15 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Listen, if I’m willing to talk to you, will you listen like you always do?
It has been quite hard for me to acknowledge the fact that we’re through.
Saw a few of your pictures on Instagram and Facebook, I’m glad to see that you’ve finally found someone new.
I wish nothing but love and happiness for the both of you, I really do.
At the end of the day, I’m so glad that I got the chance to have met you.
There’s this girl who has made me realise that maybe I don’t have to die to get to heaven.
Her beautiful cocoa butter skin proves that her complexion is truly a blessing.
It doesn’t matter which book I’m reading; her love is the scripture that my heart believes in.
She is simply a poem with feet, her soul is well-versed in love so eventually I asked her to walk with me.
It has been quite hard for you to acknowledge the fact that we’re through.
You’ve commented on my pictures on Instagram and Facebook, you’re glad to see that I’ve finally found someone new.
I’d tell you more about her and maybe show you what she means to me, but that’s a poem for another day.
I hope the person that you’re currently with has made you believe in the essence of true love again.
Because you deserve something better than lonely nights saturated with pain.
I’m happy for the both us, glad that we’ve managed to find happiness again.
We can’t change what happened in the past, we were teenagers back then.

the dutch colony ascended on our shores
replacing traditional african education on culture
with teaching slaves how to pray

we saw the deterioration of black schools
and state-mandated segregated curricula
whites being taught better than blacks
who was only destined for subservient jobs

policies of apartheid birthed the bantu education
and later forced us to learn languages
which was not our native tongue
the youth could no longer be silenced
soweto uprising saw them dying for the cause

we have protested throughout the decades
silenced by the apartheid government
simply ignored

with Mandela’s release we saw liberation, freedom, democracy
and a single education system, we were finally equal
however the legacy of black inferior education left a deep scar
which has still not healed
our parents not able to give us the education they were denied

now students are holding the government accountable
who promised free education for a vote
the movement trending as #feesmustfall

anger expressed by burning premises, striking and rioting
i believe in the cause but who are you really hurting?
why destroy the very universities that you are fighting for?

10 | 31 Poems for August 2016

Love me like you promised me you would.
Love me like I still know you can and I still know you can.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a whole lot of love here.
So love, please don’t walk away or decide to disappear from me.
I’m banking on you to not withdraw from the love we have both invested in.
Because the truth is my heart says that you’re the one, my heart is really growing fond of you.
Love, I used to think that I was bad at this beautiful thing people call love.
But I realised that the problem wasn’t the intensity of my affection but rather the quality of people I chose.
Like a rose, from the concrete I rose and I want you to witness my bloom.
You’ve made me question if all the women I have been with before were really worthy of my love, time and effort.
Love me unconditionally, across beautiful South African cities, over the world’s skyscrapers and beyond the depths of time.
I admire how you have loved me this intensely despite how devastating your previous heartbreak was.
Don’t walk away from me because no amount of ***** or morphine will ease the pain.
Let’s escape from reality with our lips locked to a place far away from the stares of prying strangers.
Please don’t walk away or decide to disappear from me not after you promised that you would love me.
Love me wholeheartedly, across beautiful South African cities, over the world’s skyscrapers and beyond the depths of time.
Love me like I still know you can, love me like you promised me you would.

9 | 31 Poems for August 2016

She unapologetically loves each and every crevice of her canvas.
Each part regally resonates to the woman who birthed her.
Each part elegantly exudes the exuberance of its own beauty.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the heads of men which turn as she walks down the street.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
Through pain she found love and through love she found herself.
We meet in the pages of our story where the ink intimately holds us together.
These words I write become intertwined in the veins of our loving hearts.
In the rain of her presence, my words will always form a rainbow.
I can never get enough of her love; I’m always left yearning for more.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, we both know what we’re fighting for.
She has never spent a day letting the world turn her starry sky into a ceiling.
She wears her crown proudly and embraces the queen that she is.
The curves on her body are more than just her dress or jean size.
More than the whistles which dissipate the silence as she enters the room.
Her curves are her heritage – a beautiful sign of where home is.
The world is my canvas and I hope this African queen will always be my muse.

Darkness and light: the eternal battle,
One can not exist in the presence of the other.

The greatest contrast in the world:
Light and darkness; black and white
Always opponents to one another,
But maybe not quite.

For hundreds of years,
Men strove to the world's enlightenment,
Conquerors sailed the seas,
Armed with a sense of entitlement.

No community was spared,
Families were torn apart,
Heart from heart,
Did Her Majesty care?

Men always feared the unknown,
The things they didn't understand,
Any attempt to upset the colonial hierarchy,
Was met with swift reprimand.

Fast forward to a civilised world,
Where women are oppressed,
A man is judged on his race,
Persecuted because of the colour of his face.

No community was spared,
Families were torn apart,
Heart from heart,
Did the Afrikaners care?

Liberation before education,
The struggle was long,
Blood was shed,
Children lie on the streets of Soweto,
Fallen cold and dead.

For a while the storm was past,
The rainbow was shining in the sun,
A sign of hope for the future.
A nation was free at last.

But as power started to grow,
Men got greedy: Money ruled these men,
And the cracks began to show.

Fear controlled their lives:
They had millions at their command,
Any and all opposition were silenced,
By quick reprimand.

Our country bleeds for collaboration,
Black and white can work together,
We just need honest leadership,
We are the rainbow nation.

The cycle is starting anew,
Families are being torn apart,
Heart from heart,
What will Number One do?

We are the poets.
We create poetry out of silence.
We are so incredibly good with words.
People often wonder what our hands can do.
People find these fingers incredible.
They watch as these fingers transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
They watch as static thoughts transform into kinetic conversations.

As simple as they are, these words tend to sound like proverbs.
The void that you constantly try to avoid.
We will fill that void with light.
The type of light that constellations hunger for.
These hands transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
The aim is not always to write to impress.
But rather to write to express.
We constantly find light in the darkest of places.
Even constellations envy the light found in our eyes.
With a suitable paint brush, these words can create vivid images of paradise.

Our words create worlds.
Our words create worlds within worlds.
Our words capture moments and paint pictures.
So next time you hear one of us recite, bring a friend and a frame along.

We create poetry out of silence.
We are so incredibly good with words.
People often wonder what our hands can do.
People find these fingers incredible.
They watch as these fingers transform simple words into beautiful poetry.
They watch as static thoughts transform into kinetic conversations.
We are the poets, you should ask the world about us.