Wednesday, 27 May 2015

African Song

I am from a place called Africa

A dark continent with dark people filled with melanin and dreams that belong to others.  People whom not only a skin colour but also dreams are referred black, those unsure of their ability and ready for the taking they say: Yet in the darkness of this night called Africa I fail to see the stars, moon nor the scorching sun that invites many to come tan while enjoying the beautiful warm temperatures of our seas during the day because the sky of Africa is covered by the wings of huge planes that carry many from the so-called first world but the only first thing about them is to take from others what doesn't belong to them. I am from a place called Africa

A place where those who want to demonstrate their humanity and at times stamp their dominance come to give help and take away its children, change their African given names into names that they can pronounce instead of learning what they call native names. A place without its own identity nor collective language as different parts of it has adopted languages of those who once colonized them. I am from a place called Africa

A place where people kill each other in the name of religions that owe their existence in other parts of the world but their own, A place where its children dreams are to grow up and be something else rather than an African. A place that has given birth to life, civilisation, a cradle of human kind but lacks humanity and murder each other like senseless controlled robots because even animals are capable of loving.

I am no poet, just a simple writer with no rhythm nor rhymes to excite the dance inclined mind of an African child whom this piece is written about. I am no philosopher with doctrines of right/wrong to gauge my intelligence versus that of the first world and its habitants whom this piece is written for. I am from a place called Africa

Monday, 4 May 2015

The champ says:: Man Up! it's called being a Father

The champ says:: Man Up! it's called being a Father: Brother I am writing this letter to you, but the words are so sharp that my conscious being cannot help but think that this is a perso...

Man Up! it's called being a Father


I am writing this letter to you, but the words are so sharp that my conscious being cannot help but think that this is a personal attack from my subconsciousness. But no it is not an attack rather a call to the individual inside of me to stand and Man Up!, to stop hiding behind the weakness that became the monster my father hid away from then transformed him to an abandoner, the only face of the father I know and can remember. This is a call to a man that is a prisoner to a young broken boy that he once was, but now that young boy controls his inability to love, protect and guide. 

Time and time again when I stumble and I'm hurt in my quest as a lover, brother, father then I am told to Man Up!. Man Up! you say? I have tried to Man Up! but in the absence of a clear understanding nor definition of this Man Up! theory we continue to fail for we do not know what defines this term Man Up, I have Maned Up! and ended hurting those I was suppose to protect, became a monster to the ones who initially saw a hero in me, Man Up! you say. Well I have been turned stone-cold in this journey of Manning Up, tigers don't cry, you are strong, faster, smart, am I? Pardon my ignorance but am I not human, can I not feel pain?

Well brother, today I am going to tell my son this: Son, I love you, I appreciate you, I am not always right and do not have answers to all questions but I have the knowledge of what I wish for you and that is to be human. To treat women as Princesses, to pray, to say thank you and pleasure, to remember that your mother is a Queen and deserves all your respect always, I want you to cry when you are hurt, I did but just had never let anyone see me, you are brilliant, don't worry about Manning Up it is built in you, work hard, smile, respect others. Well there is one thing I have always battled don't fall prey to it, forgive yourself you are only human. Now that you can read this letter, it means you have found out that I cannot beat all the wrestlers, I'm not faster than flash and have nothing on Superman. Disappointed? Well son I don't want to Man Up! I want to be a father. 

Brothers let your sons know....

Retired Super Hero

Sunday, 26 April 2015

Live Beyond Yourself

This one goes to you

My friend, brother, sister, even to you the one who has put a label of enemy to me I write this one to you to remind you of the road that is slowly becoming a memory to you. I am writing this one to remind you of the reason of your existence, the greater purpose of your life. Around you we stand scattered and divide your concentration amongst things that really do not matter, I want you to close your eyes and try remember the small limitless child you use to be, the one with little understanding of what was happening but carried a great vision of where it will end one day. Is this what you had in mind? is it where your vision carried you? are you on cause?

I do not stand on higher moral ground nor greater purpose than you, I  do not lead a greater vision than you have, I am no immortal and forgive myself for being insufficient. I may not know your challenges today but I do know that all of us are presented with a lot of them and temptations, we are equipped with a mind that has the ability to make things what they are not, a mind that could lead us to give away our lifetime of happiness for a moment of joy. 

Purpose demands of us to live a life beyond the little passing situations and joys so when we are in situations we should remember that our decisions should reflect the future we are born to lead, the purpose of our lives is beyond holding hands and walking down the streets in love, it is greater than the temporary kiss of deceit, last longer than the moment of lust we give into. It is sweeter than the bitterness of the betrayals of life, our purpose is warmer than the cold nights under the bridge, stronger than the pains on a body dying of cancer, it is permanent than the scars of rape, it a commitment that will never end-up in a divorce. It is greater than you weaknesses, it is more real than your doubts, it is enough than your insufficiencies. Your purpose has a light that shines so bright that even the darkest cloth of death cannot cover. Live beyond yourself, realise your purpose...

Sunday, 12 April 2015

Colour Fool Letter - A letter to all of us

Dear Reader

The one who sees colour before the person wearing such skin, to you who judges others purely on the effects of melanin. Well I guess we are all racist and defend our racism by all costs. I use to think that this was a South African problem until I saw white police officers in the United States treat the black men as shooting targets, same across the world. Well I am not writing this letter to attack whites, blacks, pink or brown whatever you want to be seen as. This letter seeks to help you think beyond the colour of the skin, assist you to hear the human rhythm of the heartbeat that is similar for all, to notice the colour of the blood you spill while it looks identical as yours. I seek not to make you one as you will not be, nor to unite you cause you see more differences that similarities. 

I only seek to let you know that it is ok to be different, that we do not need to be the same to understand and love each other. Maybe I am the fine one to talk when I still cannot even forgive the things that some "White people" have done to "some Black people". But as I sit and observe while country men fight each other about colour disguised by artificial things such as statues I realise that their battle is not about anything but the colour of their skin, I am saddened by my White friends who welcome me in their houses without noticing my colour to the point of using the term "them" when referring to "blacks" in their discussions with me, letting me drink and eat in the same dishes as them while their helper is not allowed to use the same glass to drink water nor allowed to use the toilet inside the house rather the one built specially for them outside. I am sad  when I visit my mother with my white friends and she still battles to call them by name stopping herself many times from calling them "Master" or "Baas", when my coloured friends take me home and their parents give them funny looks and start moving everything of value out of sight.   

Hope is renewed however when I see my kids play with their friends and see no colour, when they see no limitations based on the colour of their skin but abilities as human beings, when they wipe each others tears and blood without realising the colour of the skin but the pain they feel. When they call each other by name and not race.  When I come back to my life I realise that no matter what happens between me and my friends somehow they will not see me as a soul but as a colour, I am BLACK and we are colour fools...

Sunday, 5 April 2015

Who knows God personally? - Letter to Religion

To you

The most faithful, the godly, the righteous as you would like to be called. This is a letter to you in an attempt to talk to you about God, what do I know about God you ask me? Well let us just say I know that we are far from where we are suppose to be. Everyday I am reminded of how spirituality has been reduced to religion, how different groups of people would discriminate, kill in order to be the right ones. Every time I speak with individuals of a certain faith I am reminded why people have given up on religion, how many perish in the world rather than come closer to God because of the very same people who preach to be the ambassadors of faith. 

Oh how you have killed each other and the innocent that dare to find themselves in the middle of your battle, Everywhere around me I see a bloodbath of religion, the crusades that killed over a million people around 1095-1272, The Inquisition in 1484 that saw an estimate of 350 000 innocent men, women and children  butchered, The Witch-hunts from 1484 until 1692, September 11, Gwoza in Nigeria, Garissa in Kenya, Islamic jihads, Arab-Israel conflict, etc. How do you expect me to follow your God? The God that condones for those who think and believe differently be killed? How do I believe your teachings when you speak of love and forgiveness while you butcher those you are in disagreement with. How do I buy into your paradise in the forever when you can't live in peace with each other in the today, how can I believe in the blessings of your God when those around you starve while you live in utter comfort and luxury?

Oh you religious followers, has any of you ever wondered what your role in the kingdom of God is, have you asked yourself what your purpose is? Do you still remember what the principles of your religion are, the cornerstone of your existence? The teachings of Muhammad, The sacrifice of Jesus, The Peace of Buddah, do you still remember the reasons of what you are doing? Oh you mortal souls of religion, is your God the God of vengeance and not forgiveness, a God of killings and not healing, the Master of Poverty and not Blessings, is your God the one that condemns. Wasn't your role to heal, love and bless others, does God still live in you? What if religion is only poetry? Well I doubt this letter will bring any change in you while the Holy Book couldn't.

Sunday, 29 March 2015

I will become - Letter to my dream

Hi there

I hope you can hear me as I whisper a greeting to you afraid to speak out loud just now I wake you up and you begin running away from me. I have spend over 30 years chasing on you and the speed you travel with needs more that just endurance to keep up with you. Oh but how pleasant you are, all things I wish for surrounding me, no troubles, no battles and no struggles. You are so sweet that my life tastes like the juice out of a green lemon that still hangs on a tree, but then again I realise that at least you are not an illusion but a possibility. Oh beautiful dream when will I meet you in person, hug you, feel your warmth and comfort? 

Well unlike "Tumelo" my imaginary friend you stuck around and still visit me regularly, still inspire and motivate me. I have had days when I woke up in the morning without food in my stomach, no fuel in the car, days with an ATM card that a machine wouldn't even recognise and felt like giving up. The times when giving in to the little voice inside my head telling me that I won't make it and at those times you screamed out loud; "I'm just around the corner", well my friend it has been many corners that I even lost count but surely the ones ahead are much less than the ones behind me so I'd rather carry-on moving forward.

Where you are involved I become a soothsayer and see things in the future, I love the greenness of the grass I see, the crystal clarity of the skies, the brightness of the sun, purity of the nurturing rain drops that falls from the invisible clouds to feed my happiness. I see the well nourished children of Africa, striving economies of Africa, great leaders, I see cures of diseases and not treatment, I see recognition of philosophers, I see an Africa that is sufficient, no borders, I see an Africa of producers and not consumers an Africa owned by those born of it. Well my friend this vision is you, it is "My Dream" and i believe in you, till meet.  

Sunday, 22 March 2015

You are not my destiny - A Letter to Poverty


Well I don't suppose I should even ask you how do you do cause clearly you are well and striving, Africa, Brazil and many others are in a shameful condition because of you. You are responsible for such destruction, death, pain, shame and I am sure it makes you feel great. What I ask myself is where your origins are? Are you an illness, a condition created by some to control and shame others, are you a state of mind, an inheritance to the unfortunate? Where you reside there is so much taken away from the people there and the indignity to dish feeds the very same elements that turns siblings against each other, plant hate amongst nations and encourage abuse of many by those who are free of you. You turn humans into prey of the birds of the sky, soak healing hands into blood while they turn into murdering hands, your persuasive ways capture even the mind of a child that cannot yet comprehend language and then you turn into their reality.

I was born in an environment where you ruled, the world you had created and as I grew older I knew that I did not want to be a citizen of your country, a resident of your prison. I decided that you will not be my teacher and take every opportunity to remind me of how unworthy I am of anything better than you, I refused to be continually beaten and abused by you while I return for more. So I took a step, a stand against your rule, no you are not my destiny, you are not what I am meant to be.

You can remind me of the times I slept without anything in my stomach, show me a pictures of the same pair school shoes I wore all my high school life, the school uniform that was torn by the washing it received everyday because there wasn't an alternative and remind me of the stomach cramp that became my focal point in class daily because I had nothing to eat in the morning. Well guess what I am not ashamed of that history, it doesn't highlight your greatness to me but my ability to rise above such challenges and no I do not need hands outs. I am what God intended me to be and the greatness in this life is mine, I may sleep without food, sleep in the streets, have no clothes to cover my back but I have the will and the knowledge that you are only a temporary situation and not my destiny.

Sunday, 15 March 2015

Suicide Note


This is not going to be the usual pitiful letter and you normally receive, or should I say the letter that glorifies you and magnify your existence. It is a letter to put things into perspective, to place you in the space where you belong. One thing I will give you is you have taken away so much dreams, robbed the world of so much talent and stolen such lives. I wish I could tell you that your days are numbered but I realise that so long people don't understand their purpose you will remain in existence. 

So this is what I'm gonna say to you:
Your rope will not get tangled around my neck and overpower the beautiful scent of my cologne with the dark smell of death, it will never get a chance to replace the gentle smooches that caress my neck with the tight squeeze that will release my last breath. My legs will never shake with fear from the wrath of the grip your rope delivers when one kicks the from underneath their feet.

Your blade will never taste the sweet taste of the blood that runs through my veins, it will never cut the flow of power that runs through my wrist, the wrist that joins the blessed hands to the powerful arms that are made strong to hold life together. No I will not drink your pills nor poison as this stomach is filled with the fruits of hard work and the only hunger I experience is the hunger of success and a fulfilling life.

I will not jump down from any place you place me as the only direction appealing to me is up, I will not let you deceive me that where you put me to jump from is the highest place I will ever reach, no I am not jumping under nor in-front of anything but above what you make me to be. No I will not scatter my brains out for you, they are too precious and gifted, I will not send a bullet through my skull. No no no

Suicide you have made many write sad letters to their loved ones, well here is one to you. I wish I knew what you really are; a spirit, demon, state of mind, addiction I couldn't care to research. You have claimed too much that is not yours, a thief of note you have been, a liar but yet a looser and I win, do you feel defeated? good cause you messed with the wrong one I am #TheChamp...

Sunday, 8 March 2015

A letter to a Warrior

To you my warrior

To some this letter will be a dedication, a memorial but to you it is the instruction to fight, the song of war. Life is a battlefield it is not paradise, at times it will be unbearable and worse than a terrifying description of hell that we always hear. This is war, everyone wants to win to triumph and will take against anything on their way. 

This is war my friend, no-one is here to take care of you they are all here to fight their own battles. There will be blood shared, guts spilt and if you are not a victor you will be a victim cause there are no by-standers. Those you rescue will turn against you and stab you in the back, stand up and fight on, die proud. You will not know who your enemies are at face-value, they will disguise in a friendly skin for their survival, so listen to your heart and careful who you sleep quietly around at night when you gather your strength. There will be informants all around you so seal your strategies within the security of your mind lest you share with the enemy. This my friend is war and your sympathy will mean nothing, the offsprings of your enemies will grow to be warriors to fight against you one day so show no mercy to any of them. This here is war, go out there and fight, beg not for bread, protect your fields and surround your rivers.      

Choose your commanders well, search for loyalty in them if you cannot find any with one then find the most vicious dog and train it to lead your armies. This is life my friend your dreams are more important that anything else so stop at nothing to achieve them. Give your best in everything as if you life depended on it. The only choice is fight or flight... If you feel blows and they hurt, that is called pain, it means you are still breathing and alive so fight... Let us die in this field as warriors and not as beggars.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Unfinished Letter to My Father

Dear Daddy

Can I call you that, Daddy? Pardon me for asking Sir but I am not really sure what to call you nor who you are to me, I battle to relate to you, don't know what you like. Just the other day many years ago when I was approached by a very kind lady selling fathers day merchandise I tried to pick up a gift for you, so I thought initially that tools will be great but was unsure if you enjoy fixing anything I mean our relationship has been broken for years on end now, thought of a cd but I don't think you do listen to music cause my heart has been singing with a very sad voice a tune begging you for a hug but never received one, a melody to guide your feet tapping towards my direction but am still waiting. I took a very long time thinking of the gift and finally, finally yes I gave up.

Oh dear father, how much of me is you? how much of your failures will shape mine and fears will haunt me. How much I wish to be an apple that falls and rolls far away from the tree, the one picked and packed in the box to be sent to a place of great appreciation. The fear of being my fathers son paralyses me everyday cause I do not know how to be or even if its who I want to be.

How confusing are the feelings of love I feel for you in all this confusion, how I want to make you proud of me, how much I wanna measure up to you but yet again be able to respect a woman and never use my fist on her. How much I wanna feel love from you but realise that I have to give love to my own children from the place of emptiness. 

Oh dear father how much I wish I could finish a letter to you but like many attempts before have no words to complete one........

Sunday, 15 February 2015

My Unhappy Valentine

My Valentine

Wait do I even know what that means, the feelings it should bring or significance in our life? no I don't think I have an idea independent from the capitalist tale of the day. Well I thought to myself to write you a letter, as the legend of Valentine. 

I am writing a letter to you instead of sending flowers because it has the ability to share not only thoughts but words that my heart would like to communicate to yours. What does Valentine mean to us, what are we celebrating? I mean when last did we kiss passionately, held each other tight, fell asleep in each others arms, walk around with your hand in mine? When last did we take a drive into the wild to smell the freshness of the countryside air, a drive to our favourite roadhouse which we can't even remember the name of. When last could we complete each others sentence or even let the other finish a sentence without interjecting to point out who is wrong? When last could you sing a song by Jennifer Holiday on the original "Dreamgirls - And I'm telling you, I'm not leaving". 

Do you still see me as smarter, stronger, faster, handsome, etc. than any other man? Do you still wake up at night to stare at me and smile that your dreams have come true, or is the order of the day to face away in bed? Would you still rather live in poverty with me than in riches with someone else, have bad times with me that good times somewhere else? Are we still building memories or living off the once built during the prime of our love? Is valentine's day a day to celebrate for us or the day to mourn the death of our love? Are you happy with me, proud to still call me your man, do you still feel the passion when our bodies come one? do you tremble with excitement brought by my manhood or fear brought by my fist? 

Do you long for flowers and gifts from me or for love that is true and passionate, the care that is genuine and someone to protect your heart. Will you accept this false valentine card, this pretentious bunch of red roses, the poisonous italian kisses chocolates and be my unhappy valentine so that we can show the world we comply.     

Sunday, 1 February 2015

Letter to a conflicted soul

To you my soul, my being, the superior part of me and yet the one I understand less. Well the question I have been asking myself this morning has been, are you me, are you within me or are you divine. Where do you reside inside me? are you the pain in my heart, a thought on my mind, emptiness in my spirit or are you the wisdom that leads my feet to the right path that my mortal being always question? Are you me or am I you, I am the visible part of us. The one that can be seen, touched and feel the pain. I am the one that can taste and enjoy but yet without you there isn't life in me. I am the temporary structure of us while you are the form we will take in the forever, yet I assume the commanding role in the today.

Are we in sync, are you happy with who we are, the role I have decided for us? Is it where we are destined to be, have I realised our purpose? Have you healed from the pain that I have caused you only for my temporary pleasures of the world, Oh dear Soul have I fed you what fills your belly up while I focus on the taste of what fills my physical belly? Have I made your world bearable, kept you safe and away from the forces that consumes souls? Do my apologies mean anything to you this morning?

You expect nothing of me, you realise my weakness, my ignorance and arrogance but still you reside in me and keep my body going so I may change myself, change my ways. Oh dear Soul, I am in battle, I don't know who to listen to as my heart and mind are always conflicted while my spirit searches for joy in places I am not interested in going because they are not cool to my friends. I know you don't usually do it but may I ask of you to take over, to lead me, to show me who we really are cause I am not intelligent enough to deliver us. Can you settle the war inside and let your calm preside, I realise that I maybe asking for too much but if I don't then you and I will suffer my mistakes in the forever. Oh dear soul, my dear friend I realise the conflict I am inviting for you as I invite you to be in the physical whilst invisible. Oh dear Soul let me be you.....

Sunday, 25 January 2015

Dear Darkness - A letter to our fears


I have just realised that I am not afraid of you, that you do not run my life for me nor command the things I do. I am not afraid to be in your presence because I represent light, life and growth. The realisation of what you do to life and how you capture us in your deep dark prison has set me free from your chains and showed me who you really are.

Nothing good really comes from you, in your presence there is no growth, no plant grows where you rule only moulds, the green colour of life doesn't radiate where you reside because what grows in your presence adopts your colour and the smell of doubt, the smell of death. In your comfort are those who are ashamed to face the light, afraid to be seen. It is a place where those ashamed of their actions live, where those who cannot stand who they are hide, the ones whom have doubt on how great they are, shadows. Often the things committed in your rule bring no pride nor joy to others, you are a provider to those that take from others, to the one's that tastes the forbidden, the takers.  

I have realized that you rule by fear, by intimidation and lies that we will amount to nothing without you. You provide us with false security and sense of belonging and keep us in your prison by telling us that we are not good enough and if what we do comes out everyone will reject us. You present yourself to us as a place of refuge while you are actually a prison. I realised that I had to set myself free, to change and to win back who I was, I moved out. I found a place of my own, solace, peace, acceptance I am not clean but I'm not hiding in filth with rats and the sun that shines on me, my skin, the rain drops on my face, they give me hope that I will become the best I aspire to be. This is my life, my chance and I'm taking it