this way of life is more than tranquil,
from day one to five, we sharpen
our tools with our desires and an anvil

in our spare time, we chase the the high
until our third eyes tells the three of us
it is way too much for us to handle

me myself and i, if it grabs our attention,
we will approach it with a purpose, whether
it be a person, wording or a purchase

none of which was intended to be perfect,
but deserving, why would the sea chase the earth’s surface if it felt that it was not worth it

-t.m

my silhouetted soul amplifies your light
i know you will bring colour,
like spring promises
when autumn leaves fall, euphoria rises
like church organs emphasising the praises

sun brightened decorations
on my pilgrimage, i found shalom
the kind of serendipity
that will loosen my ribcage
unfurling my stomach
releasing my soul into the open

seeding a flower
the joys of the intervals
between the ocean’s crashing waves,
earth’s air, and your glowing wingspan.

behind the reeks of feeling
beyond magic in the sand
where she was rooted.

a metaphor to me.
a guardian angel for god’s
mysterious creations
the sight of your gentle smile
as beautiful as catching a butterfly
in the act of stretching it’s wings

hearing your name
i sank deep
with shoulders too weak to even float

-t.m & tsii

you talk as if you sleep on flower beds
you told me a pointless conversation
is just a waste of breath
i'd rather hear your soft voice - instead
of being in this room with women who
hate each other's guts and look like death,
they talk about their friends which they hate and
down this moonshine until
they can't feel their heads

you look like you pluck petals and leaves
and that's the best part - your grace -
your heart is on your sleeve
and your soul is on your face
sitting next to you - why would i leave
as i know that there is no better place

-t.m

everything is everything, and
everything is nothing at all.
everybody’s obsessed until
everyone’s obsession finally
falls. blood splattered on the
earth’s surface, not everyone’s
mother will receive that painful
call. a cold body and an empty
stomach, not everyone’s mother
will be weeping whilst they lean
on their kitchen wall. to live as
a burden, and to die just as any
other human, not everybody’s
mother will miss their baby boy.

-t.m

slicing the surface of your sun kissed
face, i used to nurture each grain and
crevice that decorated your profile,
now i have created the insecurities
that dig through your hard skull and
crumble your layered state of mind,
only for me to sell your pure love
to the fairer man. at the time your
prostituting was said to bring me
wealth and status, but i now sit here
in shame as you have been *****
beyond repair. although i deserve
not a gram of forgiveness, i hope
my patriarchy and greed does
not undermine my apology

-t.m

a withered husband,
failed by life
tells me the story
that keeps him
up at night-

thrown in jail
for showing his face
in a white neighbourhood
after light

while he was being
waterboarded for
his tardiness, his
wife was being
sodemised by
men in uniforms,
trashing their shack
and leaving her with a
child with blue eyes

-he was left with
ptsd and an infant
that was birthed
out of a crime

he now awaits for an
apocalyptic flood
to take him out of his
grief knowing that the
love of his life went
through hell knowing
he could’ve protected
her from such demise

he now screams to
the sky asking his
cancer-freed rib and
his adopted son
who left him in this
prison - where is
his rope or knife.

-t.m

a sluggish but proud zulu man
stopped me in my trek to no-
where as my fingers searched
for a grip in the dehydrated sou-
thern sand. he held a leather-bound
book with the words “the holy bible”
struggling to stay embedded. befitting
resemblance of the seminar he gave me;
scuffling through testimonies and biblical
verses that lead into various explanations
which were suspected. i asked him if he
believed anything he had just said. he
confessed, he’d been questioning
everything he had memorised and read.
he guided me into a tangent about
his distain for the greedy and the
need for the restoration of his ancestors
land. i asked why black people get
massacred when we articulate our
desire for economic empowerment and grass.
he listed to me everything which he was
taught was wrong with the indigenous
people, which, supposedly, justified the past.
i stopped him in his own trek through self-hate,
anguish and pity and i said this to him,
“if you change the way black people think,
you change the way white people get money...”

-t.m