008-10-02T15:50:00.000-07:00

The thought of losing her child still burnt her core, like flaming daggers that jutted out from her abdomen.
Her pains continuously reminded her of what her belly lacked, an emptiness as she searched for something more.
“I had more…” she whispers to herself, realizing that now she has nothing. Blocking out bitter thoughts that pinch the minds tongue like vinegar; restricting logical thought from speech.
Disbelief in her grief buckling her knees, so she kneels before her truth. The same truth that violated her each night…and each morning…every morning this ‘Truth’ would plunge a fist into her and rip out her baby, the same way it did back when it first hit her. But the pain of the absence never got better…just emptier. It still felt like razor blades to the back of her mind – a flaming pitch-fork of ‘what if’s’ tearing through her insides – just like at first…but emptier; less emotion…no, rather no emotion.

Feeling like a hollow shell with not much more substance than a vacuum and all the consistency of a fading daydream.

There are some that speak differently of heaven and hell than the rest.
They describe heaven as ones happiest moment, frozen in an instant of time; and that’s where they’d stay forever – in a single second of infinite bliss. That being said, it should be clear to most what hell must be – unfathomably excruciating pain in one split second repeated for all eternity.

For all eternity…all of it, not part, ALL! And that’s exactly it…what she lived in every second that ticked by without her baby to hold; without her baby to fill the vacancy that existed between her arms; the vacancy that echoed through her life revealing her absence of self or anything that resembled meaning in any form. What meaning could there be for her to fulfil? What meaning could there be for the death of her little baby?!
And with the silence that replied her cries and moist screams, came the shallow words of a clichéd proverb she’d heard once, “Everything happens for a reason…”, so to this anonymous author she held contempt, for she saw no rhythm, rhyme, or reason for her stolen meaning and very reason for existing and for bothering to breathe.

She begged for her sunshine that never came. She begged for an antidote to the pain and an anchor to keep her senses sane.
But still the tears ran a race down the length of her face to finish as they leapt like suicidal waterfalls off of her lips, cheeks, and chin to the even colder surface of the floor.

Without warning, all consuming tears that flooded and suffocated all other feelings.
Without child, and love of such, leaving her without an out to leave to.

Songs of a Beaten Foetus

2008-10-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

I sing the songs of a beaten foetus
Throat hung by an umbilical noose of excuses
Strangled by coagulated blood clots
That drip and drop lost thoughts
Thickening, half-caught in premature brain rot
Thickening what’s taught as the same plot
The pain stops.
Now stuck in a rut, trapped in the cage of Azania’s hips
Wrists twisted a little bit, split like a forearm slit
And the fires that dript from the drops that dript
Well in the womb and suckle on milk
Made sour by Azania’s un-nurturing tit
So bitterly sits her deeds on the young infants lips
That it struggles to speak
Over its mother’s stuttering speech
Cause the youth trip over her words
Although it’s her tongue that slipped
So hush young one, unclench your defeated (de-foet-ed) fists
Let yourself go, and drift towards the peace
I will sing your song
I will place the pains of cynical sympathy right where they belong
Replace the claims of impotent empathy, only right when you are wrong.
Incubating in an amniotic fluid of saturated ideologies
With a numbing sensation of lullabying anaesthesiology
Hypodermic? Probably,
But the thoughts acidic, commonly
So her pregnancy’s mismanaged
The child attempts to heal damages
Its will still bleeds real as feelings constrict bandages
Thus it’s pain that ravages
And playfully mishandles it
Knowing that you’d rather die than face the worlds savages
Although you’ll never know fear, you seem to miss courage
Hidden in the rubble of misdeeds and fiend rubbish
So I will sing your song, oh mistreated and beaten foetus
Waiting for that day and time that you will reach us
A day you try postpone and try to hide from
But it’s too late, and yes, the time has come
that you forcibly still born
but a body without a life, a still-born.

Where I'm From

2008-10-02T15:45:00.000-07:00

They say the news comes ‘round twice a day
Where I’m from
They sat time is spent sowing tomorrows
And reminiscing on the blessings of yesterday
Where I’m from
And where I’m from
The glow of the sun
Brings a tear to your eye
And caresses the skin so tenderly
They say the wind whispers through the trees
And snickers gossip to the birds
Where I’m from
Windows swing open
And welcome the “Kingdom Come”
With smiles and chants and songs
Where I’m from
They say the beginning never stops
And the sun never sets
On ticking clocks
‘cause where I’m from
is a place the colonisers have forgot
where I’m from
life has no cost
and there’s no love lost
with each tear drop
it’s where peace is freedom
and stands as witness to my existence
where they say your past makes no difference
it’s where I’m from.

In The Shadow of The Mountain

2008-10-02T15:43:00.000-07:00

Eradicate.
Fade away while fate awaits.
Sit and wait while your innards decay.
Laid-off and laid to rest bear,
Bear breasted and back striped naked.
Faking the art of taking in breath just to evade death.
Failing to be,
Derailing the thought to recreate me in the minds of the last ones left standing.
Repeating meaningless ramblings,
Mere gambling’s of a life that was never yours to start with.
Disregarded are retarded seeds with no heart beat,
But a single pulse
That’s very feel is false.
Feeling very real, but your not!
Like you forgot that you’re not part of the written plot!
You are a mere feature,
An extra in your own life’s story.
Rhetorical notions of imaginary voices and choices that you’ve never had!
Never sad
Because that would imply emotion and EMOTION is what you’ve never had!
Just be glad that times revolving barrel will eventually eradicated the very memory of you’re existence.
Your life shows the signs of a struggle that hasn’t yet happened

I Died with You

2008-10-02T15:40:00.000-07:00

If I cried a river that stretched to the very depths of hell,
Would it help to resurrect you from the dead;
Would it help to raise my head?
Although I would only be able to raise my head if I knew that the first face I would see would be yours.
But it won’t,
So I won’t raise my head,
Rather let me wish myself dead as well, so I may lay right beside you in the grave.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I hallucinate that you are awake and that you didn’t forsake me.
But you did,
So I’ll have to rid my thoughts of what could’ve been
If you could’ve seen another sunrise,
Another sunset,
Another day spent admiring the beauty that we saw inside each other;
The beauty that only me could see.
We were told that we could not write just because the rest of the world couldn’t read.
Within one another we planted a seed that could do nothing but bear fruit;
The same fruit that would our souls feed.
Now suddenly I realize that you aren’t coming back.
Suddenly I realize that the very substance that I lack is the same essence of spirit that resided in you.
And thus the meaning in me was laid to rest in your embrace.
Your tears ran down my cheek and dried on my lips.
Remembering you tears my soul because you died in a kiss.
Why don’t you hear my prayers?
I believe in nothing, since everything I loved in you has been reduced to dust and ashes.
My sadness clashes with my blessed suicidal self-sacrifices.
I do not believe in sight since your death has given me the insight that I am blind.
We were kindred spirits.
What we felt was far beyond Para-physics.
Every time we connected we flew far above the mental torment that was our life.
We lived as one person in two,
So every prayer we said had to be spoken twice.
Why is it that this night feels so cold?
My will to question fate is defeated
And thus so is my faith in a destiny that stands true.
I no longer believe in eternity, because my forever died with you.

Breathe and Cry

2008-10-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

Why is the wind at twilight
Colder than the breeze of the morning?
Why are there no arms around
When I need someone to hold me?
Why does it seem
That their concerns are all phoney?
Why do they turn their heads
In the moments I am falling,
And give me an icy shoulder
As the wind comes back coldly?
Why am I a natural disaster
Whose fates blamed on chance,
Although circumstance is a reply
To the questions I have asked?
Why is inner beauty never seen as that,
Although outer beauty’s as see through as glass?
Why are my problems of today
Always blamed on the past?
It’s like no one else sees this
As a frivolous task.
Why does this wind come back
When I’m struggling to gasp,
Taking with it this fickle hope
That I’ve kept as my last?
Why is it,
And why can’t I understand,
Why the most important points
Are the hardest ones to grasp?
And why can I only breathe and cry
When the morning breeze has passed?

My Expression

2008-09-18T04:59:00.000-07:00

Just did this last night during breaks while I was studying for my test today. I originally designed it as poster concept for the poetry sessions that I host on the campus, hence it says "Expression Sessionz - Do You..."!
This was my first time using photoshop [I'm a Biomedicine not a Graphic Design student =O)], so this was quite a challenge for me to do, which I liked. Another thing that made this hard was that it was started on Microsoft Word...Don't ask me how I made it a JPEG and worked with it on photoshop...It was rough

And so, these are the fruits of my labour.
I Love This!!
I hope you do too

Tell Me

2008-07-26T01:48:00.000-07:00

Would you believe me if I told you that this was unintentional?
The sentimental aspects of my sub-mentality merge “my reality” with “our fantasy”.
This is why I choose to take the chance to see you as a manifestation of my emotional sanity.
Clarity of mind no longer has bearing when I’m only hearing your soft whisper in my dreams.
That is why it seems that my eyes cry streams as I sleep.
Instantaneous.
Spontaneous.
Dangerous…
Since all this is still new to us.
Still true to us are the very feelings that eluded us.
The same feelings that cleansed us as life tainted us.
Tell me,
Would you believe that it’s these moods that paint us
And maintain us in this dance that enchants us?
Imaginary is the fantasy that is passing me.
Reality is only evident in the moments when we are happening.
Rapidly elapsing the time between us to intertwine our minds,
Striking me with more flavours than fine wine.
Tell me,
Do you feel what I feel?
Do you know that my heart bleeds steadily for you exclusively?
It seems my emotions, personally, have flooded far past “friendly”.
You enter my world and the rivers run dry immediately.
If so, then please turn my destiny around.
Please turn around and notice me.

Idle Hands

2008-07-26T01:43:00.000-07:00

Aborted Thoughts

2008-07-24T05:38:00.000-07:00

She finds a sort of temporary comfort in these words she constructs,
But
As she constructs such lines she feels as though she’s been cut.
Wrists slit while clenched fists bleed to death and die.
Aborted.
Aborted like her failed attempts of freedom.
Aborted like her faded dreams forgotten.
She should have aborted the thought of an offspring,
Thus bringing him the gift of nothing.
Aborting nothing.
A child denied of life.
Aborting thoughts of fear
Fighting back these tears
Igniting all that’s here
Thus her mind remaining clear.
As clear as this paper was before I put the pen there.
This pen tears
Holes in her eyes so she may leek tears,
So she may cry for her aborted child.
In the meanwhile she suffers from a syndrome that makes her regret her life.
In this instance it makes her regret her very existence.
The “would-be-mother” speaks in words of insistence
Whose very syllables are separated by vast distance.
While she idly caresses her empty belly,
Her hand forced back by a memory that forced resistance.
“What is the difference,” she asks with interest,
“Between my rage, my shame, my retorted speech and my aborted infant?”

What Previously Was

2008-07-05T05:24:00.001-07:00

It's strange how we met
how my heart bled for days
And the hole that was left the moment I went away
still stays
and stains my memories
like black ink foot-prints
on the yellow brick-road of life;
The one of emotion, I wouldn't travel twice,
But I did and I lost;
It seems that I gamble life.
Rattled dice strike the floor
Like the stars that cascade your eyes.
Reiterate the size
of my heart as I reminise on a marveled life.
My heart refused to bleed,
so it started our love
and you were clearly incomplete,
so you gave us up.
Everything we had now reduced to dust,
Thus the scent that lingers like a familiar touch
reminds the two of us of what previously was.

Stay with Me

2008-06-11T15:38:00.000-07:00

Stay with me.
Answer my call
with a touch,
with your love,
within reach
of my heart.
Hands in search
of the start
of the wounds
that I guard
with the shards
of a love
that stay sharp
like the barbs
of a wire,
formed from betrayed desire,
that grip like the pliers
that twists my insides.
So stay in my mind,
don’t leave,
please just stay,
this I pray,
and as far as I trail,
all that stands in our way
is the way feelings sway.
Although I try as I may,
I just ask that you stay.
Stay with me.
Aimlessly gambling,
playing and rambling.
Making excuses
as the past still professes
to tighten the nooses
that leak out the juices
that ooze out a poison
of choices,
whose voices
sing choruses
that will us apart.
A part of absencia.
Please stay in dementia.
Illusions are pleasure
when I feel your presence
in the touch of your essence,
so I may be
free from the stresses.
No longer guessing,
I’m schooled in the lessons
of longing caresses.
So stay in the message
that eludes the six fences
I trust as my senses.
Escaping the breaking
of feelings misplaced in
a heart that was faking.
Just take me,
embrace me
in this place,
this new sense
of wholeness.
I’m hopeless,
just no less
if you don’t…
stay with me.

Please

2008-06-08T15:56:00.001-07:00

Please...
Say that you don't love me.
Say you never did
At least that way my heart will no longer long for you
I won't have to be strong any longer
Since my heart will no longer belong to you
At least then my heart will cease to sing this song to you
Please
Say that you don't love me
I need to hear that you don't care
Maybe the thought that our love was false will comfort me

Cyan Sky

2008-06-08T08:03:00.001-07:00

I await tomorrow
Following the sun on a stage of cyan sky
These kisses of bliss just miss my fingertips
So passion drips from the arteries of my heart
As I start to gaze back at memories of perfection
Embodied in a being only seen by my eyes
The same eyes that gaze at the sunrise
And wait for fate to take my hand
Bringing me to you
Praying to the rising sun that this love is also clear to you
The evidence of truth
Served on your face with a smile that shines like fine jewels
Heaven possessed by you
So when I look at you it seems your blessings rain from the blue
If only you knew
That if my heart wasn't trapped in my chest
It'd be held by only you

Another Sour Tear

2008-06-05T08:31:00.001-07:00

The road to my heart is paved with tears,
Like a labyrinth with no clear path
Yet no dead-ends.
These winding streats bent worse than the lies I've heard.
Unstable rocky foot-paths,
Like black veins leading nowhere.
Forks in roads that end at one place,
But still I stop to ponder which to take.
So are the choices I make all futile?
Similar to luscious green trees, whose branches intertwine like the streets within me,
But still fail to bear fruit, reproduce, prolong existance.
So it is doomed to whither, its busy street-branches not even good enough for fire-wood,
In a fire that could have brought to life these dead streets that are my heart.
But there's no use in turning back, holding tight crass hopes
Of what would've, could've, should've been.
Drop another sour tear.

In My Head

2008-06-05T07:41:00.001-07:00

This is a pic of me that I took earlier this year, I think it was d morning of the day that I took 'A Cry'.
I know, it's kinda dark and ominous, but I find it stimulating to look at something that'll make me think, "What was goin' through his head? What was he on?"
Connect with the thoughts behind the pics, and you'll find a wealth of emotion and knowledge that is hard to discribe in writting.

They were right...
A picture does say a thousand words (at least).

Retina Bleeding

2008-06-05T07:39:00.001-07:00

retina bleeding
tryna read between the lines
but there is no meaning
the things that i'm needing
seem just beyond my reaches
feeling defeated
thinking of myself
"Cummon, what were you thinking?"
vision is religion
believing only what you are seeing
looking through the windows of the soul
with retina bleeding

A Cry

2008-06-05T02:52:00.001-07:00

I Am

2008-06-05T02:47:00.001-07:00

I love this piece! It was done 2 June at like 2am. I've been tryin' to learn how to draw faces, clothing and touch up on the finer details of the human form. For me, this piece is amazing...it shows a world of progress where I am gettin' better.

This picture, for me, embodies hip-hop and my love for it. The true hip-hop. The true meanin' of RAP: Rhythm And Poetry.
Not this crunk-rap phenomenon that it seems the world is lulled by as gingerly bob their heads to! It is not mind-numbingly idiotic lyrics that you sing along to just 'cause the beat sounds tight.
Hip-hop is...and will never be again.

The Wiser

2008-06-05T02:29:00.001-07:00

I did this piece right after 'I Am', so it must've been 5am 2 June. The right hand took me close to an hour. Kept erasin' it 'cause it never seemed to turn out right.
I'm loving this pic to scary extent.
Still don't know why...There's jus somethin' about it.

My Sunflowers

2008-06-01T19:31:00.001-07:00

hello my sunflowers!
can you see past the clouds yet?
is there something broken inside of you,
or is it them?
just because they can't hear the voices,
they say they don't exist!
maybe they just didn't listen
when you hissed, "Don't jinx me (bitch)!"
the broken can't fix me
but they can grind the truth
so fine you can sniff it.
just remember the sun there
remember, the sun cares
and you're not alone here
we've all had relations with fear
and questioned the reasons why we stay
but behind the sky, and hidden in it
you'll find the sun basking in it
not 'cause you've got a condition
but because of the conditions you live in
your feelings - trying to bottle it up and sell it
why not let it be?
Yes, I'm a machine, you see.
it's not easy, but someone's gotta do it;
see the tragedies and the you that kids within it;
not only they the scenes
but be one with the series and live with it.
So thank you, sunflowers
and all the good in you
For you like the stem cells
and they love your truth.

Dedicated to: Zipho Sidumo
Inspired by quotes from: 'Stunt', 'Leah', 'Beast', 'P-Lady', 'Oatie-san', 'Triple C's', 'Phat Batman', and 'T2'

Like Rain

2008-06-01T13:00:00.001-07:00

Like Rain.
Like trickles of sunshine on my face.
You transformed my soul, but also took my body to another place.
Just in case I'm forced to face this world without you,
Please may you take my hand
And take a long walk with me?
Or maybe we could even stand...
Together...
Forever...
Never overlooking your inner beauty,
Or mistaking your breaking heart as faking.
You are...
Breathtaking.
Death fading as you cause life to spring forth in me.
Your very voice causing me to leave words caught in me,
Like Rain...
Caught in Clouds.
Our love resounded out loud...
Like Thunder,
That strangely brings us comfort,
That suddenly brings our love forth.
We are an inseparable pair, but apparently so are "Love & Hurt",
And apparenly they go Hand in Hand.
But our love is immune to the pain.
Our love is the cure.
Our love is just pure.
Born so purely of metaphysics that no corruptive hand can taint
And not even our lost thoughts can stain.
Too wild to be tamed...
Like Rain.

She was a Dream

2008-06-01T12:30:00.001-07:00

She was a dream.
Too good to be true,
so I knew she wasn't real enough to touch.
Angels don't fall in love with anything less than perfection.
So I feel I am kept safe in her affection.
If only I could act out my intentions and mention to her what she means to me.
But around her I am mute.
I cannot utter any words,
but those I do manage to force out don't come out as they were meant.
She was heaven sent.
Skin caressed by the sun.
Voice of endless melodies.
Void of meaningless thoughts.
She caught my heart and soul.
Captured my spirit
And with it she coupled with me joy.
Lost without her,
Not because I lost my way, but because I lost the will to let myself be found.
Kneeling before her feet waiting to be swollowed whole by the ground.
Without her whisper I have no words,
So my very soul refuses to make a sound.

The Evidence of You

2008-05-21T19:38:00.000-07:00

i live within the lie.
i live hidden behind and inside the pseudo-sight of the enlightened blind.
i listen to their lies.
i become their truth -
more ruthless than the choking screams of those who dress themselves in toothless grins from bitting of more than they could chew.
You don't want my truth.
You want my silence.
The one thing I refuse to give,
so you rape my spirit until you've surgically removed it.
You crave the taste of shame left on my lips from hiccuped memories of parasitic inner voices.
Needless to say
I am greedy...
Dreaming, pleading, thirsting, and bleeding the feelings that promise me less than No Meaning.
They empty my being...

You say you know.
You say you tug and tow,
feast and grow,
off life's ebbs and flows.

But oh, how you've been decieved
by the very souless spirit you possess with glee and believed.

When did you learn to accept these falsified realities?
Who said you can't escape?
When did you remember to forget me?
You want what you can't take!
When did you fall victim to the lie
that your thoughts and pregnant pauses are born of wisdoms seed?
When did you stop dreaming?

When did you cease to be...Me?

[Do not search for truth; all you will find are seductively disguised lies.
Instead, seek yourself, and find the only truth there really is...The Evidence of You.]

Stranger

2008-05-19T10:06:00.001-07:00

I'm a stranger to myself,
A ghost in my own mind.
I sleep eyes open,
Blindly following.
Still I'm a stranger to myself.
An imposter of myself.
I wonder aimlessly,
In search of nothing.
But still I'm a stranger to myself.

New Beginnings

2008-05-18T09:44:00.002-07:00

I see my future in your eyes,
I feel our destiny when we touch,
a new surise at each corner of your smile.
The light that leads me out from my darkness is you.
You are my secret,
frequently whispered for the fear that you might just fade away.
Every day, still I stay bound to you.

Looking into Your Eyes

2008-05-18T09:44:00.001-07:00

looking into your eyes is a journey.
a path that I frequently travel
on a road that I'm afraid to walk.
It's your gentle caress
that gives me the strength
to take that firt step.
You're my proof that God exists and He truly has me blessed.
The rest of forever has no meaning
if its path is leading me never seing your angelic face again.

In This Instant

2008-05-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

i lived our relationship
in attempts to wrap your body with words.
to heal the hurt of souls
and let my hearts emotion be heard.
using tactics of obserb affection,
speaking of tales untold,
'cause i see the world through loves perspective,
so i will the universe to sway in my direction.
acting with no hesitation
'cause your effect
coarses direct.
of course it affects
the cause and effect
of your constant affection.
i reply with pure intentions,
a perpetuation of bliss.
this is
the presence of heaven contained in this instant.