Potable water under the bridge

All it took was to lay my eyes on you, and all the 2008 memories sailed back. That brief five seconds I held you in my arms felt like infinity and right there I knew I’d be seeing you again, very soon. That knowledge became a reality that night and the day after until I realised, just like it once dawned on me seven years ago, we’re going nowhere slowly.

What is different this time around is the fact that I am wide awake and for once it looks as if you’re wounded by my maturity and disappointed that I found it easy to leave and never called; so much so you saw it fitting to antagonize my unfamiliar demeanors.

I’ll admit, I missed you. In fact, I want to be with you right this minute. Perhaps this is possible in my thirties – not in my twenties. Maybe you really are the love of my life and that your lingering taste in my mouth will be something I invigorate for as long as I find you sexually attractive. It’s also possible that you and I will merely live in sin and will continue to regularly make romantic and sexual overtures towards each other, and subsequently live to be loathed by many.

Drafting this post, it feels like I’m 22 years old all over again. God knows; I see you, I just want to fuck your brains out. The fact that your memories of me are simply the best and that in your mind I’m an angel is not helping. The fact that we both know that, every now and then, I romanticize the idea of having you stimulate my anterior rectal wall is not helping. The fact that there the question of whether or not I’d enjoy this remains a mystery is not helping.

One minute, I see us working. But knowing that you have no intention to even try and understand the concept of conciliation in our situation dislocates all prospects. Honestly, I despise this about you – which makes me wonder why I still hold you in such high regard to the extent that your soft sneeze would tear the impenetrable membrane that covers my heart.

Other times, the reality is inevitable and of course excruciating just by observing my friends’ facial expressions whenever your name comes up then I’m subjected to “are you okay?” and “say one word, and I’ll make him disappear” or “you don’t have to see him” sentiments. This is all because they care. Yet, here we are; entertaining the idea of making it work knowing very well this would never work. My poor friends…

Man, I love you. But this has to stop.

You have to work with me and help me let you go. Please help me stop hoping that one day you and I will run away together. Help me stop thinking that one day you will change for me or that I’d ever accept your irrational and selfish justifications.

There is a high possibility I’m lying to myself and that I’m fighting the inescapable; you and I truly belong together. Perhaps, I have to go back and experience once more what used to be in order to swiftly move on to the next chapter. A big part of me wishes that I’d pretend to make it work and have you hurt me in every sense of the word. Maybe then, it would be easy letting you go. But I also know for sure that doing this will damage my career; the one thing that seems to bring me constant joy. So, no.

I don’t know what to do.

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Dear S’duko*,

I lost you months ago. But, no day will ever be sadder, epitomizes despair and confusion, than the one where I realised I had to submit to the loss and let go. For a while, I chose to turn a blind eye to you pulling away; taking with you all the memories, the life along with the company we both had.

 Sure, as evidence recited, I fucked up. And me, being my mama’s son, I owned up to an error you, for reasons I still don’t know, saw as a middle finger. But then again, you had your lover’s eyes while my views could have been swayed by my millions former lovers.

 Silly me for actually believing there’s such a thing as forgiveness.

 Had it not been for the man I had, at the time, I would have lost my mind. Most likely made a fool of myself. His view was and still is that I have wronged you a million times before. How I wish you could tell him he was wrong.

 Today, it has hit me: you left with all the silver while I remained with the soul. Your shadows glitter and your presence are echoed, as I continuously gain emotional stability and physical growth. Yes, I have become fat.

 The voices in my head are correct to think I still love you. But my mama is dead-on to guess that I never meant much to you to begin with.

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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.

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Lovers on the cross

I suspend myself and swing my arms all over the bed,

My back pressing the sheets, his eyeballs lust over my nipples,

That time, his testicles hang on a cross

A cross nailed by a man whose name rings the doorbells of the past

 

The roles have changed. I am the man he is

And, he has become me, but his presence has otherwise multiplied.

I am skinny, boy you’re so fat.

 

He approaches. There is middle ground.

He finds me. I see him, coming.

He mumbles words evidently of erotic nature. There is middle ground.

I find him. He sees me, coming.

 

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The last days

You would swear there was never a start to begin with. The beauty of a gloomy winter’s day vanishes, and a summer’s day becomes a total contrast to what your skin once felt. This is nothing more than the ending.

 

Once upon a time, you believed and trusted in a cybernetic conception your mind centered on grounds societies believe to be concrete. The grounds are firm. The hands that lay the bricks are in question. Whose hands could they be? They are not mine. You claim they are not yours too. No one wants to take the blame.

 

Almost always, the dead take the blame. We will find ourselves wanting to blame the dead and absent figures for the same responsibilities our hearts dared us to carry Unlike a crossroad; flanked by options from all remits, further routes begin and come to an end where your toenails cease to grow.

 

Where you are standing is all there is. At this point, reality is harsh and the view from the back cooks pain that is too much to bear. Your shoulders have not become broader as a man by virtue of growing testosterone; your shoulders have carried this same experienced before.

 

Woman, your breasts have not just protruded as a reaction to affluent penises; your heart has been beaten hard, once again. It is swollen. For unknown reasons, our foreheads are like those of our fathers, except something as petty as affection makes ours spurt sweat; unlike theirs.

 

Each day we live, we crawl towards achieving our heart longings; you could find us talking even when no one is paying attention. We believe people hear us. The same people we hold up high. Yet they are betrayed by their actions towards us, and we still intend to follow.

 

Many have come and gone, leaving scars of betrayal and ungratefulness. A few have stayed in the form of the packages we have become; independent and hold an objective aimed at the same satiation. With them, we lose every bit of fear, stretch the hand and reach for their intentions.

 

Today, we have broad shoulders and big breasts that can narrate our pains, but I believe we are still not listening. No matter how many times the dawn seizes the moment; accentuating ills ahead, one yearns to be important in someone’s life and one preys after individuals who can satiate this thirst.

 

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Fragmented emotion

Unphotographable occurrences, significant utterances and attitude.

Offensive sighs, shifting of blame, middle fingers in action.

I am confused; what was meant to be is in pieces.

Just yesterday, sweetheart was an address.

Today, derogative titles are mine, yet I still hold close love.

Once upon a time, my heart knew only your bounds.

Of late, your hand clenches a scalpel.

The lips that once embraced mine speak ill of love.

Your eyes, at arm’s length, hoot undesirable fruits.

Incurable indifferences surface amid company.

Emotions have grown heavy; this has become us.

Your dream sees my end as I gather your soul from the bin.

Today, I see an animal; it approaches and it wails.

Just yesterday, you clogged lapdogs growling my way.

Of late, I dance on my own while you emulate a tired Gucci watch.

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The mathematics of lust

With all the veracity I have been clouted with in my existence, I still hold close the serene concept of a fairy-tale when it comes to relationships. Nevertheless, I am aware that many may argue that this is the same reason my many fairy-tales end-up mashed, on the potato side of things.

Given that my reciprocation in affairs tend to equal preeminent standards, offerings coming my way ought to hit the roof in excellence.

Having said that, the escapade my sexuality explored in preceding weeks has left me wincing at my initial principles; leaving me chewing reality with the same attitude I applied to my fairy-tale ideas.

I fell in what the mind understood as erotic hankering.  For the first time, my heart remained immobile.  My mind stimulated many parts of me; an effort that inspired me to pursue the prey. Hence he hovered in my surroundings.

Looking back to what had been, today, I am amazed at what maturity has done with my emotions. Also, I am pleased I kept at arms-length with the kill. Yes, I was keen on further developments. But, I was also interested in seeing and feeling his attentiveness. Alas, I almost took lead in a one man show.

Too bad, I could have made an amazing Romeo in Pretoria; despite the abrasive Joburgness in me.

I admit to this, with my objectives untainted and still clouted with a tranquil concept of a fairy-tale when it comes to relationships.

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Free, most of yourself

There is something exciting about honesty. There is something freeing about forsaking all the clichés and delusions concerning coming clean to an individual you know, love and respect. This could be you mother, a lover or someone whom you consider a friend.

That is why; therefore, the other person looks at you and cites positive energy radiating from your direction; an aura that fills the atmosphere in your presence. It is because you have chosen to liberate your mind, body and soul from the manacles of chaos, deception and from a life based on lies.

Of course, your expectations, with regards to the response you might receive after being honest do not necessarily have to be as positive. However, the right thing has been done; and that is practising a principle that will certainly help you uphold a rigid perspective to the world. Most importantly, to the people who are willing to be part of your life.

You have control over the way other people treat you. You have the power to shape their view of you and you can teach them to respect you by not pretending to be someone you are not. Being true to yourself and to the people you surround yourself with compliments honesty.

Free most of yourself by merely being honest, completely.

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Submitting to defeat

As if to emulate a megastar who has come to a flop, my belief in love has been tainted. The hope that used to be echoed through from each of my eyes has vanished; leaving behind a heart so opaque and broken.

For months, my mind made efforts to convince my heart of the light possibly visible at the end of the tunnel. Blocking all lies and exterminating supporting heartaches, my heart declines and responds only through imperceptible exchanges. It has even become a stranger to its owner.

It’s like I am empty. It’s like my career alone is not enough, anymore. It’s like I have always been in love. It’s I have always been loved. It’s like I have always been love. Of which, the on and offs have always been a big part of my life.

In an attempt to comprehend the crux of the matter, I wonder if it is the recently curved link that has messed me up or maybe the damage has been piling up since the first break-up in 2007?

They can break my heart as many times as they like, but they can never take away my belief and will to love. I used to say. Nowadays, I utter the same phrase, without even a pinch of conviction. Hence I am convinced; my liver is where my heart used to be.

Today, I look at men and all I see is men, not the species I would imagine devouring from my garage door all the way to the sink in my kitchen. It’s like I have just been born and all I can feel is hunger for food and thirst for grinded red grapes. I believe I have lost my ability to love. Actually, now I think I am disabled. Too bad the government in my country does not cater for victims of this sort.

Loneliness has always been here. In fact, he is the only man with whom I have had the longest relationship. I think he has been with me since the day my father escaped life willingly. He has seen me struggle with being a pink black from an early age. He was with me when I enjoyed varsity life and he continued to see me through my first and last times.

I used him whenever I needed a getaway, simply because I am used to him and he understands me more than my friends claim to.

Time to point fingers is long gone. I would know, that is what I do best. Until I cross runways with yet another pink black who appears worthy of me again, I will use this time to set fire to the rain. Simultaneously collect the bricks left of my belief, and reconstruct what is left of my heart.

I may be lacking to conviction when citing strength, courage and wisdom, but I still maintain that in me I possess some flicker that holds the potential to set my life ablaze.

I do not believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, there is no tunnel to begin with. However, there are numerous opportunities in this dark hour.

Happy read!

Black butterfly

By Cwengile Gagela

Black butterfly, trapped in your cacoon,

Tainted with thoughts that cloud, confuse you from what could be.  

I almost gave myself to you last night, forgot that u not really mine.

I almost let u in last night, almost handed you my heart,all in attempt to feel.

So we could stop these games and make this fantasy of you and I a reality.

So we can hide beneath these sheets and make that trip to paradise.

Black butterfly I, I almost felt something as you lured me into your world

As u gently layed your lips on mine.

As u slowly undressed me, as you layed between my naked thighs,

As our bodies moved in synchrony, with each breath going deeper and deeper.

I almost , almost let my guard down as u wrap your arms and legs around me

Promising to never let go...

See, this might just be all physical for you

And when you're satisfied you will discard of me and swiftly move along...

I almost forget that you once walked in these same shoes,

And were a victim of another in these sordid lurv circles.

That numbed u from feeling,

But I, I lay here stil believing in this thing called love...

Happy read!

Peace and ease

By Cwengile Gagela

Yesterday I was in this very room when

I caught a glimpse of freedom.

Silently, tiptoeing passed me...

I reached for it, grabbed it in desperation as if I was diseased and needed a cure.

I felt is slip through my fingers and I tightened them wanting no escape.

I'd been searching for it, finally I found it and as I embraced it sensations of numbness fluctuated through my body and I'D FOUND MYSELF...

AT EASE

AND AT PEACE

YOU SEE, GULLIBILITY WAS MY FOE,

BEFORE I WAS MADE TO BELIVE!!!

REPEATEDLY THESE VOICES WHISPERED

"Cwengile let go, give in, give in to these pleasures and feelings"

And as a result I lost myself in this cruel cruel world.

Ewe izolo bendindedwa,

Ndiphoxwe nguwe.

When I caught this glimpse of freedom,

I embraced it, dwelled in ITS numbness,

Freed myself,

From him,

From her,

From them,

From it,

From this bond.

And I...FOUND MYSELF

AT PEACE

AND AT EASE

Happy read!

Heart behaviours

Hello today, yesterday infested me with the other day’s love endemic.

And now, I carry a heart and, once again, it seethes

I am listening to every grain of its occurrences. I bear joy. The future is set alight.

I am not worried. The ducks on the queue. My preceding have been omitted.

For as long as it beats, I seem to excite a longing.

Not so long, yet it appears I can prolong it. Longevity is a possibility.

And now, I carry a feeling, to which I am a customary victim

As if to emulate a punishment, it hits even-handedly the sensitive parts of me.

Had my ear sought after my well narrated hurt, I would be resisting.

Body and soul.

Soul and mind.

My mind, together with my heart, ought to pursue all good intentions

Hello today, yesterday has afforded me some kind of a cure for my disease

As a result, I speed through corridors mending the cracks of the heart I carry.

I strutting with aberration

With a face painted with irrational grins, I interweave it with a constricted thread.

I welcome delight, as upcoming days bear fire blazing hours.

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Subject imminent

Man, oh man he’s a good man
Fixed to his word, he’s keeping up
He makes up for the less I hear of him
He listens, he remembers and he does.

I told him. He acted
Like I had asked, he spoke on time yet he broke me into pieces.

His speech was packed with fruit. But I don’t like oranges and litchi
His words tore apart the tubes conveying blood from various parts of my body to the heart
He hurt me. I made him hurt me.

My heart is tired
Leaving my mental supremacy in doubt of the intense feeling of deep affection my heart exudes from its aperture.

I made a fool out of God
Now my nose bleeds stupidity
He must be glad
Though appalled, I will applaud the timing.

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It's in me

Congregations can now pray for my freedom

Drama, urges and failures reside by me

Mama is clueless, but she is watching me

Carrying me in her dreams, I have my pocket elevating her

Chivalry escaped me; I am left with a grin

 Shivers cover me, I am left with remorse

And, singlehood welcomes me.

My soul is bleeding

I scratch the surface while looking for a cent

Rotten clangours sting my heart, joy vanished ages ago

I carry in my palm shame

I beg. I beg. I even nag.

I’m told I have exhausted my options

I see no room for action

I feel so slow, therefore I fake any option

My feelings are shapeless

I hear I even look the part.

I see new dawn ahead of time

The evening is quick to cast

Though cupid has died, Lucifer is around.

There's a hole in my heart

You would swear I am not sorry

I use toothpicks to clean my face

It’s in me to choose to bother

I infuriate liaisons.

But I come right on time

And, with me, I carry a pipe that tends to take a little bit more

I could be happy, but my people are happy so what?

Wisdom? Tell them I had it, but my ex is wiping his ass with it

Shame? Only you can see it. I simply love you.

I swear there’s a peg in-between me and my people

I never want them to go

Their toxic lungful of air is sweet to me

Never mind the knives stuck on my back, they never mean it.

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Couldn't have been love...

So many times, he’d say “I’ll be right back...”

I believed him, and with that look in his eyes I felt his truth

He promised me something, leaving me with a guarantee, certainty and his word

Tightly knotted with his, my heart felt the honesty in his voice

He never lied, he loved me

He loved me, I knew it

I knew him and I loved him

I watched him care for me always

He nurtured me, kissed me and splurged on me

He did things to my body and my mind would blast of ecstasy

His touches, kisses and love making tactics blew my every part

I could have never been ice, he melted me every time

He was mine and I was his

We shared not only t-shirts and secrets

We shared the sheets, cups and sweets

We shared a dime, our families and styles

I gave him my heart, I swear I had his

I walked the streets with joy

The love I got at home could catch me when I fall

I had eyes looking at me all the time with jealous minds and envious bitches eyeing shine

I thought they were jealous,

Then I heard a word; he hadn’t said things, he’d done things, I see

My sandcastle had collapsed, you see

This was a lie; he and I were a lifetime

We were more than just lust

My peace threatened to flee

NO! This was NOT the day

What were they doing to me? Breaking me?

The golden thread connecting his love to my heart a figment?

This was a lie; jealous minds and envious whores had spotted my shine

Because he loved me, he had to know

Good old us, were to deal with this; together

Mama, NO! He dealt with me, the way daddy dealt with you

Old memories emerged with shocking incidents, he was abusing me

He dealt with me, I could not believe

He’d mistaken strangles for stroking my throat

Coiled up in the same bed we’d lay in when he loved me, my ribs were in pain.

Today, he was hurting me, had he lost his magic?

Mama, he was NOT loving me, love had left our temple and it had dumped his sight
My screams cannot be heard unlike when I moan with him inside me

But, I had to ask him. Jealous minds and envious whores were denting us

But his punches were messing me

I see all we are had never been, his love had cost me a tooth,

And this way, I had never been free

In my face he’d set his footprint,

Then I knew he’d never loved me, he wanted to see me broken

My teardrops had built up streams, finding sanctuary on my scars

The most beautiful butterfly in my heart had died

As I looked up, I saw no glitter not even a star,

I saw a man whose expression was confronted by guilt

His penis had betrayed him; hence my love saw the door.

Happy read!

Disfigured, yet fall in love

I love walking. I love walking to the Spar down the street from my house when I've ran out of bacon, to Campus square when I want to do my groceries or to 7th when I feel like a night or a day out.
 
Sometimes, I try and convince my house mate - who drives - to walk with me when we go for grocery shopping. "I didn't buy this car so that I could leave here and walk," he would reply with his British twang.
 
A few times we have walked; me and him, or me with whoever is my visitor on a certain day and whether or not the visitor owns a car.
 
During my walks, I get to notice and value the structure and magnificence of the area in which I stay. I get to admire the trees; the wind blowing in between the twigs giving freedom to leaves that find their way to my dreadlocks. As green or emaciated those leaves are, I smell them.
 
I appreciate nature and on top of that I value and admire the unknown women and men I see on the streets. How well built they are, sexy and how smartly dressed - or not – they are.
 
As I go the opposite direction, I wonder if the person passing me is the person whom I'm meant to date or marry; my Mr Right sort of thing. I wonder if the stranger I just passed will ever come into my life. If he does, will he form part of the list of people whom I value or merely add to that which is filled by the men who have caused me nothing but hurt?
 
Why does it matter though, I ask myself. I mean what we expect, rather I expect, from the people I know sometimes come from strangers. The disappointment that I would expect from strangers, or lack of care thereof, has become something I get habitually from the people I know. At times, those we know hurt us so bad that our trust gets bruised and damaged. Particularly when it comes to relationships.
 
This is very true. I know so because I have experienced it; thanks to one of my Mr Rights who turned out to be not-so right for me. I spoke to him a few days back, and throughout our conversation, he showed me an attitude that shocked me a bit. I loved this guy. He loved me too, I felt it. I knew him so well. We were crazy about each other. Of course, this was up until he cheated on me with a guy he met in my room.
 
His work in breaking my heart went further when, after the guy he cheated on me with, he went for one of my closest whom I once dated. This is something that left me broken and damaged, and I have been living with this thing inside since it happened three years ago.
 
I hated him most of the time. I wished all the bad things upon him.
 
All that has now vanished, because I have forgiven him. Unfortunately, I cannot just forget. I think that is why I gathered the courage to speak to and interrogate him in regards to what he did to me.
 
"I'm so shocked you still thinking about this. We were young Dladla," he responded. Is he serious? Did he expect me to just forget about the fact that he lied to me and pretended as if he loved me? We were young? Young and yet able to do things only old people are meant to do? Young but introduced me to his aunts and his grandmother? Young but had the ability to deceive me? He cheated and yet he blames that on being young? He must have swapped his brains for bigger balls.
 
I became angry all over again. It was all good, I guess, that we were communicating via BBM. Otherwise, had he been in front of me, things would have turned ugly. This is the first guy whom I fell in love with. It was with him that I learnt what really takes place when two gay men are naked underneath blankets. Now, he expected me to just forget about it and the fact that he hurt me just like that? This boy is crazy.
 
Yes, his response to my questions disturbed me a bit. He did come across like he was making a mockery of the fact that I once loved him and believed he loved me. It was as if he was laughing at me for walking around with this thing inside me.
 
This is someone I knew. This is boy was once a stranger whom I probably walked passed on the streets thinking "Mh, nice..." But now, I knew him and he knew me and he treated me as if I am some stranger who does not deserve his apology or genuine compassion. On the face of it, he found me stupid and very childish.
 

Despite his view of the whole matter, this boy hurt me. He broke my heart and left me with a scar that dented my trust a bit. Yet, I still fall in love.

With that having happened; my relationship with him, his with the boy he cheated on me with and with an ex of mine whom I had become very good friends prior their affair; I stand tall with a very positive attitude in regards to love and relationships. I still believe in love. I still believe that I will come across a guy who will do what I expected this guy to be.
 
Happy read!