Colour Play

Angelic bodies drape the skies

In varying stripes of turquoise shades.

bronze burns into a scourging orange.

A magpie in flight like a sardonic ghost

Turquoise and teal stretch their edges on life

across horizons to assimilate heaven’s secrets

or secure God’s ritzy paradise

from our predictable human minds.

Day and night, the shadow play

Umbra charade on lemon walls

a painstaking five minutes rushes by

and scarlet unites with fuchsia tinge.

the sky tells a mysterious tale in deeper hues

like all the darkness of the world has seeped out

from our mind’s crevices

and trapped above sea level.

I do not fear the horrors that the story unfolds,

it is beyond the border

far from my inquisitive reaching mind.

No, I simply close my eyes and feel the colours paint my soul,

dissecting it red and blue

The colours fade and loneliness looms like a crown above my eery head

The fall of Homo Sapiens

I keep dreaming of Astral beings

circling the earth’s core

suspended in their orbital hollow UFOs

steering their spaceship into Central America

abolishing all life form around its perimeter

I still suspect Aliens

emitting high-frequency light energies

into galaxies far from our limited views

bottling up the milky way in titanum jars

threatening humanity with each turn of time

I have never heard the wind like that before

or the mangroves speak stillness

From it’s deep bowels,

the earth has sprouted cancerous roots

Left me speechless like never before

The time is coming

the time has come

Time lapses outside my bedroom window

wrapping our psyche in a precise forcefield

like the decadent sycamore tree rooted outside

This is a message to the Earth

the seasons, the canyons and natural elements

how aimless our planet orbits the sun

as Humans poison it’s fertile soil

waiting for when it’s devoid of life form

So listen as the former powerful giant

whimpers in a clam shell

will the earth still be earth?

if the celestial bodies turned away

if the rain refused to seep from the heavens

If she took back everything she gave us

and handed it to the next generation of evolved species

They will excavate our bones

retracing the history of the fall of homo sapiens

The African Way

WARNING: This literary work contains sensitive words that some may find triggering. It is not meant for everybody.


Pearl drop on a plantain petal

mama rains down a storm

baby’s temperature is too high

red pustules and crusts marking her skin

something we’ve never seen before

Take her to holy grounds!

only fools trust in western medicine

we will cast and bind and spray and fast

till she is released from demonic schakles

a Doctor will do no good

They say the west is nearly bezirk

men flaunt in colourful robes

women flaunt like men

children flex like adults

anorexia is in vogue

O’ dear African Daughter

our daughters should eat when hungry

eat when satisfied

eat when exhausted from food

eat more and look good

Our daughter must be robust

exercise endangers the organs

Fitness repels the suitors

Your dress should drape on curves

A skinny bride is only half beautiful

And what is a woman without a husband?

She went to school and got a degree

we’re proud of her but where’s her man?

She read too much and forgot to cook

Her place is in kitchen playing suburban wifey

God forbid you live your life

god forbid you ever speak up

if you’re not under a curse

you will be cursed

watch the sun fade with blind eyes

Our children never live long enough

to bury their parents

I wonder whose sins they hawk around

whose shadows chases them underground

whose horrendous voices echos cohesively in their mind

Children carry on the sins of ancestors

It is only an open secret

children musn’t speak in the midst of elders

look in the mirror carefully and point your wrongs

be mindful of the silhouette of profanity

No one wants to be the first

fear tallies us together

hatred segments us into aliens

we stand alone facing a highfalutin coven

admiring the crumbling foundation of many ignoramus generations

People say

People said

the world is flat

has four edges and a strap

Gravity is only a myth

People say

life can exist without love

work all day and pay the bills

lest you sleep under the bridge

people say

it doesn’t matter how you lived your life

the day you die is more important

their insipid hearts glazed over

people say

work and till and earn your bills

go the streets and squander it all

all in a bid to fit right in

people say

there is only one way, ours or none

Only one god, ours or none

rebuke it and you’ll walk the plank

people say

wear mink coats and leather shoes

Your stone cold blinks must blind others

when you die, we’ll judge you still

people say

love yourself just as you are

and if you don’t, go under the knife

but when you die, we’ll judge you more

People say

all kinds of quatsch

pretend they care, yet judge all day

helping each other dig their grave.

People spend all night in the church

shake and tremble under the alter

roll around in dirt and dust

leave that place the same they went

People preach to you at end

You should live your life this way

then lock their doors and do the opposite

while you weep and wonder what’s wrong with you

People judge the dead for how they died

spit and dance on open grave

never mind the way they lived their life

then yell, I am christian.

I’ve learnt to smite what people say

their hearts overrun with wickedness and spite

smile in your face, judge behind your back

the only One to trust is Yahweh

Black enough

You ought to have to have seen her

Black body paint dripped from mane down to ankles

styled with a latex jacket and thigh high boots

A cigarette pressed lightly between her lips

You ought to have seen her

Her skin coalesces with the golden shy sun

She metamorphosed into a shade of deadly night

Belladonna like the devil’s berries

Honey coloured eye reflecting jewels

shea butter dripping from endless tamed lush kinks

Authentic she is, a goddess to behold

Belladonna like death cherries

Her footprints spirals in desert sand

Causing confusion wherever she trod

Posing for the cover of blacknvogue

Nubian temptress to the very end

And to think she had to scream her lungs

to break through a forcefield of deafening silence

they said she ought to behave whiter

Seemingly she was black enough

she was stunting on cloud bursting lilac skies

One could build a dam from her tear droplets

she lined a path from where she’d been

was forbidden to tango with ethereal solace

She was a drifting butterfly

perching on a fallen crimson leave

bejewelled by virgo’s decadent virtue

paradise cradled between her bosom.

You’ll remember her by her acerbic glances

the confidence that’s apparent through her melanin glow

they said she was black enough

to which she replied, “I didn’t chose it, I got lucky”

Intuition

Settled down at the glance and the thought of life

Felt currents like electric spark from my core

Isolation center around a waking surge

A vibration that propels into the throat chakra.

Keep the energy inconspicuous, never swaying to either poles

Your throat will either absorb the impulses

or it may continue it’s journey towards the chest

The hollow cave of intuition, where your heart lies

Oh, what a feeling of radiating emotions

knit and knock in your bones and joint space there after

Your heart weighs with a message from the universe

while your charitable heart banishes it to the bowels

Metabolism fastens or sluggers, then settles

between the groins, a belt tightens around hips and lower back

Feel the moon spread across the sky’s edges

dare to subtract the edge it has over you

For people who sense the slightest imbalances,

energies of the galaxy and of kindred

may sound abnormal, but is it really?

dubbed empaths or highly sensitive, for whatever reason

For us the full moon is more like a reckoning

Anything but smooth sailing it is

feelings too scary to explore, spur up

the dark side of my soul bullies me to submission

Yell as you wish, the influence grows worse

like a family reunion, where the black sheep is king

spritz me with venom and engulfs me whole

Until I am gurgling on it’s dark influence

Neptune knows, intuition cannot be bargained with

gifts dreams you can sip with your soul out a straw

or sardonic skies that taunts you at your weakest

But when my forehead kisses the ground,

every turmoil is hushed in universal harmony

A kaleidoscope of doubt

Toxic is the air invading the space between my mouth and nostrils

grown a fool waiting for love to sprout on winged petunia

I’ve clawed my heart to recover crystals that glistens darkness in my eyes

Fear has returned to torment a dusty cobwebbed casket.

A ripple of the river reflects the subtle complexity of existence

An existence separated by colours, seen and unseen. Gold and silver.

Separating further into hues that are too bright and overly sharp.

I fear I have triggered a cascade of events.

Pillars of white ricochet their luminosity, giving the illusion of separate divinity, or separate existence, dividing life and living, body and soul, is there a difference between living and breathing?

I may very well be buried under an oasis of doubt, coughing up sputum and goo, invading the intangible crevices like a broken mannequin underneath a glacier.

And I have survived, I mean I’m still living — and breathing.

The stars shine so bright that they rip a hole in a time-space continuum

and all I wish to do is swim in the penumbra of twilight.

Collect kisses from a thousand crows

As they nest on top the clay that holds the secret to my doubts.

I’ve sworn a vow to do better. I’ll be better. I’ll hold a matchstick close to a furnace and bask in it’s golden glow.

I will light a candle close to my heart and let my tears bounce off it’s flames. I can do it, just you watch.

I can make the sun and moon kiss in cosmic bureaucracy.

The emo in me is like a sand that won’t let you see the delicate ocean circling in my eyes.

You need not look at me, if you wish not to. But I bid you,

Remove the anchor that weighs so heavily on my ankle.

Find me in a kaleidoscope of doubt.

Follow the trail of lost serendipity in my voice.

It’ll get better

The stream refused to stand still.

it chipped at the roots of trees, and the toes of little adventurers.

I find myself choking from lack of air

Pure oxygen won’t do, without hydrogen hysteria is only a matter of time.

In hindsight I’ve forgotten the feel of the earth underneath my foot

like a hamster running in circles, chasing fool’s gold. Bewitched by the sun.

And I know I have to breath, grapple at the element with both nostrils

because it’ll make me better, It’ll feels less nauseating. I’ll survive a while longer.

They say it’ll get better,

but when?

The stream longs to stand still

to hear the working nocturnal beavers

still to the rustling withered leaves

But today, currents are high.

the anxiety will explode from the base of my ribcage

the strictures at the back of my throat won’t disappear

Now I’m at loss for words

my heart is overflowing but my glass is empty

somehow dark emotions pour out of my chakras

Currents are sky rocketing

and sky is painting all shades of crimson

But

I’d like to stand still

to hold back the worries, that’s gnawing and spitting at my ankle

I’d like to hold back the fusty dam from over-flooding.

They say it’ll get better, I’m tired of asking when.