Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nhlekeleza Oct 2018
The prize has been set
The price to be met
There is an opening overhead
Matters need to be solved before we go to bed
There has been something unsettling
The soul and the mind are wildly wrestling

The aim has been to find the summit
In the scribes we read of heroes who can count it
There will be few who will account for pouncing
The pants of the upheaval direct who will wear the pants
The colour embossed in the mast of the mud bosses you unless you are a panther

In the corners of my soul the pictures form a montage
Confidence is winning tool for the seeker and his entourage
His poise and clear precision, the vivid vision all at large
I wonder in my wandering while watering the plant of my future decayed body
In the derision of the photography I have a decision to make to mark this monopoly

In the constructs of the ***** mental designs
There is a colour line that hints of a separation
Contrasting emotions in this ocean of corruption
No passion to ponder on as if looking at oneself on a pond
Just eruption and temporary satiation of a concocted false imagination
A fallacy which is hypocrisy to demonize delinquency driven by democratic debauchery
In offering one's presence to gift the box of society some fitting propriety
You lose your footing because of the escalating changes in the gravity of balanced sanity

This would riddle any walking and moving mind but will catch the eye of the seated paradigm
Dissecting each section of the situation at this cyclic station
Are we vibrating to the desired frequency or are we visiting waves that lead us to farewell before we've frequented our painted haven?
In the position of being seated, the noise quieted and the marking erased
You easily trace the place that you have to face before you can embrace the stool that pools you in an estuary
You rest at once and maybe there's your ferry or maybe just a rocking chair giving you perception from where you swing back and forth.
Nhlekeleza Sep 2018
Am I plastered?
Drunk or just hanging?
Taking a dunk or just sagging?
I am given to aphorisms
Morals that build us for a reason
Trying to keep us out of mental prisons
Words have me in a haze and I cannot erase these thoughts  that keep running in an entrancing maze.

Metamorphosis. There are matters that enforce this energy which is engorged within a metaphysical force. I use my fingers to pick up a pen so to expel a thought that lingers in my pineal gland.

Goodness. It is grace amazing that is in this place or just a god or the God who shows off his face. We are presented with a gift perennial that is wrapped with mystery. In mists the fists of fate take a swing and if we believe in the unseen we can trust grit and transcend beyond wit. Train our senses to be lit so they can send us beyond -ism's to the essence of goodness.

Locomotion. In my local state I give up my locale to some divine logic gate. I dial in to wire my mental coiling to follow a calling to inspire. Ever the wiser I should soar to the mystic spheres. But ground there is insulation and my calculation computes a technical movement in my skeletal. I am moving locating my next step, relaying locomotives which are concentric energy.

Soigné. A fine dame I dare meet on a fine day. So Ignorant of her beauty I parlay my chances with a few words of jest and curved zest to interact with her invitational tract. If I have a chance in fact I will make a pact to be with her throughout the days and forget about lustful tact. I resurge and her being is muse and to me it is a purge. I aim to converse with her for days and days so we can find confluence as we psychically converge. And I'll tell her that she is pulchritudinous and I am pale true to nought, waiting for my crafting.

Words or chords to find concordance. Some say say swords to slice and pierce and dictate worlds. I say they are mellifluous like a melody that sends a melancholy sadist out of his maladies. Magnanimously magnificent in moments of poetic artistry and meandering prose fixating methodically. From the mammary of the culinary belly we squeeze out these laid letters formed to mean but not to be mean to the means of our diction or magnify our addiction. Perhaps to quantify our intellect beyond the internet, we archive them in dictionaries and illustrate them in some encyclopaedia. Perhaps grunts and clicking of tongues is some medium... But words change the world where lords fail to write laws to keep us sane, and instead have swords forged to have any man slain.
Nhlekeleza Aug 2018
What my hands see when they touch your face
What my heart smells when you cook our love
What my ears taste when calling your name is my muse
What my feet hear when music walks within you
What my eyes feel when I hug you and you exhale

This is all that makes me believe in you and me

When my day is dark and the sunshine in your smile makes it alright
When I lose all sense and meaning and you loving me in a million ways is a mystery
When I play our jam and all else is smooth in a broken world
When money has reached zero and you still find wealth in being with me
When the clock ticks and I feel luck has missed me and you slow down time so I can find a leap

This is when I believe in you and me

How you inspire the birds to sing by lifting my spirit
How you pay attention to the things I forget to remember
How your beauty colours my greyscale understanding of heaven
How your soul pierces my shield of magnetic insecurity

This is how I believe in you and me

You are the spear and I am the torn tree
You are the Spring and  my love is what is locally warming
You are the torch in a dark night and I am trying to build you as a lantern to carry you longer
You are the pause in eternity and I am the pendulum hitting slow step and rewind

This who we are in belief.
Nhlekeleza Aug 2018
The breeze catches you once more
You know that this is a new moment
You feel it in the weather as its cold before the rain pours
It takes you away and you feel light sensing a drifting sentiment
You wonder if you were ever present in this future nostalgic state
You try to capture the memories of old but they miss you and you are late

You begin to realise that this is new and you have to take it all in
The trees speak a secret language and you figure this has been spoken before
If you can just concentrate and shut the noise and amplify the words you'll win
Just to hear what they say but this is a different tone and change is what you abhor
This sensation takes you on tour and assures that a new day is born

Now you gather yourself and calculate
How do the vagaries of nature calibrate?
You wonder what the birds must be singing about because they suddenly levitate
How could you miss it? The big lesson, maybe next time you will not hesitate
You will embrace each chance to dwell in the romance of each grain of sand in the hour glass

You soon accept this is the present that has been gifted and you owe it to yourself to bestow life with your utmost dedication
This age, this hour, this passing moment is yours and you release that with or without you life will go on
Your absence an abstract figure that reduces in significance as another has their ride on the swing of precious time
It will never be the same but memories will remain and the moments you will treasure as that is your conscious gain.
Nhlekeleza Jul 2018
Dear lover, I do not know in whose arms you sleep
I can only vouch for the feelings in me deep
I can find solace in the promises we aim to keep
Dear lover I long for you to fill where I am lonely
Take me to the rivers where divinity seekers feel holy
Fill me with emotions coloured in the tapestry of the wind when the songbird inspires a rhapsody

Dear lover, is it me or is there another?
Play me the muse of your love and let me **** from its udder
Let it quench the thirst that bursts when it hurts to be without you, especially in our unders
Dear lover, I am sincerely thinking about you
This feels like some sickening undiscovered dusty hue
You will be the canvas I paint on ****
a flower in bloom.
Dear love I love you more my paramour, I hope you adore this roar of emotion raw collected from secret drawers that store only ideas pure... Lover let us endure.
Nhlekeleza Jul 2018
I feel a surge in my arteries
Can some good art purge my heart and knees
There is a urge to hurt rather than please
A dirge sung rather than a joyous piece
Ashes and dust in faraway seas, give me courage to wake and seize
before moments that will get me out of the ******,
Are in darkness and have me negatively captive without release.
Nhlekeleza Jun 2018
In the west winds splashes a fountain down beneath
A furrow has been dug to send the waves of the waters to civilization
Oh civilisation, how we overlook the green leaves and large strong brown bark
And the sound of crickets that we miss as we play loudly the stereo in our cars
How we miss the warmth just before sunset and mislead ourselves into thinking that our bedrooms are fervor's comfort
We miss the softness of sand and chase the pair of shoes with the thickest sole
So many holes are drilled into our souls
Even showers aren't enough to open up our pores
And the television romance to convince us of an ease of sores

My goodness will we ever know
But wait til it rains, hails or snows
Then we know that it is this cult or that which defines our goals
Big dreams make shacks of our mansion homes
We wish upon a star to guide us close
Nearer to our ambitions so we walk tough and keep a mental bold
Moonshine at noon time perhaps luck will get us there before we're old
As long as as we will still glow as gold even if the furrows on our faces we cannot fold
There can be a chip in cast iron I am told
We like to believe we are titanium, an invincible mould
It keeps us away from dying, so we we aim for the tall tree and keep climbing
With ice hockey sticks we keep gliding
Hoping we have enough ballet lift so we don't break our toes as we try to brake and move forth slow

It is comforting to know that we will leave our illusions before we are mediocre
Before our memoirs and escapades become archaic
We will reminisce and hiss as we miss the kiss or heaven's lips as we glisten with magic in our eyes
Maybe then we'll listen to the vision of intuition that keeps us on our stride away from derision
We will at once know that we have lived and this life has been a universal whistle because it can end faster than a round exits a pistol.
Next page