On my knees, I kneel.
I beg for compassion.
To love is to forgive.
To forgive is to love.
To forgive is divine.
To error is human.
Don't deny the fulfillment of God's law.
love isn't optional but God's command.
And forgiveness is Godly.
Please forgive me, come back home.
Our home has turned into a house.
It's cold, please come back.
Come back and make it warm.
Please come back to restore this home.
Forgiveness is the final form of love.
Forgiving won't change the past.
But can change our future.
Please forgive me, take my hand, let's boldy face the future till death do us part.
After all, in the words of Bishop T. D. Jakes: "love is union of two great forgivers not lovers"
This just show the power of forgiveness.
It’s a good day the lord granted.
Everything seems so perfect.
Weather is sweet.
What could go wrong?
I felt you coming.
Like a hijacker through a rear view mirror.
How I wish for a false alarm.
Dear lord may this cup pass.
A moment to accept the inevitable arrived.
Oh my God! you seized me once again.
You came like a thief at midnight.
You hijacked my mind.
You exposed me to wrath of migraines.
Horrible 30 seconds in a 24hour day.
It's like a small stain on a white garment.
The cruelty of an epileptic seizure is inevitable.
This an expression of how a 30seconds encounter with with an epileptic seizure can ruined the whole 24hour day.
Those you haven’t victimized fear you.
Mighty and dreadful you seem.
Little do they know, you only seize flesh and control the mind.
You seize not the soul.
Hence be not proud.
You’ve dwelled in me for many years.
Imprisoned me to anti-epileptic drugs.
You’ve dispirited me.
You attack, seize, and control my mind.
Your attacks are but brief.
Epilepsy be not proud.
For I fear not what rescind only flesh.
I fear what abolish both soul and flesh.
Proportional to gravitational force I fell.
I’ve always find the forte to rise.
Epilepsy be not proud.
For against all odds, I’m still alive.
This poem to show that for as much as I've been epileptic for 32 years I'm still alive because Epilepsy has not managed to **** me.
In the beginning there was a reader, poet, pen and paper.
Like an artist towards a stage, a
Poet approached the paper for freedom of expression.
The poet had secrets he couldn’t trust anyone to keep.
The feelings and secrets were so ocean deep.
The poet saw bias and hypocritical verdicts through reader’s eyes.
The poet trusted the paper and pen instead of readers.
Readers know not the poet’s pain, misery, and happiness.
Only God knows the poet's expression via a pen on paper.
Readers see the pen’s ink on paper.
They don’t see tear’s marked on the poet’s face.
Neither do they see the smile on the poet’s face.
The pen and paper is just the poet’s podium for freedom of expression.
Neither pen nor paper however knows the depth of a poet’s feelings.
This is just to say there's a lot more to poet than what the readers see.
I've been ignored and sidelined.
Denied freedom of expression.
Due to poverty, I was laughed at.
I was hurt, broken, and fought against.
Like a bicycle, I kept my balance to keep moving.
Then I won.
I’M THE STONE THE BUILDER REFUSED who’s………..
Passion didn’t come without suffering.
I strived not to be noticed.
I strived for my absence to be felt.
My intention wasn’t waiting for the storm to pass.
The intention was to dance in the rain.
Kneeling before God gave him ability to stand before anyone.
I’M THE STONE THE BUILDER REFUSED whom against all odds:
Forge without questioning.
Loved without condition.
Cared for people without expectations.
Gave without any sparing.
Shared without pretending.
I'm the same stone that turned to be the corner stone.
It's a personal poem about how I was treated by my family when I grew up and today I'm successful.
Nobody knows how it feels.
How living in fear feels.
Not knowing my next seizure.
How, where and when?
Public or private zone?
I fear the cruelty of epilepsy.
The devil you know better's than an angel you don’t?
I bet to differ.
This inevitable monster cohabite since childhood.
Anxiety haunts me even in parenthood.
Nobody knows why and how it feels except God.
Just an expression of it feels waking up in the morning not knowing when my next epileptic seizure will come.
I’ve had myriad seizures in my life.
I’m however, still alive.
An obscure force constantly attacked me.
A force directly proportional to gravity.
God granted serenity to accept the certainty,
Epilepsy, you’re in my life.
You don’t own my life.
My cognitive function has been dented.
I’ve been labelled and painted.
Sometimes even laughed at.
Seized, fell and rose countlessly.
I soldiered on courageously.
Giving up has never been an option.
I never took my eyes off the goal posts.
Epilepsy tried to shift the goal posts.
Against all odds, I graduated.
Applause as I approach the podium.
They applaud for academic success.
I however applaud for overcoming epilepsy.
Hospital was my other home during studies.
Marks capped, academic record not true image of success.
During my university years, I used to constantly get admitted to hospital due to epilepsy and it reflected badly on my academic record due to supplementary exams.
Your morning smile is precious.
It gives me happiness.
Smiling is indeed contagious.
Your smile puts me on “daily autopilot”.
You make me believe I can fly like a dove.
Is this the power of love?
Your smile is a catalyst to beauty not makeup.
To accolade your smile I trade a boffola for laughter.
Just to relax your muscle tension.
Oh yes, laughter restores the body’s natural energy.
I see the light through your crystal white teeth every morning.
It chases all nightmares like sunrise chasing the darkness.
A morning without you by my side is void.
I’m addicted to your morning smile.
This another poem dedicated to my beautiful wife. I love her so much.
I'm a DJ, a Disk jockey.
My fingers are like a jockey stick.
I breathe and live House music.
The first descendant of Disco music.
I'm the descendant of Frankie Knuckles.
My tunes ease listener's glooms.
I'm a predator, music beats are my prey.
House music is the only language I understand.
I busk locally and internationally.
I'm a beast, not just any beast.
Beast that play 4/4 repetitive beats.
I play tunes that move with heart beats.
My tunes aren't restricted to race or religion.
Behind the deck, I'm thee "House beast"
Dedicated to my boy Thendo Davhana aka "House beast". One of the upcoming and potential DJ of the future.
For your love, I'll do anything.
Climb the highest mountain.
Just to prove that my love is divine.
Swim the deepest ocean.
Just to save you from sinking.
You're always in my mind.
I can't imagine a day without you.
A day without you feels like a week.
A week feels like a month.
A month feels like a year.
We're like conjoined twins with one heart.
I can't define love.
But love without us is undefined.
"I love you" is an understatement.
What I feel is more than love.
Dedicated to my beautiful wife Ndivhuho Makatu and a mother of my precious daughter. I can't imagine life without her by my side.
I've seen many girls who look so fine.
Still I'm searching even night and day.
I can't find a girl who look so lovely.
You're one of a kind.
A lady like you shouldn't be seen on the street.
You set the standard for all prestige.
Your beauty plentiful just like plenty sand on the beach.
Your beauty is divine.
Fortunately I'm not diabetic because you're so sweet.
I would like to express my feelings.
Express myself so the secret reveal.
Full dedication I'm taking for real.
You and I was meant to be like a pedal and a wheel.
You're the treasure everyman wanna steal.
Excellent qualities with cross over appeal.
Can I take you on several dates.
Take you on a trip through West Indies.
Maybe we can spend some time overseas.
A happy marriage is all that I foresee.
Dedicated to my wife, inspired by Damian Marley song.
Every morning is a chance at a new day.
It’s never a bad life but a bad day.
Appreciate every seizure-free day. great feeling of rising post every fall.
Life's perkier focusing on what truly matters.
Each day may not be seizure-free,
There’s but, something good everyday.
I don’t live once.
Instead I die once.
I live every day.
I’ve been broken.
I’ve been hurt.
I’m however still alive.
As usual I share my experience living with epilepsy. This poem is about focusing on the positive because I'VE learnt a lot from living with this chronic condition.
I woke up confused.
I asked: what happened?
I’m broken and bruised.
Silently and violently, I was attacked.
I’m still curious to know what really happened.
The attack tears through my mind.
I’m separated from the world.
My mind was stolen.
As usual, I’m exposed to horrible migraines.
Oh! My God, it’s another seizure.
It’s one of many since childhood.
Oh! you inevitable silent attacker.
We’ve walked together since childhood.
You’ve got the nerve to even attack me at home.
I still can’t get used to our long-term one sided relationship.
Every epileptic seizure still hurt like the first time.
I am trying to express what I go through after every epileptic attack.
When we met, love Obnubilated me.
I became bananas about you.
I wanted to be luculent.
Just to be Pauciliquent.
I however felt like a blatherskite.
You probably thought I was a glaikit.
Did I sound like a meacock instead?
If so, it’s due to kakorrhaphiophobia.
I might have operose my feelings.
Did it seem like I wanna mamaguy you?
You behaved like a frondeur.
Your callipygian body looked extramundane.
Your hair looked ulitichous.
Did you feel like I lusted your Callipygian shape?
I foresaw a love that won’t flatline.
If it does, it will be eucatastrophe.
Now we’re together, I’m disenthrall from Misogamy.
You’re a deipnosophist and a mixologist.
To keep you happy, I share a boffola.
To me, love felt like a Humdudgeon.
Using rare and probably used words to express how I felt when I met my wife for the 1st.
Impatient, once we were.
Patience suited the only option we had.
To wait for God’s precious gift.
Patiently we wait for her birth date.
We patiently waited to know her gender.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes turned to hours.
Hours turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months.
For nine months we waited.
29th January 2012, we got our treasure.
The waiting is but not over.
Now we wait to see her growth.
We patiently wait to see her teen years.
What kind of parent will she be?
Will God’s grace and patience lead us to her grandparenthood?
This poem is dedicated to my six year old daughter.
I fall faster than gravitational acceleration.
Body jerks, vibrate like an earthquake.
Body and mind go separate ways.
Physical overcomes mental strength.
Muscles gain strength.
I can kick like an Ostrich.
Dare not to touch me.
Only I can reunite my body and mind.
The reunion results in confusion.
I get electrically shocked by migraines.
The joy of the reunion is short-lived.
I ask myself all the “Whys” in the world.
Only God knows why.
Poems about what I go through in the midst of an epileptic seizure.
Mistakes lead to failure, then success.
Failure isn't fatal.
Success isn't final.
Road to success always in construction.
I'm fruitful by laying a firm base.
A base from bricks mistakes threw at me.
I live going forward.
I only understand life backwards.
Looking back, I smile at past mistakes.
I learned from failure not success.
I live without regrets.
Behind success, failure is a secret.
I never quit when I failed.
I failed until I succeed.
I learned a lot from mistakes.
Lessons come disguised as mistakes.
The only mistake is not learning from mistakes.
Oh, you seed of mankind.
You who reside in the same Coloured white *****.
You carry the ***-determining chromosome.
Before union with female egg, human colour was same.
After fertilization, emerged different coloured humans.
Oh melanin, you who determine our skin colour.
You went as far as differentiating our hair colour.
What have you done?
Are you to blame for racial discrimination?
Maybe blame theory of evolution.
Oh no I blame you mankind.
God gave men brains of a kind.
The kind, that knows wrong from right.
In the image of God, mankind was created.
Colour was not restricted.
I urge mankind across all racial groups.
A plead to all *** groups.
There’s more to what you see in the mirror.
It was microscopically a seed within white *****.
We might differ racially, men and women.
We came from same coloured seed.
by Desmond Makatu,
Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.
First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the crowd.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Being epileptic for, I thought I should express how I feel about the condition.
My silent plant.
Part of my family, you’ve always been.
Our home signifies earth; your *** is Eden.
We're union of Chlorophyll and melanin.
Chlorophyll gives you a colour.
Melanin determines my skin colour.
I however, don’t know your language.
Your leaves maybe speak sign language.
Their colour depicts seasonal change.
Their brightness shows being well watered.
You are yet to utter a word.
Sometimes people give bias verdicts.
I hence tell you some of my problems and secretes.
Hope I’m not taking advantage of your silence.
Golden is your silence.
It feels better than biasness and verdicts.
I wish you could tell me when you’re thirsty.
I wish you could tell me if you're timesly watered.
If you could talk, what would you tell me?
Oh how I wish I knew how you feel about me.
Maybe by Darwin’s theory you’ll evolve and answer me.
Inspired by the plant in my house. Sometimes I feel like I am crazy because I speak to the plant when I water it.
Who are you?
Why are you leaving?
Where are you going?
I uttered these words during a seizure.
Imagining you puts my mind under pressure.
I quest for your identity like a hunt for treasure.
Am I haunted by a demon disguised as a seizure?
Seizure or not, I certainly spoke to you.
Begging you not to leave as if I knew you.
Still I ask: who are you?
Seized and captured by epilepsy, I couldn’t overtake you.
Overtake to see your face.
I woke up, you vanished without a trace.
In your next visit be bold and show your face.
A mysterious character within my seizures.
The next visit is unpredictable.
Seizures are inevitable.
Epileptic seizures, an obscure disability.
Like Epilepsy: will this mysterious image remain obscure?
A seizure lured me to a pond of muddles.
like a friend I pled against your departure.
Now I'm awake hence I plead for your departure.
Still I ask: who are you?.
Inspired by an epileptic seizure I had and within that seizure I spoke to a person pleading against his/her departure but didn't figure out who it was or if it was spiritual.
— The End —