If love for your people
Becomes hatred for others
Aren’t you causing more enemies for yourself?

If love for our nation
Becomes the unifying song for us all
Aren’t you forging a more peaceful nation for us?

My envious eye breaks my heart
When Romeo takes Juliet’s hand
in his, studies her eyes like the stars,
Breathes her scent, rich and sweet Jasmine sings
Slowly settles his lips on her
Kisses that Juliet under the moon's watchful eye
While my envious eye breaks my heart
My eyes start to sweat from the hard labor of jealousy
Will ever love, will I ever feel joy, will I ever have what Romeo has?

Romeo’s envious eye breaks his heart
When I hold the delicate flower in my palm
Observing how live courses thought Mother Nature
Breathing in the fresh morning dew
Then gently place my ***** on the grass
Drinking in the warm eye of heaven
While Romeo’s envious eye breaks his heart
For he will never get to live again, to love again
At least for Romeo, he can coldly caress Juliet’s corpse.

Submissive
To the distraction of work
Those toxic emotions are there
Being silenced and overlooked
In the corner of heart
Those emotions are empowering herself
Soon she’ll be pushing for equality
Distraction and denial won’t overpower
Sending me into a downwards spiral.

Rather know the warden has the prison keys
Than knowing you have the prison keys
But you don’t want to set yourself free…

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE NOTE…

The truth of the number on it, is false
Run around miserable like a fun waltz
Dance in worship to the note, cattle, tooth
Die of tire before seeing the sad truth

The details on notes like the details that give
it power. Pushed with precision, live
men making money’s labyrinth return to
their hands, but they also wait in death’s queue.

If you need an easy buck, cut down trees, mine
coins, give it your own value. Undermine
the banks, make hatred useless, love priceless,
crush evil’s markets and invest in greatness.

That dumb note, the ruler slaving you away
The truth: it’s value is whatever you say.

A mournful wail
But brain makes her a whisper
Your heart, somewhere, feels a distance
As they khuluma
And you can’t
Yet they praat
And you caught a bietjie

long stretches of disappointing time
have turned you blind
to your dreams
X

well, in this time i have grown my vision
now i play life’s game
with better timing and precision
O

blind as you are
you’ll trip on your past convictions
flat on your face, full of regret
X

i pray
i don’t become blind
the older i get
O

resume to live by my unwise heart
manoeuvre to where
my unsure mind sees best
O

and this is how i see i’ll win,
where you have lost,
in the cruel game of life
O

(3 O’s in a row. I win!)

or
is my youth
my fall
X

and i’m unawarely
walking down the same blinding path
as you
X

will i see
that i’m blind
life has got me outplayed and i lost?
X

Avoiding problem
Destructive stress therapy
A cheap “remedy”

The gen-z,
Opposition to plastic,
But in their social media sea, see,
The bombastic
amount of plastic people,
Floating and chanting against climate change,
The movement is only steeple,
To acclaim more turtle followers. In exchange
they don’t nothing but say hoaxes,
Let the environment die with a pretty pose.

Juffrou, will the public prison set you Free
(Free like the Freedom we use to opPress)
mob trail wants you to explain
the depths of the universe
giving you 10 mississippis
we’re hearing, not Listening
Sentence you to a Label
BRANDED on you skin
Outcast you from society
into the Public Prison
for how long, Juffrou?
FOREVER or until our mind shifts
to the next person, another mob trail
(it’s a Game. Until the Game comes for me
More Deleterious)

Brought to my knees, tears down my cheeks.
That is me, defeated. My heart is what I seek.
Guider help me with my quest!
Maybe on the way we’ll see naïve hope, waited
and made aware of disappointment’s arrival, now operating
with pessimism and bias. Will we have to sympathise
Denial with its walking stick and sunglasses of great size?
Or make certain of no sudden movement as he observes with vigilance and readiness.
Guider what happened to the parks and the heaviness
of playing innocent souls ignorant, unscathed?
Are they now in office parks playing tug with whims and being paid.
And Guider, after all this, will my heart still be
loving, kind, fierce, joyful and warm?
Or will the father’s abandonment force my heart to reform…

Dear peers
Thanks for the flowers
Although dying men can’t
be pleasantly burdened by a besiege of bouquets
Dying men are focused
on every agonising breathe
Doesn’t matter how heavenly it is
But dear peers
Thanks for the flowers

Being birthed and brought up by the dumps, they
joined a higher force gang,

They don’t perform miracles
while they ride the highness or drunken stupors

(Stereotyped for our residents)

Yet they drown us in oceans of love
Listen, fully with two ears, tidal waves of pains
Lay their hands, for all, and not the “better of” among us

And as my mind reflects and resolutes

They didn’t change the dumps, the shrine of substances and where drunks worship the bottle,
The dumps is the dumps but it’s people,
even though few, move a inch closer to brighter.

‘Cause they chose differently, they delivered difference to the dumps.

Word of the Challenge
{Cerulean}

I tried smiling and pretending,
Amputating my memory of your sea lover,
Simply there’s a cerulean hue when I see you,
Again thoughts of her mermaid hands on you,
Gashes a pain from my heart in ICU,
And realisation of my flatline faith in you.

you fly
thinking
has
cupid given you wings
or it’s a valentines miracle
no,
love has
made you into
an angel
-so you think-
forgettin’ Wright Flyer II is higher, faster, funnier
u nosedivin’
thinking
the
man
has
taken
your wings
or it’s a post
valentines curse
no, his heart is bored
and you’re merely human

the stone had been left alone
to trek in search of a pool
that when a child offered the stone a floatie
the stone turned down the offer  
to drown
in the “stone’s special pool”
maybe the insecurity/pride/resentment
adding a extra ton or two

cover all doddles, hearts & scrabbles
teenage love evoking the inner child
innocent for now with a liberated soul

cover all doddles, hearts & scrabbles
teenage love evoking the childhood pain
swings couples where former child’s tears spilled

cover all doddles, hearts & scrabbles
teenage love has dramatic different faces
i don’t long to see ugly doddles and scrabbles
only the pretty hearts

i might paint the walls white
cover all old doddles, heart & scrabbles
draw our love story, me with my new partner
& pray, there only is pretty hearts.

For a week a man laid stiffen,
Was alive for his funeral in his coffin,
He admired the awing voices of the local choir,
For a second forgot why it was grimier,
He disapproved the chosen reverend,
For his summons would go on on end,
He couldn’t get over the irony so strong,
So many heartbeats for a summary a page long,
For a moment he wished he was dead,
For his mother retold childhood stories, turning his face red,
His love for his wife was renewed,
For on her face she had his buttocks tattooed,
He let out a silent one when his friend spoke,
Gas so deadly he could of choke,
He was irritated by his mother-in-law,
Lying that she loved him when he was her daughter’s biggest “flaw”,
His son had his heart overwhelmed,
Saying all the words in his pronunciation realm.

With his joy overflowing,
And the guilty for the tears growing,
The wise man bursted from his hiding place,
Embracing everyone, ignoring their confused face!

You might call the wise man mad,
While we are alive we insult, we make people sad,
But when they die, we utter praises, but they can no longer be glad.

…The boy hated his father…
Anger that boiled all blood cells,
Resentment that poisoned vermin-lush snakes.
The boy’s anger, resentment & hatred
Led him in his journey to manhood
…Until. He became the man his father was…

…Now, the man, still, hates his father…
Anger boils all blood cells,
Resentment that poisons vermin-lush snakes,
His anger, resentment & hatred,
…Blinds him while his lil’ man is hurting.

Life is a dice with four frightening faces,
Two faces with eyes seeing some joy and peace,
While you’re given another year,
Others are denied another taste of life,
Why? Well, this life no balance.

Others must sleep “comfortably” in a box or urn, River flowing from mother’s eyes. Shock fawning
sister’s eyes- soon she’ll also have a river,
The fat lady angelically burps every note with
a vein fighting for freedom from her fat neck
and furious eyebrows on her Ferrari red face,
Emotions fail to change that this life no balance.

And your drunken uncle slurps though his story…
The uncle looks like his competing with the dead,
Joyless, soulless, lifeless, died. Keep a watch on him,
We don’t want to be back here next week.
Yet who loves being in a life with no balance.

Priest, enjoys excited couples not cold corpses,
said “We are higher when we are on our knees.”
even more closer when we lay six-feet under,
That makes sense ‘cause this life no balance.

Time with your friends is only borrowed,
Tell the friend, sit down, stop pacing on end,
His racked with guilt when time is who to blame,
He’s wasting tons of time trying to solve infinities,
It’s simply answered, this life no balance.

On your birthday, smile until your cheeks swell!
‘Cause this life no balance. Never has. Never will!

What a lonely heart remembers
Is what it needs to forget
And a lonely heart forgets
How to remember to forget…

You are sand,
You can be mud or glass,
Doesn’t understand this man,
Look! You are sand! Yet you act like gas.

Embrace each grain in your hands of sand,
Not your many personas you want to be classed
with! “Is this me or the acts I have surpassed”,
you ask but the truth isn’t really a demand,
Even truth’s light breeze feels like a harass.

Your remind me of sand,
Shape these fake ideas about yourself. Alas,
we bonded to what nature has planned.
Be glad, you can be mud or glass.

i write
This note
because it will serve as evidence
of us until the earth has to pass
Therefore
death do our bodies part
But Not
This note
and not our Love.
i promise…

After high tide is low tide
After summer’s sun there’s winter’s snow
After being in love, especially with the fantasy,
There’s reality waiting for you to hate it.

When my mind gets lost in the far corner of the dark side of the moon,
the need grows for razors to expose my blood, destroying progress’ fragile balloon,
I glaze myself in the mirror and, as if the mirror magically change
The beast I thought to see, to a fair queen. Who wonders why we grew estranged.