Once upon a time, I knew you.
Innocent, alone, quiet, but it all seemed like
A bad case of deja vu.
You knew me once, twice, thrice...
I knew,
You have the power to make our world
Or destroy it.
Despite this, I faithfully
Maintained the only promise I've ever made.

Once upon a time I felt the sun
Kiss my face and the wild breeze
Tame my hurting soul.

But now, I only feel the present.
All I know now is the emptiness
Of having everything torn away
From you.
This emptiness you brought me--
Let me repay it
As many times as you will allow me.

Or until
We return
To once upon a time.

She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.

On Angels Wings,

Dearly departed,
i miss the artist in you.
Soweto Springs.
Marooned in the mountains,
of stakes split socialism states.
so
high.
Liberalise my mind one final time,
before you
f l o a t into paradise.
Enchanted wonderland,
big game Zion elysium,
in the Kruger National park.
I miss you after dark;
Your kingdom come in those
happy hunting grounds.
How low could one go.
Perched upon Kilimanjaro,
table top feasts,
the
wilderbeasts,
perch upon the mountain range,
and
will eat you alive.
I miss you in the mourning.
I have no words.
None.
Johannesburg.
Where you gave birth to my world.

The
Apathy
You
Feel
Will
Make
Fools
Of
Us
All

27 forever,

don’t want to be sixteen please,
not now, or ever,

I’m done being twenty one,
it’s gone,
but gotten better.

but a twenty seven, i learnt a lesson in life,
a life before more eyes,
but wisest beyond my sights beliefs,

forever 27 but not my destiny,
there still life ln me to see beyond horizons,

i’ve seen behind them,
seen behind them in my mind and smile,
behind them,
seen behind them,
and beyond them with a similar style,

i’ve walk among them,
sung their praises in my darkest days,
i still sung them,
but it contradicts my life in ways,

and now we’ve come past,
in contrast to forgotten days,
we seen behind them,
despite of what our mothers
see behind them,
like i know she did back in her day,
behind them
as they are,

i won’t stand by them,
i’ll just stand away afar
and see behind them,
as i’m staring at the stars,

we;ll share the limelight,
they’ll see despite our wicked past,
we’ll shine like diamonds of the past,

illuminate behind them,
as we find a path to walk,
we’ll walk behind them, and we’ll
guide them in the dark,

if the world was ours,
if the world was ours,
(we worlds apart)

conversations correlation to constellations,
and thats an art,
and thats a start,
seen beyond them and behind them from afar,

if this world is ours,
we’ll stand beside them,
worlds apart,
won’t stay divide, because we decided to amass,

this world is ours,
we decided it ours,
escape the grasp,
of whats decided by the dark

Symmetrical Syria we sympathise in synchronisation of sirens and sadistic nature.
Those man made craters, aren't the force of Mother Nature,
They depict only hatred and a tyranny statement,
That says our generation will never see peace,
Just pieces of you,
Torn and decimated from targets based on generalisations,
As if a minority defines the whole population.
We seen it before in Iraq,
Now we're back for more with pre determined attacks.
When they asked first,
They said no at once,
Cue the worst still yet to come,
They asked again,
And they bent and broke,
From the rubble comes a white smoke,
But there's no new pope,
And there's no hope,
Just none.

The headlines say ISIS,
But the mind might miss the fine print,
The truth is inside it,
But we're not inclined to find it,
Propagander at its finest, from the highest to those that digress and make our minds up for us in the name of democracy's mindset.

If it's not in your name, then who can we blame?
Those men we empowered time and time again?

Watching news, with a second of thought,
Of course you believe it,
Who needs a secondary source?

No remorse,
of course.

Just corpses and a sea as blood as far as the headlines will breath.

used to speak in bodies
but now we speak in tongues
the frozen air bites my lungs

empties my soul from what it sees
lost black sorrows seep and bleed

gasping for reality while gasping for love
crushes my lungs, a pain undone

always sitting and waiting for a sign
always wanting things that arent mine

love was your favourite crime
especially if the heart broken was mine
(b.d.s,)