Blue.
Pink kind of blue.
Somber mood. So beautiful.
This agony awakes a pure kind of pain in my chest.
I have a colour for my crisis.
A mermaid,
a little dragon sing for me.
Soothing yet utterly depressing.
Perfect pitch for my mood.
I am sitting on a flying island
I  sit there quietly
I feel the slow
cool wind
I watch the horizon.
Blue.
Pink kind of blue.
This somber mood is so beautiful, really.

Stuck
it *****.
I  succum.
End
so sordid.
I glance. I am gliding away.
The only soul in this dark alley.
I am suffering
it was a random
bow and arrow
attack.

The other day I realized something.
I noticed a change in me.
And it was not new.
It had been a few years that
this new part of me had grown into me.
Like I had grown a new *******
or an extra sense of smell.
A sense of smell
that maybe only I and few
strange under sea creatures had.
I was not afraid of trouble any more.
Yes trouble.
I was not afraid of it.
Maybe just like Malcom X
stopped being afraid of it.
The white man’s system is the boogey man.
Trust me
I know.
I am it’s cheap free stolen pillaged ***** oil.
Without me that machine ain’t moving.
I am not proud of that.
We fought them as hard as we could-
cow hide to a bullet
kicked them out of Haiti
with bare knuckles
faced them down esandlwana.
Gave them a taste of a true humanist-
Sankara.
And we are not done yet
cause their yoke is still on our necks.


I always used to stay clear of it.
Trouble I mean.
That fear or call it a way
defined who I was.
And how weak I was to become,
Until now of course
I know tango with
Trouble.
Once I thought of trouble
as I scare about the night and it’s ghastly possibilities.
Then
one day
realizing how my fear of trouble
had broken me.
How flight has tripped me.
I got hold of a thought
and held it close to me
as if it was always mine.
Close like sweaty black arms to rusted steel of an ak47.
I got hold of that thought.
That close.
That thought was
**** trouble
I love trouble
Like I love the night sky that would not be as beautiful if it were not for the night.
Only when darkness visits us
do we only see the beauty of our stars.
With darkness
you learn to love
the little faint light
that shines only at night.
I love my night time cause i have learnt to see its beauty amidst my ruins.

Its 3 am in
Albuquerque
just pass noon in
Soweto
I know no soul there
no soul knows I am here
light years apart
in more ways
than one
Its 3 am in
Albuquerque
just pass noon in
Soweto
A non matter of time.

The thick smell of *** you never saw fills the room
This the only room you could afford
The false sense of order defeated by the foul smell of ***
If this room could speak it would tell of tales not even your wildest dreams could conjure
I saw a big cockroach while sitting on the warm electrified loo
Cape Town
Always a tale of numerous realities slee

I got drunk tonight
I saw no light
Uncertainty still bright

how I miss her
you were mine
I was yours
I gave you away for no reason

as beautiful
as a precious stone passed through generations
too blind to see your brilliance
you were my true gift
Now I watch from afar
happy in somebody else's arm
How I wish I knew better
My true love
I now write poems
in regret
I wait for the miracle to be with you again.
Take care for now.

Pope John something was nasty the other day
Outed
if you touch the hem of his garment you will get slapped
ha ha
whose your papa
now
he only lives in your heart
has no physical address
built no church
and appointed no deputies
he is faceless
nameless
the idea of him - his existential existence
far more interesting to believe
than your Vatican costume drama

hear this
his apology from high in the sky
mighty and aloof
talking down
to the posse of the decidedly "******"

I set a "bad example"
BAD EXAMPLE
I guess its that simple
to thick in the fat - to walk the cold
walk
the plank

like all cults
only the group matters
not the millions of the decidedly blind
devotees
god is us
remember that

if you touch the helm of his garment you will be saved
saved from the pretenders of the throne
look in
child of god
he will allow you touch his garment
for his can't be stained
stained by your poor
*****
asian
african
Latin American
hands
only your money is pure
not your hands

hopefully papa will use our hard earned tithe from the third world to dry clean his garment.
And soul.

Outed.

I am weird man
I see it now
I am weird man
but I think well

well
I'd like to think

I am weird man
I love stupidly
losing great lovers along the way

I am weird man
I'm in communion with nothing
nobody
no place

I am weird man
I make nothing of my gifts

I am weird man
I let it all slip

I am weird man
for I look forward to
the End.

Good morning Soweto
You still at peace. I can feel
Birds still audible
no police siren
as yet
neighbours still speaking
hush hush
jet plane abuzz
up above
pass the morning moon
I wonder whose leaving or coming
I sit naked on my potch
pondering
wondering
what next to say about this peaceful morning.
The cat ambles away from its naked owner
and rests under the ***** tree
which like the naked owner
is enchanted about this Soweto mornin.
what a charming life this morning is.
I  hear a woman sweep her grass
we don't say lawn in this part of the world
Her strokes calm
unrushed
she is no cleaning
she is starting her day, putting her best foot forward.

If I was a god
I would have only created morning time.
Its the most fair time of the day
at most times hopeful
a dramatic difference from the madness
of afternoon
time
and the uncertainty of evening
time.

If only
I could bottle this Soweto morning
and have a sip of it this afternoon
and another drop this evening
if only.
If only
I could bottle this Soweto morning
I would send it to occupied Gaza
grief stricken Yemen
messy Libya
depressed Finland
If only.

I have to say bye
cause nothing I say
is as glorious as what I see and feel
this morning.
Have a good day whoever you are
wherever you are.
I am off to strut around my Soweto yard unbothered.
Ta-ta.

My words are of absolutely no consequence
In that instance
They failed at a sentence
reticent
senseless
with
certainty.

my heart is already at the door
my pants still in bed with her.
I must tell her
its only fair.

Her voice sounds like summer started early
She's got the whole of infinity on her hips
Her with that yellow background
can't help but to love her aura
I am so hooked to this girl's artistry
I can sleep at night
now that I met her

I sit with a secret
I sleep with it
walk with it
Its presence more pronounced
when I am alone with it
Me and it
silent about each other
our deadly omertà

I need to let someone in on it
in on the secret
maybe a doctor
or a healer of sorts
maybe
just
maybe
I might just survive it.

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

I am cunning cause of my wounds
Bound up into a tone of bitter flesh
Emitting an odour
Only I can smell - an adour keeping me alive in this mad game called life.

Who knows it
feels it

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

I lick no wounds
no more
I leave them
fester
A pungent reminder of this treacherous  path

Wounds have morphed into eyes
looking backwards - sideways - as I propel forward - gas leaking everywhere - radar broken

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night

saddle up dear reader
You too are wounded
Ride like devil's calvary is up on your bumper
Strike like the power of the high veld  thunder
And disappear like a drop in the orange river
They are after your kind
fight old rider
fatigue is not your salvation
your dagger your only way to your true emancipation
fear them no more - they have laid their eyes on you
send your doppelgänger - and get lost in the crowd - after you have struck at the heart of the beast - western civilization

western civilization
the true enemy of humanity
fight like sankara
fight like lumumba
Fight like Dingani
**** the queen

The threats against my sanity
keep me sharp
not awake at night
I have seen your agenda
Your sport of drinking black blood
will end.

I dreamt I was in a fight for my life
with a lion that turned out to be a dog
the owner spoke Zulu
but he turned out to be an english man
onlookers seemed unbothered by the attack
A second dog joined the assault
ripped my index finger off my hand
still no one intervened
I strangled the second dog to death
and spit on the first one
I was calm during the whole ordeal
as ****** as it was.
Moments later
I decided to wake up cause the fight was unpleasant
In Zulu spirituality  dogs in your dreams represent enemies
cause they came with our colonizers the Britz, the dutch,
french huguenots and the germans.
I woke up and washed in sea salt to cleanse my soul and my centuries old wounds.
I wonder if I should stayed asleep and fought on.
Tonight I would be ready for the **** dog
taking my Shaka Zulu spear to bed.

father where art thou?

someone said I am wise beyond my age
I said sadly
I was hurt too early
too many times
I would trade the wiseness
for a woundless soul
if it were at all possible.
thank you for the compliment
nonetheless

dancing to this song in my room
Hotel California.
Noticed a woman looking at me - cigarette in hand - from her balcony
No matter that
it was  raining.
She smiled sadly - walked away -  closed the blinds behind her.
It looked strange.
But the song was perfect in that moment.

soweto is about to sleep
it's 21H47
this side of the world has its back to the sun
its the moon that has our attention
nothing special about this night
beside the fact that  I am telling you about it
soweto is about to sleep
this side of the world has its back to the sun.
I hope your time
on your side of the world
is a pleasant
as this Soweto night.

Black.
Black.
How many times
black.
Black
only cause there's
white.
So
I am not
black.
I am zulu.
Keep your
black.
I am far from
blank.

poetry means nothing in real life
proclaimed a philistine
forgetting that the idea of nothing
is poetry itself.
poetry means nothing in real life
thats why we do it.

better this
way
than any other
way
ready for love
again

lovers lost
love renewed  

bitter
this way
than any other way.
battered I left

new love
red love
love for failed climbers.

She loves pork
**** man
I hope she don’t like **** as much
She is close to my address/
She might just be the one
**** she loves pork
My man
Like she loves my ****

Its nigrish I am speaking

He loves guccie
Sings praises for another man’s drink
He got paid he says
I say
He got had
I would love his babies though
They might cut the nouse
Loose

The ones with an invisible spear
Lets wish them
They might just arrive for us

Our love is no love
But mere rhetoric
I am your man
I am your woman
Bleeding
we wear white to our wedding day
and still spit vernom to our own confusion
We hate you white man
Me and my baby we hate you
You took all that was us and made it yours

She loves pork
He loves gucci
Becarful of these reckless lovers
They mean business
Debt incurred
Is debt to be paid by you
and  your future seedlings

She loves pork
I love guns
Guns for pigs

I was eager to ****

Enough data to enjoy vicariously with strangers

A thousand sites to choose from

Decadence at my door step

No act a misconduct

I was ready to ****

But I wrote a poem instead .

Standard night
A few drinks here
A few drinks there
Boys fancy the *****
Girls fancy the ****
Pantyless long legs
*******
Barely covered
Canal
Calamity
They give ut up with such ease
No time to tease

What is mogodu Monday
Without gonzzo like *** tales

Yo anja
He is on wheelchair
Mara  yena wababa

Eyi ngiziidlile leziyaziifebe

Three some
No more fantasy
Standard

Standard night
A few drinks here
A few drinks there
Boys fancy the *****
Girls fancy the ****
Canal
Calamity
They give ut up with such ease
No time to tease

I have been a hermit for a while
I see
Weeekends are for ******
In soweto

I heard a man from the inside say
ANC (African national congress)is like a forest
Forest full of dangerous snakes
all manner of beasts
ghastly beasts
no hunter should
dare
be near
it devours
all who face  
this seven headed snake
ANC is irreperable - I heard a man from the inside say
brain thirst
no
brain ******
Burn the forest
Burn it to ashes
Let in the new rains
New bush will grow
And maybe
Maybe then
The children of  this beautiful land
Will thrive for the first time
First time
After a very
Very
Long time.

When a bigot is caught redneck handed
He is in two minds
Fight or flight
fly away from his bigotry
No I am not racist
Fight for his bogotry
Did you watch birth of nation
What about darwin
**** darwin
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Show her no mercy
Black child
A thousand fold his hammer blow
Has backed you into a corner
Bite like a soweto pitbull
Teeth in
Grab and lock
Then pull
Side to side
As you step back
Letting go only when a chuck of the bigot is off his bone
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Ask him to show you an sos
We sent to his forefathers
Begging for their so called civilazation
Misseducation
Polutted minds
And twisted souls
We were fine without them
Content under african sky
True bohemians
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Go for the jagular
Angle for his ghastly soul
Destroy it
Cause no exorcism will succeed
His hate
Too deep
His crime will remain a crime
For time to come.
When a bigot is caught redneck handed
Remind her
She is the real beast.

we try tp do better
move away from each other better
heal ourselves
better
2020. turned out to be a nightmare so far.

Voted.
Waited.
Baited
voted again.
Battered
Bruized
Gutted.
Voted
Beaten
Once played.
Thrice out
Out played.
No more
voting
game
again
for me

darling
there is no way
you are not out there somewhere
in a city
a borough
a village
yet unknown to me.
alone.

I hope you wondering about the idea of
me somewhere
as I pen this note to you
my third eye chances upon you
at the edge of a frozen Geneva lake
next to a stream in Serengeti
around a New York park bench
aboard a trans Siberia train
at a sao paulo concert hall
on a humanitarian mission somewhere
settings worthy of our nearing meeting
I wonder if the thought of a stranger like
me
is as intoxicating as yours is to me
I stopped by to tell you
I left the door slightly ajar
for your eventual arrival
I wait for only you
and my expiry
I know I will see you before that
so
take care of you for me
I will do the same for you
my dear

The drunk concert pianist                       A beautiful Japanese chauffeur
can't quite direct his manhood.              can't believe her luck.
Even his famous fingers                          He is her late father's        
are of no help.                                            idol.                        
                                
                    
 He sends her flowers and says
sorry.                                                           She is fired the next day.