Winners are at war

Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled to fight for what’s strictly theirs.

Their lips spit firestorms and they speak deluded insight.

We are at war with ourselves. We are at war with the colour of our own skin.

We are at war with what is right; fighting our way out of a plight.

Our complex, strong, and oh so inequitable minds emulate backbones loaded with sharp objects.

 

Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled to fight for what’s strictly theirs.

Why be happy when I can be thrilled making you dejected?

What is yours is not yours. It is mine and I will assassinate for it.

Why be rich when I can be rich making you poor?

Triumph is appealing to the eyes of those whose efforts are instinctively futile.

 

Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled to fight for what’s strictly theirs.

Brown bread and butter are not enough to those who are unschooled.

Scold poverty, and goodness and mercy shall follow you.

School your enemies, and madness and mediocre shall comfort you.

Uncouth behaviours reap more riches than the efforts of the prudent men.

 

Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled to fight for what’s strictly theirs.

Hunger has reached far deep; it’s entrenched on the grounds of resentment.

Corporate passages are unoccupied, our brothers are demanding what’s not theirs on the streets.

School doors are closed, our sisters lie in wait for answers in clinics and hospitals.

The Gods are confused. Our mothers and father are shunned. Why is our earth in flames?

Happy read!

Mr. Leadership,

I see greed and silver coating your tribal hands, fiercely.

Why is it then that my palm awkwardly covers the shame and guilt on my face?

What is wrong with my face? What is right with your hands?
 

What is this poverty of which we speak?

When your feet are flooded with the water we drink?

Who is this victim to whom we refer xa eyakhw’ inzalo ixukuxa ngobisi?

 

Yintoni na isisele xa izidywili zimunguny' iqhosh’ elingenamngxunya?

Yinton’ iqhosha elingenamngxunya kwiintsana eziqhel’ ukuhlafun’ iimpukane?

Iyintoni yona inkolo kulowo ungenasono?

 

Take my damn hand, lead me on and bend me over.

The truth I hold will never unfold.

My wasted penis throbs at the sound of your monologues.

 

I could cite excitement, but I’m in pain.

I could correctly rape newness to restoration.

But, what is to come then when I could never clean what I could have in the shower?

 

Happy read!

Daunting simple escapades

Less than a week ago, a woman held pride in being a mother to a petite, and incontestably, pretty young girl. Today, that woman draws a black veil over her naturally-haired cranium as she mourns a life that has escaped; not so much prematurely, but gutlessly.

Surely, the universe is better at bestowing indelicate ideas with imbalanced solutions. As a result, fledgling men and inexperienced women have come to disregard the affirmative capabilities that lie in their strengths.

Today, our minds teach our hands nothing, but to tie, properly, a rope around the neck.

Our view on life has changed; from that which maintained an upright perspective on all things but failure, to promptly appreciating the quick effect gorging pills have.

All of a sudden, the anguish instigated by a horny individual is enough to push someone’s Mexican-weaved sister over the edge. And, an unexpected slap, from the man whose sperm created the image one has become, holds the potential to lead a young boy to strive to kill himself.

We live in very challenging times.

Happy read!

Sit down and listen!

No! No! NO!

Sit down and listen!

Yes! You, sit down and listen!

Yeah, sit down and listen to me!

I am talking.

Man, I’ve been watching you pace the streets, moving up and down

Strutting the ramps and expressing His and Hellos to strangers and common men

While I struggle to get you to pay attention

I walked wide miles, at times, helping you sweep your adversity

Today, your glance my way has become short in supply

You forget the city has painted me all sorts of colours for you

Third parties intervene, for you to even look my direction

Were we not a niddle and a thread at one point?

One of us had a hole in which the other penetrated, being the thread, of course

Woman, I see you ripping the runways with your long legs carried by your fierce attitude

Your lips following suit, as they seem to have forgotten to keep mum

You walk past the homeless, waving like Elizabeth at the rich dudes

The next thing you will be blowing kisses at Charles

Gosh! You are talking and you've been talking

But, I need you to listen.

I need to speak and you need to hear me

But first, sit down and listen!

Your lips have been moving

Not only when you were eating, but even when I was bleeding, you didn't even see 

You were not paying attention!

Sit down and listen!

I have always wanted to tell you I love you 

Time permitted, you deluded all chances

Now, my courage is garbage that has filled my whole being with fear

Just like water flowing shamelessly on a drain, I am miserable

At least, I look the part

Girl, sit down and listen!

Forget the sidewalks, who walks anyway?

My opinion is choking my throat

I am bleeding and my oesophagus will rot.

My eardrums are filled with your voices and the words you utter every day

Simply because I listened to you and I heard you

You silenced my view; hence I am dead inside

I have pursued your traits, and I’m led to your ruin
But, I want to open my eyes.

I want to see.

But first, do you hear me, sliced and torn to pieces screaming out your name?

Can you even see me?
Clearly you reside in infamy

No! No! NO!

Sit down and listen!

Gosh! I have been walking around like a zombie

I pleased you, forsaking my core existence

Actually, I lived you. I was you.

You made me you and I grew so day and night

Just like the best of my rival, you beheld me corpse

You knew it was not me, but you held up high the idea

I am done.

Men, women and beings of forged essence

Today is the morning after

And all things are neither your scrutiny nor plan

I am talking. You heard me.

Don’t glance this way, either way your ear will face me

Your veiled perception faded along with your pathetic spirit
With bare feet, I am stepping on hot coals carrying an aim, a voice and no resentment

Those will carry me further

Hopefully lead me away from your feeble handmade crown.

Happy read!