The A to Z of Choosing that Special One


Actions speak louder than words, some say
Belonging to that period of time, we call day
Considering their impact on others, we may
Develop that strategy, and keep negativity away

Endlessly searching for that special one
Frankly speaking, will that time ever come?
Going to convince yourself you've won
How to deal with failure, calling yourself dumb

Investigating a way for you to have fun
Jack of all trades, yet master of none
Keeping the truth from under the sun
Laughing at you, you turning numb

Managing those feelings of despair
No one knows of those cries you fear
Over and over you say that you care
Predictable enough, when you pull out your hair

Quickly running to gain that control
Relying on your friend, in whom you've trusted your soul
Standing there alone when all takes its toll
Then finding out, devastated, she's been that mole

Under that pillow, the one you once wished to share
Victory to those that you thought had a care
Willing no longer to ever bring near
Xenophobe is now that condition you bare

You've now learned one of many more lessons to come
Zealous in choosing that someone to call, "Special One"

The originality manufactured naturally,
strength gained without any body building,
hard work born with no need to learn it.
Rising and falling known from first sight.
Being a refugee has now become a norhm.
Watching the sun set on empty  stomaches like some soup opera.
Poverty unplanned has been
jotted in the caleneders.

Always ready to take to the heels like some marathon race fleeing from wars.
Carrying a spiritaul shield to protect their lives because not even  any asurance can cover their deaths.
So many cries nobody knows if they are of joy or sorrow,
but i know that most of them project a message of pain.

Learning to be a doctor with no degree only because their societies need to be saved.
Little boys carry heavy battle machinery and are forced into war without any military trianing.

Poor Africa you are projected as helpless,
but nothing is so rich as your soils and every other thing that crawls on you,
the preys and its preditors so firece and cunning clever than those  pets that trained at some fancy school.
Your landscapes so unique they all are amazing to glare at.
Nothing makes you Africa so beautiful
than the golden rays from the sun departing to its sleep.
Giving everyone that chance to grasp a smile.

Africa is rich not because of money, but beacause of the natural resources extracted from it.

you found her
lost and insecure
her pale skin shimmering
just laying there

just a moment to late
whyd you have to wait
to find her
the clock just stopped
the tears just dried

you dont know why
you cant keep your eyes off her
you dont know where to go from here
cause it was you and her
for always and after
but just a moment to late
why did you have to wait

everything she did was beautiful
every smile glowed
every laugh warmed your soul
everything about her was perfection

whyd you have to wait
you were a moment to late
you cant keep your eyes off of her

you cant move
scared to miss the lies
hoping this is a dream
hoping to break the ties

whyd you have to wait
you were here a moment to late
starring at her body
laying on the floor
full of sorrow
why did you not listen for the screams
how could you not hear the sobs

nothings forever
except when you look at her
you cant take your eyes off her
you know once you do
it will be the last time you see her.

Just then does the pain take over.
As you fall to your knees.

I drop the hints
I yell for help 
I scream your name 
but you don't see. 
I need you now
I need all of you 
you can't hear me cry. 
Why do you miss everything 
why can't you hear me 
why aren't you here
when I only need you the most?

Allen Ginsberg, a raving madman, a man beyond the borders of normal
      once said, “Poets are ******, but see with the eyes of angels.”
His ranting howls, mere paradoxical clamorings (LOUDER).
His bootless, penniless, homeless cries, slight nonsensical musings.
His power subdued, his passion put-out, his well of enumerations run
      dry…

Can you hear him?

(LOUDER!!!)

Are you even listening?

What do holy angel-headed hipsters like he see?

A myriad of star-crossed artists, poets, gurus, and monks?
A tired and beat batch of street corner hustlers, homeless and hungry?
A drunk in the back-room bar?
A stumbling, shadowy silhouette in the by-street (an enigma...)?
An old man, philosophizing to everyone and no one but himself?
A juke box stuck on repeat?
A young couple, making love with their feet under the table?
A trio of jazz musicians out back for a smoke?
A bar maid making minimum wage, or nothing?
A priest who's losing his conviction?
A down-n-out loner, dreamy, dazed, dashed,
      staring at the bottom of his empty beer glass
      (who will buy the next round)?
A nosey cop?
A rosey fop?
A belligerent racist?
A beat runaway?
A child begging? (there are so many...)
A fed-up fanatic? (too loud, too loud…)
A would-be protester-rioter-anarchist, giving up and going home?
A giggling girl, flirting, with her skirt hiked high?
A show-off with an inferiority complex?
A shy recluse, too afraid to walk through the door?
A power-hungry politician, his propaganda blasting through the static of
      a detuned radio advertisement, paid for by (who are these people?)?
A struggle, never-ending, ever-renewed, always there, always alive,
      but only seen through crazy, mad, angelic eyes.

So many of us sit, think and still
wonder,
But have we ever gave ourselves the chance to ask?
Well no!
We just rejoice and find oursleves
floating on cloud nine because
"it is just another public holiday"

So many of us have cherished this day,
as a day of drinking, parting
and being in the family way.
Which "Us" am i refering to?
Well it is the youth of South Africa,
That can only sing "Freedom is coming tomorrow" very well
without knowing the significance
of that freedom
and what it took for this freedom
to come

well let me take you back to the
hands of time.
In June 16, 1976
the mongoloid youth of South Africa
marched down the streets of Soweto for this freedom we have today.

BLOOD SHADE,
SCREAMS,
EXPLOIDING SOUNDS
and the cries of faces without races
filled the streets of Soweto.

Parents feared for the lives of their children,
but who knew that adolescents
could be so brave?

They stood together in unity,
the same unity we lack today.
Fought for what was right and that came with their African roots,
which we nolonger honour today,

they fought against the usage af
Afrikaans as the main language of communication at schools.
And look where it left us today.
We have the Right to choice
and the Freedom of association.

And not forgeting that,
they left us with the courage to say "WE ARE PROUDLY SOUTH AFRICANS"

My heart aches
For something I do not have
Or have grasped truly for quite some time
I see the happiness of others
And my head cries out for something like that too
Yet I can't give what my mind and heart desires
Seeing as nobody else can realise quite how lonely
And isolated is this teen.

If you spend nights behind steel bars gazing upon the moonlight
I’ll live though a loss of one’s true touch
Amongst deep cuts; they do scar thy heart and hand
Raise once more my dear old friend, let’s roam the night
Hence before our strange miss sight
No words could be spoken that would make them understand
For you will never be tamed by any other man
On the other side of the window
Sadden and scared I watched as my life walked away
I reached out afraid of losing you I had no grasp I couldn’t hold you    
What you always were
Is the key to my heart

There was a boy who I told no,
No meant yes,
And my cries did not matter.
I have crumbled,
           and stumbled,
               and the matter I once was has turned to dust,
                     dancing away on a cloud somewhere my soul would rather be.