Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

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!

Thursday, February 6, 2014

To the God(z)

Realness was redefined when you bumped me.
What I knew came to never be.
What was strange came to be.

Realness was redefined when you bumped me.
You found my eyes, and I found God.
You lived so I can know you to be real.
You gave so I could learn to receive.

The frame of mind, all around me, is new.
You call it fresh, I say it’s love.
That which you inserted in me.
The same you welcomed inside you.

Songs need not make sense anymore.
You became the fundamental lyric my lips serenaded.
My mere existence transformed your frown.
You gave me your hand, a job I reimbursed.

Realness was redefined when I gave you the time.
Vaguely, we may have created light. But we had a life.
Happy read!

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Why don't you be the writer?

In between acknowledging the existence of homosexuals in societies and the subjects fully embracing their sexuality, a few heterosexuals misidentified their preliminary grasp of life on earth as an indication that they possess power and the independence to control the actions of those who materialised later.

Several gay people exiled themselves to cabinets with the intention to avoid promising discernment of any sort. Times evolved and countries held a fresh perspective on things, and then we had gay friendly households, welcoming cities and accommodative legislations. This inspired one straight mind to assume the sits of Gods.

For many gay men and butch women the journey has been decadent while some paid with their lives; a price silently ticketed by sexist presidents, uncouth neighbours as well as families driven by fear of being excluded by communities.

Because I am free, as a homosexual individual, in the presence of a sagacious conventional woman, she miscalculated my company and acquaintance for acquiescence to articulate to me who to lust over and who not to consider.

Knowledgeable mama felt she had to warn me as the reciprocals might endanger me. One could have sworn she walked the journey with me; from denying myself of the true me, lying to family and hiding from masses. One would swear she knows what is best for me. For a gay man.

You clasped silence and they utter a word. They feel your ears are famished and your life is losing weight, hence the feeding schemes they throw your way. They believe they are observant enough as you change your position and they amend your movements.

In between sleeping with other men for sexual pleasure and the straight souls knowing, the latter subjects became the artists who felt endowed to script lines for untrained gay people.

Perhaps, Madonna is no longer God. They are. Actually, heterosexuals are God.

Happy read!

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Never close our eyes

Without a doubt, a number of Christians believe that we are currently experiencing the wrath of God.

Being one myself, I seem to concur. I am looking at the saddest things taking place around me, the disasters claiming the lives of fathers who live their families behind, the fatal HIV/AIDS that steals the souls of young men and women whose potential was once fit for the evolution of this beautiful South Africa.

And that is what I pray for; I pray for peace in this world and I pray for a strong and caring government in this country…  Martine Whitehead, my colleague, spoke these words and I found myself teary just at the imagination of our homes getting demolished by issues we can effortlessly avoid.

Happy read!

Friday, October 14, 2011

As we lay, foolishly

He belonged to me just for one night. Stupid me, I failed to keep it at that. I had to strut around town carrying a feeling in my heart. At least, I think that is where it was and not in my pants.

Signs cuffed my belly as I humped and pumped his rubber, but I forced my mind to focus on my near destiny. I even faced complications reaching that destination due to being intoxicated, but I loved it. So did he.

The night faded and it dawned; the sun penetrated the window and its reflection hit the wall behind me and off to his face it went and it found comfort. He was beautiful. He was sexy. He was mine; tall, light with a loud mouth.

The loud mouth he is, he seemed to have exhausted his speech during last night’s blurting at the bar. Therefore, I took it upon my smitten abilities to chat him up. He reciprocated my efforts with looks and smiles that drag me to the deepest route of love. Now and then, his head would meet mine half way and our lips would lock. And every time my lips brushed his, I died a million deaths because I could not believe what I was experiencing; it was more than I had ever experienced before. And to think I have heard and seen it all.

It had not even been 24 hours yet, but I was in love already. I realised I had been transformed. And that exact moment I was hurt in advance because I knew what was coming. Even though we both did a great job in making that night the best time of our lives together, him and I were an illusion.

I forgot to acknowledge one thing; he can never be mine. Instead, I went ahead got lost in the moment. I sank in his kisses and I refused to shift from his side while we lay. But I had to go. I left, but it feels like he left me.

Poor him, he’s going on with his business, unaware that I wish one of us could get on a Santaco plane and fly over to play a scene of two fools in lust.

He belonged to me just for one night, but I feel like I have lost a soul mate. With that being said, it is killing me to have him in my life. So I pray to God and ask him to give me strength to get over this man.

Today, I have a price to pay. I mean, for every choice we make in life, there are consequences; good or bad, it does not matter. In my case, I have to endure a sore heart.  So far, not even one episode of Sex And The City has helped to erase him from my mind. I miss him every day. Hence I have opted to watch Glee with the hope of approaching the mending from a different angle.
Being infatuated by him is killing me.

I know I am to blame for taking tomorrow for granted, but even fools deserve a third chance.

Happy read!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Oh Twitter, thy excellence is a charm

The masses have dubbed Twitter good while some see it as bad and very ugly; with a tinge of backstabbers, groupies and ass-kissers. Nonetheless, judging by its ever accelerating membership, it is only fair to agree that Twitter is popular.

A number of ordinary South Africans have celebrities because of this form of social media. Certain people’s egos and personalities have become bigger and more ostentatious due to how smart, rich and important Twitter people have measured them.

I’m thinking, this is the reason some companies have taken up this platform with the aim of promoting their services and products. Twitter brings an audience that carries some power in regards to publicising something without being paid to do so. This is exactly what some companies sought after.

Many companies have succeeded is utilising this tool while some have struggled and, to some extent, failed dismally.

Their mistake, in my opinion, has been to emulate the typical angles big corporates have already worn and tired. They failed to build their subsistence outside the box.

I believe that the lack of creativity (in these companies) can be blamed to not completely understanding the majority of people who dominate on Twitter and how they can actually take advantage of their presence in the sphere.

Case in point, many companies tend to associate their brands and products with musicians, actors and whoever is always on television. The intention here is to make sure that their product is always spoken about or at least seen on television without having to go the traditional way of advertising and selling it.

That is good and it works. Sometimes.

However, these companies fail to understand that Twitter exist on their laps free of charge and with it comes a number of people (let us call them Twiples) who are willing AND able to promote certain products to a reasonably large audience.

The majority of these Twiples have ordinary jobs – that which we never consider exciting – and some of them are just students. But, their tweets are read, and considered important, by many followers who are impending customers for these companies.

For example, I have less than 300 followers on Twitter and many of them are industry individuals. But, I follow – and get followed by - two people; Tendai Sean Joe and Lelo Boyana.

When Lelo and Tendai comment or retweet a photograph I have tweeted it gets viewed by thousands of people. Sometimes, if they retweet one of my tweets or comment on it I will get tagged on comments by a several people, whom I do not even know from bar of Twitter soap. At times I would get follow requests based on their one and only comment.

One more example: I usually tweet English translations of Xhosa terms and expressions. So, a few weeks back, Lelo was asked by one of her followers as to where can s/he get Xhosa lessons. In response, Lelo tweeted my name. From that one response, I got loads of follow requests within one hour. For me this was unusual and very scary. Thanks to having locked my tweets, I was able to opt for people I thought were of interest to me.

These are the people many companies, public relations agencies and products should be associated with. I know only two, but I bet you there are many where they come from.

While they might not be musicians, actors or leak nude photographs of themselves to get attention, they carry a very useful audience on Twitter.

So, using them comes in handy, literally.

Besides, many of these musicians, actors and ‘celebrities’ (God only knows of what) do not have many followers on Twitter. Of course, this can be blamed to the fact that they hardly tweet anything remarkable. Not even something that helps their image.

Possibly, I have just blogged about something many people have already said or tweeted. But, I see no harm in repetitively preaching this kind of gospel. Especially after receiving more than two thousand views on a photograph I tweeted last night simply because Lelo commented on it while I usually get less than five.

Happy read!

Monday, July 11, 2011

I would have been the one

Sweat flowing from my dreadlocks, rolling down to my neck licking my grey collar and  loosening my tight black tie; I hopped Johannesburg streets heading to Bree taxi rank. I had knocked off a little bit late, but I was okay with time. My worry was getting home late for The Closer.

I would have been the one, Solange Knowles tormented my ears. I loved it. Enlightening charmer sent from where a Casanova lovely glare and I was chosen, I was there. To the whoreous doors of the rank I was appealing, as always, and so I let them swallow me. I saw my taxi and headed straight to it. I was tired but surety of how good looking I was carried me towards the transport to my destination. And yes, the fact that one day I will pass this building with a very expensive little thing rolling on four wheels inspired the strut in my walk.

Down with the headphones, I got inside the taxi and sat right behind the driver next to a guy who looked at me like I was some kind of fruit waiting to be eaten selfishly. I am sure he had never seen a creature so full of himself. Bless this poor guy’s perplexity.

I settled on the seat, sorted my fare and put back on my headphones. The well gets deeper, more unfolds. And then appeared a very dirty boy. He was dirty and I could smell him. He was a boy because he looked nothing like the man I am.  With the corner of my left eye I saw his lips move. I lacked interest in him since I knew he was most likely begging. Yes he was. I thought you plus me divided me from him but I discovered many more, and again and again...

Like a typical beggar, he attempted to look so sincere. I felt sorry for the few inside the taxi who had no music to drown into. I was far away. Or so I thought. And you don’t know you fill many spaces.

I could hear a sound. No, never mind the skinny Knowles; it was a voice that somehow merged into the song just fine, building a sound I would only imagine Euphonik and Black Coffee to produce. It went so well with what was enthralling my ears.

And he don’t know how he’s stole many places. And we all know we can’t fix him even if we tried.  I would have been the one. The boy was clapping. His lips were still on the move, only this time he seemed to be uttering fast and with passion.

I freed my left ear because I had to hear what he was cheering for. Ngiyakwaz’ ukukhanya kwakho, nokulunga kwakho, Jesu wam, Jesu wam, zungangishiyi la... He was singing; a song I got to know and fell in love with when times were extremely bad in my life.

I was boy, and had run away from a suburb I stayed in to a shack in which I had to share a blanket with six other children and could only eat twice a day. I left what everyone thought was the best life in exchange for a shack in an area where your neighbour’s door was practically two feet away from your and in your face!

Phelisa ukwesaba kimi, nokungakholwa. Msindisi, oh msindisi zungangishiyi la... There I was, with my Blackberry and its R400 worth headphones, comfortably and deliberately ignoring the boy in front of me. One would have sworn I was never poor and that I was rich.

I was the one, yes I was the one and yes that was my name inked up on his arm...Keyword was, yes I was the one. I figured out he was empty on my own. He had to find the answer in something not someone. The man beside me poked me waving a R10 note in my face. So I freed my right ear paying attention to the man I had puzzled earlier. He wanted change because he wanted to give this boy R5. It is fine, I will give him for you, I said. Guilt was there and only then did sympathy grow. This boy was me 10 years ago, only he was worse.

And we all know we can’t fix him even if we tried.  I would have been the one. My hand sank inside my Nedbank bag and came out with a Mr Price wallet. I took out the gold coin, handed it over to the boy. He refused it.

Ngicela ningishayeleni izandla, he said smiling and then walked away.

Solange Knowles was still playing, but it was as if there was still silence in the car. Maybe there was or maybe I was switched off reality – again - attached on a bubble inspired by the money I carelessly spend and the life I am never grateful for.

Those who were attuned with the world clapped. I could have betrayed my pride and ridiculed my ignorance by applauding as well, but the buttered sliced bread I had had for lunch that day was still fresh in my mind. What a hypocritical blessed creature I was; oblivious so prematurely of a journey I had had.

Yehova, ndicela Uxolo...

Happy read!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Use he who uses thee...

As a young boy, I wanted to have a straight guy for a best friend. As I grew up though, I come to realise just how close to impossible this is. Probably, the Gods foresaw this; hence I always ended up attracting females for good friends. The ‘straight’ guys that came close to me had weird propensities coupled with sexual fantasies which somehow comprised men.

I stopped wishing and started living. Nonetheless, I realised that finding good friends is as hard as bumping into this Mr Right many young people tend to speak of.  And, it’s as hard to maintain as a relationship.

Just like in relationships, some people are lucky as they have the same friends since primary school. Some meet their best friends at varsity and they last forever, and others meet good friends only once and even though they are still good friends, they are miles apart and stand the possibility to only meet again when they have grown very old and apart.

Shame, poor me...

I met my friends, the two most wonderful beings at varsity and together we became family. We became each other’s pillars of strength and we were always there for one another in every possible way.

We were so close, to the extent that the fact that our relationships never lasted we were not bothered at all. We felt that as long as we had each other we were fine, and that is all that mattered.

I remember our conversations precisely. They’d start off about our plans and dream jobs after school and what we would do for ourselves and our families. This would shift to money, oh how we loved money (I still do) and finer things in life. From money came men, sex and alcohol; these were our favourites as our experiences brought smiles to our faces.

My shenanigans made them laugh, even the stuff I had kept to myself in fear of being humiliated. Nonetheless, I ended up laughing at those too.

My goodness, I had never been that free in my life. I would walk the streets with so much confidence; one would swear East London had no homophobes. This two accepted me and made me feel welcome to the point that I failed to see any bad in the eyes of a woman. Well, and some men.

Life served its course; I got a job offer in Johannesburg, one went to Cape Town while the other one worked in East London. At this stage I realised that I am not only clingy when it comes to relationships. I am this way even in friendships.

I became so lonely and at some point I thought of going back home. The fast life in Joburg was appealing, but I could not see any excitement without my two best friends. My career became the only thing keeping me sane. However, I outgrew this. I accepted that all three of us were meant for different things in life, and if we were meant to meet again, we will. Just not today.

Just like a victim of a failed relationship of many years, now I compare every single ‘friend’ I meet in Joburg to my best friends. They are all different; well, extremely different as many of these people seem to be users, in the sense that they only ‘like’ you if you have something they want.

The most surprising aspect to this, is finding out that even the richest people use people – no matter how poor - and they suck other people for money – no matter how broke - .

This to me is very strange. My explanation to this has been that maybe the rich ones have also been used before and now they feel the need to do the same to others. Even more strange I think.

Having said that, I have come up with an attitude that works for now; Use he who uses thee and all shall be well. Failing which, I will get bitten by the snakes they are. But I am sure there are still good people somewhere around just like I believe one of these days I will bump into this Mr Right guy.

Happy read!

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

An axe within reach

Earlier this morning my Twitter timeline was buzzing with questions and comments regarding the story about the former Blue Bulls rugby player who was arrested last Tuesday in relation to the axe murders in KwaZulu-Natal.

According to News24, the police suspect this attack to be revenge, after his daughter was gang-raped and was infected with HIV.

While many choose to hide what they would have done had they been in this guy’s shoes, I choose to be direct about my view. I mean I do NOT blame this guy for settling a score; particularly living in a country where unfairness is of most importance. In many cases regarding rape, corruption and murder perpetrators are seen walking free. We see them and we know them from our communities and on television screens. Some of them are prominent figures, but our pockets are less capable of inspiring our hands to touch them. The laws fail us as a result.

Why then wait for a case that is likely to be unsuccessful to disappoint you anyway? Of course, taking the law unto your hands is not a right thing at all. But one must understand the pain felt by this guy and especially his daughter who is now stained with a disease so deadly it has killed millions of people in South Africa.

If these men really raped this girl, why were they still walking free?

It is about time the South African justice system advocate for the victims. Issues affecting citizens of this country should take precedence and those that are in relation to the country’s image (e.g; Dewani case) come second.

If anyone would do anything to harm my mother or my two younger siblings in a manner similar to this incident, I would make sure that they die. God knows I cannot afford good lawyers, but at least an axe is within my reach. Why bother consult a useless system?

Let this be a lesson to the rapist and killers who are still trouncing somewhere; some people do not take kindly to hurt afflicted unto their families.

Happy read!

Monday, March 14, 2011

Solutions... (inspired by Lauryn Hill's Oh Jerusalem)

Instances, examples and problems,
Emergencies, pain and silliness;
My body inevitably fail to connect and reasons cannot be defined.
Less sleep, more pills, mind drugged, my soul is dead,
And my young mind perished in the name of love.
Can I testify and say I was an actor, stage names, lies and imperfections defined me.
Forgetting lines, having no father but trusting in a man,
Failing schools tests, lacking direction but finding joy at varsity,
Limitations and boundaries dictating the light in my tunnel-shaped journey.

Instances, examples and problems,
Emergencies, pain and all;
Tradition abandoned, rules broken while hearts are in a process of being repaired,
Oh I cry, in the name of ancestors as a black soul
I cry in the name of those who live in the moment
I cry in the name of love; that which never existed.

I defined myself in the same way my enemies scrub their floors,
I explain my existence to those who felt I owed them.
I analysed my behaviour to a woman whose genitals stretched as God moulded my parts and shaped my heart, the same heart I have in my hand.

Instances, examples and problems,
Emergencies, pain and cluelessness;
I sleep around, I am sick; I no longer reap, but suck fruits less tasteful than bananas.
I forgot I was a man, I knew I was, but I had to thrust my being where my feet are forbidden as a man.
I forgot I was a loner, I knew I was, before I fell in love and felt good about it,
Deception fooled me; lust blinded me hence I often came quickly.

My traditions have found me, I chose you though I know you ditched me intentionally,
My heart is all repaired; I had to sort it, even though men stabbed me repeatedly in it,
I have found myself through instances, examples and problems,
Emergencies, pain and all.
 
Happy read!