Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Falling like leaves off a rotten tree.
Husks of fruits and seeds; the ripen and those who will not complete their deeds.
Not bound by cold decrees, nor lifted by the warm breeze. Travelers who've reached the destination, faces lost to me.

We shared a way; hearts filling veins and soles stepping on lanes, dreams kept us sane, how things change; even in stagnation it's impossible for everything to stay the same. We were many now left with few, the numbers keep rising; those who now enjoy a view.

Never been one to believe in haven or hell,
I can feel that which separates us is but a vail. They, as the sea, are unbound free; as there are desert coasts one can know drought before they decide to float. Ships sailing on the horizon; they look like they would tip the moment the sky sings, I did not see the strike but the thunder now rings.

I look for understanding not pity because ,you see, if life is like a movie my future plot now has deleted scenes because one can not simply recast anything, especially, when the actors character was the key. If Ndingumntu I'm now missing more parts of me.
Ndingumntu: I am ( a person)
Ubuntu: umntu ngumntu ngabantu/I am because we are. It's a Nguni proverb which shows the sentiment of humanity and empathy innate to all people since we can now exist exclusively from those who are part of us. "I am what I am because of who we all are."

This is a lamentation for those I have lost recently to suicide, sickness and age
This is a spiritual for those who's chests are too tight to breath, whose blood is caked on the streets, pain too common to be seen, their skin too dark to dream, minds too beautiful to be freed loved ones left to float down the stream burnt or hung like tobacco leaves,
Smoking us is their addiction love Nig-ga-teen but want to disregard the afflictions, want to take in our chemistry but disregard the chronic inequalities.
this is a spiritual for this who bleed, feel or look like me... when,
when will we be free, the children of the soil I hear their  voices on the breeze songs of sadness, fear, rage, love but very little of peace. No more knees to take, We have no more cheeks to turn. No justice but we must know peace
until we know justice there will be No peace.
I'm tired of being tired
I want to be free
The strings spun a hard to see
But cut they shall be
I: a paradox
Find peace in delirium
Grateful for the skill
A sleep deprivation induced  euphoria
I hear the raindrops tumbling, in the clouds, on the breeze.
The moon's light peeks through the veiled night sky.
The first drops Kiss me so gently, but I know a storm is on her way
The crickets chirp mimic the sound of her shoes.
How it tiptoes into my space, the rustling leaves sway like a dress.
It pulls back almost as if aware of my observational gaze.
Then there's movement, the flow irresistible.
If her fringes invoke such beauty one could only imagine her eyes.

What kinda peace could a king find in the face of such unbridled grace.
Her pours allow the dark to share in the bright, bearing pits of light above most.
Her torrents clear the sediment of comfort and sweep the drought away,
Her showers clear the spirits of her subjects and boon us bounty,
Her voice crisp as lightning and clear as thunder shake the heavens when heard.

She can blitz the land or coast on the air
Raising up our tears only to let hers fall  
So I know Ororos love touches us all
Storms come and go but they are, were and will be here again.
It's not that I'm silent I'm, rather,
lost for words
Because this series of events are the worst I've heard,
In a minute.

this is more than simply "under the weather" because this is a divine tragedy.
A story ,of the battles, of vassals,  retainers and traitors;
heavens tribulations and its resounding failures.
Shocked; What took days, now hours.

The pettiest wrath is one born from wanting, fraudulent men exhibiting the worst of fruedian plans
and add a Hate:
born from nations divided, in ways outsiders decided: for the pay;
to make use of the weak till this day,

I can't comprehend this.
It's like the collective consciousness has taken cyanid the: matricide, fratricide, parricide and pedicide; is this an attempt of suicide?
Can't imagine terras eyes, Being terrorized by the homies side
blighting it's own kin, queens and this King's pride.

Is this blaze worth it's years to come when you burn away the blood that flows through us all and purge the graces we won,blessed with a unity, cursed by sub division, the delusions they built dictate how we liv'in.

I can't lie, at times like these I can only try an fly
forced to contemplate the irreconcilable and the priceless how can I evaluate the hate when I know it's love that elevates, so...
how can I;
I'm on the hated and hatful side, oh my what a time, what a time, to be alive.
There's a lot going on in South Africa and I've been shocked out of my wits to say the least. Can only hope for the best...
Next page