The moon is my goddess,
her beams lights my path.
In this religion, enlightenment is not a process
but a forever state of mind to have.

The forest will be my church,
roots will be my holy text.
I want trees instead of gravestones
and the wind will listen as I confess.

I will taste the moonlight,
will become one with the goddess.
Since heaven isn't on earth,
and I must have access.

The fluttering curtains. The rough stone wall.
The rhythm of the leaves in concert with the wind chimes.
Clearer.

A fertile space, bombarded by life, love, tragedy.
Nourishing.

The thin film of perspiration responding to the warm tea.
The cup cooling to ambient.
Connected.

An ageing body shaped by rich diverse experience.
A backward glance to a faraway waning peak.
Acceptance.

Countless journeys guiding me here.
Tomorrows destinations biased by passion and purpose.
Mystery, uncertainty, yet infinite clarity bound together.
An unconscious knowing, omnipresent.
Contentment.

It has to have a little bounce to it
I gotta put another ounce to it
My rhythm and flow
Make you dig it and glow
Hope you dig in and grow
Like Diglet to Dugtrio
I’m still evolving me though
I am a dissolving ego
A problem-solving Neo
I have broke free from the Matrix
Still my mind plays wicked tricks
But now I see these traps and ticks
All these flaws I can soon fix
As I climb ever higher
Atop my funeral pyre
No fear that I’ll expire
So my soul sits ever lighter

Floating and flowing without ever knowing
Gloating and showing without ever going
Bloating and slowing our repetitive rowing
Coating and mowing instead of regrowing

We drift downstream as if in a dream
Sometimes we glint, sometimes we gleam
Other times we pay a toll
Yet we are never in control

We can struggle against the currents
Test the limits of our endurance
Or we can learn to selflessly flow
We can begin to gracefully let go

Names of my name.
by Malefo Molefe

The names of me is I, is you; yes, you prefer to call me ‘you’.
The name of I could be clever and the name of you as understanding.
You may call me confusing and in turn I shall name you angry.
Let me label her nice so that you responded in kind, saying she is kind.
She is beautiful, named beauty, she is beauty. She is perfect;
Named after her perfection. She is.

Call me pretentious saying that I belong to a race called “lies”.
Name me a lie. Identifying me as brutal, unkind and unloving.
Your mother named you but your family named you too.
Society called you white yet critically the government used digits.
You are just a number to the government and the insurance company.
Is naming an insult when you know that I ran short of calling you nothing?

The name of God is Jehovah, Elohim and the name of god is the Supreme Being.
The name of God is Allah and the name of GOD is the universe.
The name of GOD is ONE. They call GOD and used names like;
God or god, even father and the sun. They call GOD beauty, I said perfect.
I call GOD everything and name GOD nothing. I call GOD you.
I am these names, the words, the numbers and inscriptions. These are;
Names of my name.

It started from smoking blunts in the back,
I can be duplicated, though never replicated, rendering me never to be fading,
straight from addiction into enlightenment intoxication,
started as a *******,
than I rose
to interact with royalty in the gypsy landscape
& developed a fellowship through it,
Now longer drinking liquor wishing meaning to come easier, thank my Muse that I'm still living, now I got live life in the way I was meant to, a paradoxical-muse, spitting game of a higher one. Read me some my poetry, roll me a Persian rug, rather by developing than be another boy with my hands out spitting out fallacy.  Stacked like a fantasy, out to ball to make contact, be back by lunchtime, finaly happy, trying to put some wisdom in my mind and answer anything calling, feeling good like I wanted too.
now everyone normal wants to put their hands on me,
I bathed in poetics,
passion is in my nature,
romanticism is too easy,
took the ideas of dreamingful life, applied them for my own,
I’m either nodding my head for someone to enter
or I’m walking away,
sometimes an experience means nothing, beside another poem to write.
The pain is deep, life is brief.
I can either be of value or just another.
Musings over the world is dreamed of though not everyone alike.