One day I will tell my kids the story of how the sun became a weapon burning us to ashes.
how ballute papers were suicide notes as we put a cross next the face we handed out souls to.
how every voter Got crucified in their own crosses.
how Lucifer is the holy one, Africa have became a twisted colony of evil.

But my kids will know
the stories of how we were condemned for complaining after spending centuries of oppression.
They will know how our enemies gave us a religion that said we must forgive our enemies, the irony.

**** it, I will show my kids the ocean, the only grave that took our forefathers during the slavery ships,
since pyramids were crafted in our souls called the triangular trade.

building news
Scientists discovered a heart lost in the bemuda triangle.
far offshore was a man drowning in love
for sure the ocean was Valencia.
a curvy woman, he rose with tides as his hands hope to hold her.

breaking news
Love is a conspiracy theory formed in the chest like the triangular trade, we are slaves to our hearts. slowly dying in the hands of the ignorant.

in other news

insecurities are like sharks' caudal fins , tipping in our visibilities everytime we hide it.

Love comes when it's least expected.

every Love poem I write feels like a suicide note, as I let a part of me find another home.
love articulates a passionate soul caged in my ribs
wrestling with every beat to break free.

Some say if U love a flower don't pick it coz it will die, so I planted mine next to yours.
for the roots to meet beneath the Earth's surface.

There is a barber shop built on the ashes of Babylon,
where men lose their ******* with shame that skip to the fourth kid,

There once was place where Samson's hairstyle was a treasure map.
A place where lost man travel
Where David found no stone
where Noah built an Ark but storm never came.

When we pass through that place even the stars we use for direction disappear.

I want to be a Black verse
Living off the society’s expectations,
I want to be a Free verse
Redefine this hypocrisy called democracy.

When I grow up,
I will be an exposed poem, with stanzas like a book of secrete.

A journey from Soweto to Jozi have turned a suicide note,
Written like a poem through every inch the Shosholoza cover.

We survive anyway,
With the apartheid legacy written on our bleeding skins,
The rainbow nations I have seen are the slashes painted on my father’s skin.

Every day we survive crime, ***, cancer and the brutality of our own negative thoughts.

Consumed in burning conversations
Three some torn from ashes of imaginary conversations
The devil withdrew, I'm  back to drowning in reality.
Wake.

A small sip won’t sink the ship, no need to walk on water Peter!
Even a dark spot on a light skin is called a beauty spot,
A bottle a day keeps an uncle awake.

My drunk uncle rewrite history in his confused stories
“Moses built the Ark, Jonah ate the fruit, and Eve raised dry bones”

Maker of miracles always have a penny for a bottle
Like he turned the ocean water into wine
He never gets sober.

I have spent decades digging my grandfathers’ bones,
I was told the graveyard is a the wealthiest place
Yet to discover my roots that were wiped by the storm of colonialism.

The rainbow was too ashamed to shine,
Stars too Black to be seem,
Words to heavy to be lifted.

Yet here I’m,
Going deep in the grave with my shallow words.
Hoping to find the bones still attached to the flesh with the soul kept within.

They have forced words down his throat
As they wrote in his head “RIP” John.
“Have you ever search for the death among the living?
Turning your GF a statue of your mom”
COZ I HAVE….

Imagine trying to geminate in a stony land
Aiming for the sky to be part of the constellations too
Finding a way between the stones worshiping gravity.

Imagine becoming a star, burning with curiosity,
While the gods who brought you to this world keep shooting you everywhere like a confused lightning.

Imagine your parents mapping their afterlife through your skin
Poor parents marking treasure maps to an innocent soul “KUGATA”

Imagine being taken to doors of prophets, Pastors and Sangomas,
Only to grow up hating neither.

Imagine a pregnant teenager
Who is yet to find her direction
She travelled to heaven through my eyes

I once watch stars creeping through my nostrils,
A plant turning god and breathing smoke through my mouth.

Today there are constellations colliding in my thoughts,
a battle of the gods, Sagittarius spending darts like bullets,
My life is named after a Roman god.

There are far too many gods in this world,
Some shine and some are shy of the light,
We talk shapeshifters, mind invaders, soul suckers.
There are far too many gods in this world,
yet non saved me from being burnt by the city street lights.

Love is a colourful City
Where Citizens are colour blind,
I have visited it too many times in one second,
Last time I went Seeking refuge the City was evacuated.

If you accidentally fall in love,
Keep falling to the gravity of her heart,
Pray that she catch you before you crash.
BUT
If love falls in your palms,
It will leave wounds and you will keep searching for it
With bleeding hands wishing to relive the past.
Memories.

I watch my desktop like my whole life time,
With folders, folding memories,
Files filled with future plans,
Too many codes on my wall paper,
I been trying to hide my self in face of my family.

Clicking the recycle bin has been a religion,
I worship pictures of my ex.

There is a reason why they are in the bin,
Which happen to be a recycling one.

Its like digging a grave to give CPR to bones, call me Ezekiel.

The great poem ever told should be the great poem ever sold,
We trade Memories and experiences with our souls,
Sending words to win emotions.
I have learnt to purchase purpose with my poems.

Have you ever write an open letter to an illiterate god?
To an empty sky blue which keeps blue-ticking you every time you type,

Let me tell you how it started…

It started with 5 loaves and two fish that mankind worship miracles and minor-things not the Christ.

We worship the net
We understand the reason why google starts with 'go..'
We give the 'd' while praying in our inboxes,
The only place we think under, these boxes.

I was blinded by the Jozi city lights,
Chasing false fortunes,
Got lost in people's comments and complements.
Last time I closed my eyes I was somewhere in South Africa.
Today am somewhere on google map,
Planting trigo-station every time I get high.

If you find me standing before the burning bridges,
Show me a path leading to the South Africa Mandela was talking about.

When sun reach deadline they came in line,
Like miners, astronomer carried him to a black hole,
Where he hear no grumbling of my hungry sister,
Milky Way wiped a waving man.

I have seen future fading to false fortune,
Man drowning from headline to deadline,
A poisoners lullaby turned funeral hymn.
Yet we painted raindrops in our faces as he slowly fade.

I wish I could stay by the sea again,
Watching it swallow your tears, rising tides,
It’s funny how you use to wipe them towards your tiny chicks
And pretending to be okay.

I miss how you use to bit an apple,
Leaving tinny teeth marks on the side,
How I watch you finding your way to it seed.

You taught me life,
Never miss wrestling on Sunday,
Always ready to play Marry go around any second.
I remember watching you trying to fit my hat
Pretending you are the granny next door,
Swinging of his chair every morning
Just to let the summer sun worm his heart.

I wish I was there.
Watching you growing,
Now am only left with memories
Memories of how life was going to be if I didn’t join the army.
In battle field, every time I pull a trigger my heart commit suicide.
I wish I could tell you, all the things I learned about life.

If you get this latter just know I learned that.
I daddy loves you.

Have you ever prayer with a letter to an illiterate god?
Pistol packed but can’t afford bullets,
Our fridges are starving, insufficient funds rises our insulin.

Ready to sail to our green pastures
But our ****** drowned in pirates’ palms,
Those who see man suffering hate their *****’s victory,
Our talent mummified because we can’t afford to live out our dreams.

We are rejects of the system, deviants to the society
Every year our resolutions are the same
Yet we been writing them for decades
Born with no silver-spoon but promised street of gold

So I turned to the God:
“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

I thought I was fine alone,
Until I walk sideway to your shadow,
Your curves perfectly painted on the pavement every time the sunshine on you.
Classic coat with sun glasses I caught a snow in the Sahara. I watch your hips magnating every man’s eye ball.
I watched your shadow until sunset then you were no more.
And again am not alone.

Sun and moon are in love,
Conflicts called eclipse,
They been dancing in the sound of gravity
right after God said "let there be romance"

Ocean and sky have  been making love for centuries,
Even when cumulonimbus form in their face they wait soon it fades.

Love remain innate in nature,
But we still search for emotions
Between pages of love novels.
We still find our fantasy painted on TV screens.

I want to love like tides,
My moods rise and fall but
fish still find life in my existence.

We all know how to Love
but don't know who to Love.

sOOn

The world is coming to an end,
I have a Nuclear weapon about to burst inside my chest.

Satisfaction

Civil war began with whispering souls seeking setisfaction.
The floor is paved with thornes,
in streets filled with thugs
taking drugs seeking setisfaction in the sky world.
their dreams are getting high.
Like space race, we target from range.

I had an appointment with past,
so today I met him in flash back in the dark ages.
The mirror stood a decade away from me but I can still see what’s inside my iris.