Day 21 of Poetry Challenge

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‘She’s the strangest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.’

Petals dry up faster in the cold

The sun makes you glow

For every time we laughed at darker melanin

Send the petition out, flyers every where

So we laid down the plans, a slate for all of us to just be ourselves

Forgive all

On the day, we all were there , skin and all, the way the creator made us

So she could be more comfortable in her skin

It is more beautiful by the day, aging well like wine

Naked and willing to accept, we waited

Then she arrived, poise and all

Just a product of our criticism

Could not be more further from our naked truth

Strange as they come.

 

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He who made me from breaking me

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The one I’ve loved with all I understand to the word

He is not the one cheering me on , proudly in the front row

He who does not read the only language I’ve mastered to communicate in

And yet here I am in love beyond a doubt

I used to get angry at the whispered cheering

Then I became my own cheerleader

I used to be saddened by the conversations we should have had but you never wanted to

I became my own best friend

And after all this time

He who’s beauty I celebrate and thank God for every morning

He has never called me beautiful

He plundered all the fake confidence I had

Just in time to have me learn to love myself

For now I know I am beautiful

I am intelligent

I am enough, I am worth it

You’d think with all he has taught me by default

I’d leave, but all I want is him

He who breaks my heart everyday by misunderstanding  my heart strings

Without him I wouldn’t know how to walk alone amongst company

Without him I never would have realised  my self worth

And just how far I can take myself

He has made me strong because he loved me in a language I am yet to understand

I promised I would not walk away this time around

My strong self and I find that’s the only reason we’re still here most of the time

He who did not love me the way I thought love was to be sung

Is the one who taught me how to dance alone.

Ambush

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I am a struggle child

Born behind invisible bars

Yet their putrid smell nauseates me

That which I can only see

Socialised to second guess my every second breathe

Worthy or not,deserving or not

I am that which was forced out

To run with the wind is to survive

To truly live is to go against the tide

So says the mind of mephitic surroundings

I am a struggle child

With the worst kind of enemy

False freedom, dangling freedom

Close enough for me to see

Feeding my hope and faith

Yet when I run for it, that which is mine

I find I outran my monkey chord

So I am choked back to submitting

The torture resumes, this time freedom a bit closer

I am a struggle child

Stuck in a cycle with blind counterparts

For I had to scrap my third eye open

To veraciously see the truth

In the depths of my struggle

I envy the blindfolds I once had

For they kept me ignorantly consuming their version of events

Safe and sound cuddled in ignorance

I am socialised to be educated

But I would rather be well acquainted with wisdom

Listen brother,start tearing off the blindfolds

The truth shall set you sincerely free.

Blowing Smoke

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20150703_121847I am angry, I am drowning

Not sure if I am drowning because I am angry

Or if I am angry because I have given up

Hence I am overwhelmed because I slumped my shoulders

Because when I get back home from work and school

All I can look forward to are a few messages

Of love from around the world

Which I ponder over in the midst of incense

But what frustrates me the most is that I have no one to blame but myself

Its the spirit of adventure that led me to fly my immature wings

When I relate my story I speak of free will, adventure

And taking charge of ones destiny

Behind the scenes it is just me and him blowing cigarette smoke

And dreaming of laying parallel to God’s wings

I do not talk about the friends who continue living their lives for others

And have become blind to my anguish

Or the ones that forever judge my imperfections

Kissing up so that I have a message or two to greet me after a long day

But truth be told I stopped painting the real picture

When I realised we  were not even on the same page

So I smoke and I drink and I ask pictures I have of you if you were ever around

Because I no longer see you in the passenger seat of our road trip

Misadventures of a free spirited girl

Whose only regret is making plans with those are not  free

Let’s go

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Windhoek Sunsets

Windhoek Sunsets

Born to be color blind

Forced to embrace a history we both dislike

Justified by forgiving but not forgetting

To keep us armed on the look out

Some get paranoid, go crazy whilst on patrol

We showed them once before

How far the teen spirit is willing to go

Just how loud we can get when you muffle our whispers

Never felt more alive

Than when we huddled around absorbing what was

Which on  countless measure helps us understand what is, the canvas for what will be

Overdosed on nostalgia on days people choose to remember

The African child in our own light

Happily holding hands with the rest of the world

We are allowed to indulge in our own uniqueness

Enough about protocol

All I want is to lay down with pride

And gaze upon the stars of diverse cultures

That paint our skies different shades

As a gentle breeze blows filled with beautiful voices

Singing in different languages I do not understand but feel

I close my eyes and let the rhythmic wind lullaby me to ease

Appreciating the open space that lets us play our freedom song

Accepting that we are all singing the same song just a different tune

Celebrating that we are painting the same picture with different colors

Allow yourself to lay down with me and proudly embrace this heritage.

Nothing but looking up to the heavens

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It got me doing some intense research, the need to have my words heard. Not only heard but for them to inspire if not a revolution or rebellion then to just be comfort to those in the dark. Book after book I was told poetry does not go very far, its just something personal, not a money making industry hence very little investment opportunities. So no money means I will not be heard,next question, “Where are you?………Africa…….honestly we cannot help.”

So for a few days I kicked every pebble  on every pathway I took, angry at the world because it did not have the time and money for what I had to say, its a sickening feeling you know, to feel as if no one’s listening. Feels like you are screaming in a bubble floating far off into space where no one is. You either get tired or your voice runs out, yes even your body and mind can give up on you, no words, as if to say they have caught on to what your heart and spirit have not.

And then I go back to my normal routine and try to forget childhood dreams of life before twenty, but it is still my waking thought and the reason I am blind to any other achievements, because the child in me will not be forgotten. So that is the endless cycle I find myself in, a battle of the war, and whatever happens may I always find my way to my words and courage to stand for them. And this is my message in a bottle, to the ocean of bottles. That the right person finds this, but then again they say I should make my own place in this world, I cannot be constrained to just throwing message bottles now can I? My mother works too damn hard for me not to be great, why does the path seem forever foggy though. Such that

WHAT THE???????!!!!!

WHAT THE???????!!!!!

when I do find time to dwell upon  this cursed world we all seem to badly want to belong to, I find myself looking towards the heavens for enlightenment, for what else is there to do when you run out of the yellow brick road to follow.

When the hounds become your neighbors

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20150510_142557Before they took out their machetes and started slashing away; I wish they would ask why. Why I packed everything to my name in a back-pack and trekked down south. Why I left everything I knew to venture into the big unknown, unpredictable world knowing that the certainty was uncertainty. I speak for that girl who was barely of age, who had to say goodbye to life as she knew it, putting faith in humanity and the rosary she held onto for dear life. It does not dawn on you until you are called off the pick-up truck, in the middle of nowhere, in the darkest hour of the night. Barely a swimmer herself her feet froze on contact with the limpopo, fear clouded whether or not the water was as cold as it felt. The strangers held hands, brothers in arms , brought together by the desperate need to escape. When the water reached her waistline, she knew there was no going back, if the infamous crocodiles did not get her, the tsotsis across the border might, worst case scenario, she would get arrested meaning safer transport to her seeking asylum. But at the back of her mind she felt like these were just the last kicks of a dying horse.

If they had only thought for a moment before they broke down her door, invading not only her personal space but destroying everything she had honestly earned through hard work and diligence. She escaped with just only the clothes on her back and memories of the sweet taste of what hope was as adrenaline had her rationally run and  not fight the armed men. When she did find safety she looked through the window to witness flames burn everything she owned, everything she was. Her asylum papers, groceries she had meant to send back home the next day . Her clothes, bank cards, furniture , her identity. The flames just got higher and higher and mercilessly devoured the hope and fruits of hard work she had painfully gathered along the years. Pain incapacitated her body, she did not cry, she smiled instead. She laughed hysterically, who would have known that it was not crocodiles in the Limpopo or the police she should have feared. It was the people; her fellow  Africans, the people who hired her, the ones who processed her to be a legal refuge, her neighbors, her church-mates. Her knees grew weak with laughter, she huddled herself into a little ball on the cement floor, giggling. She could not help but remember how she was homeless the first few months after she crossed over. She moved from shelter to shelter until her first paycheck came into effect. She remembered how happy she was the day they granted her asylum, that was the key to the life she had always wanted, to be able to dream and knew that if she worked hard enough, she could achieve anything. That was her lifeline and also the only thing the situation back home cold not engulf; HOPE. Now it was just smoke and ashes. Honesty and hard work proved to be inadequate to have the machete-men show her mercy.

Not a single tear rolled down her cheek, she laughed herself to sleep that fateful night. She thought,”I could have been killed or raped”, but that offered little consolation. She lay there feeling dead inside, all she wanted was to be able to dream,to have hope, especially in mankind. The very thing that delivered her from hopelessness was what destroyed her.

From the ashes I can only rise

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img1424704979678I would like to thank everyone who made me feel ugly

You made me feel invisible and that it was never okay to be who I am

I have lived my life like no one’s watching

And that has allowed me to dance,sing, shout and laugh like there’s nobody watching

Special shout out to people who have victimized me for being a tomboy

You made me second guess who I was until I was sure

In my every bone that the voice I listened to was really my heart

And to the special people who went to the trouble of making fun of my small features

Thank you for showing me just how cruel the world is

Almost nothing gets me off guard now that I know what people can say to a young girl

Words are powerless to express my gratitude

To the people who bluntly told me I would not make it past high school

It made me study twice as hard every time I failed

Because I had to prove you wrong

And for that, I appreciate making it to University even more

Thanks a ton to everyone I cared for who gradually forgot about my existence

No pain measures against a love one who no longer holds a torch quite like the fire

that still burns for them inside you

It got me paranoid about what was wrong with me

It eventually became a cycle till I realised such is life

It has made me love harder because like you, it could disappear anytime

All my love and thanks to the people who have said no to my words

It is only through rejection that my words have found depth

To the ironies of life, it was so awesome of you

To turn up every time I thought my life could not get worse

I have suffered many sleepless nights only for the truth to dawn on me

That I will never have it all figured out

So why not shut it all out and throw my hands to the sky

Words honestly can’t describe how thankful I am

To everyone who belittled me

You drove me to the edge, where I felt even smaller

It gave me first hand experience of what it feeels like to have nothing to live for

It gave me the courage to start a blog where I could voice out to as many people at the edge as possible

So they can look around and find they are never alone

And to the few I have ever let in and still broke my heart regardless

Please accept my vehement protestations of gratitude

After a great deal of self loathing and despair that again kept me up at night

That often causes me to withdraw, I have found myself closer to God

How can I show how grateful I am?

To the random strangers that have smiled at me, or the people in my life who have made me apart of their lives

You have made my existence a whole less awkward

And you have renewed my faith in the humankind

Without you there is no faith, hope and charity

To fuel the free-spirit I am today .

Ghosts from beyond

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20150131_122204I thought if I went without a fight, they might have mercy on me

A silent tear drop is all I succumbed to

When I grow up I want a six foot wall around my house

Six foot high, six foot deep

With an enormous gate and a vicious dog

That’s the image I pin on my head rest

The dream I keep alive as they hurl me away

The first and last picture I see each day

Not some white picket fence

That’s someone else’s dream

Other people’s blood spilled just for that dream

I am not about to disrespect my forefather’s struggle

For they sacrificed more than they had to

For my freedom of choice not to flee

And be a parasite latching onto someone else’s dream

That is why I keep my dream alive

Working towards my six foot wall and dagga  house

Doesn’t mean I have to plunge my roots where I feed

I admit I might seem to duck the tide

But I am sticking to my original plan

I think because I went without a fight

They tied the chains twice as hard on me

God knows I try so hard not to disappoint you:

The spirits in the wind, fallen blood of my blood

You just do not understand

They have us by the hook, through their music and television

I know your blood boils as you witness us get so lost in the crowd

Yes I hear your echos, shadows I feel your anguish and fear your wrath

But my voice alone is not doing your purpose justice

I wish they could you call them back to the motherland

To rather die an honest people than to become of which we are not entitled to

I have tried before and failed oh spirit of my fathers

Now I have been blessed again

But I find myself falling for the mistakes I should learn from

I am afraid I will fail you again

After all you have done for me, an extraordinary love you had

Wipe my tears and grant me strength

As i write on skew words

Giving dimension to words you whisper to me at night

What if I become my words

Will you forgive my past sins

Yes I hear you loud and clear

I will keep up the fight fulfill my dream

Build my six foot wall around my house

And breed that dog to keep them out

Hopefully that will keep their clutch at bay

But if, or rather, when modernity comes for me or blood of my blood

We promise to fight with all we have.

 

Y313

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DSCF0306I am living in my head

As the fine line between two worlds thins out

Find myself laughing in desert sands

When it is the ocean breeze I smell

Its my blankets that keep me warm

But your arms that keep me close

But you always in my head

Locked in amber by the distance

And every time we converse,

We engage with so much passion we converge

We shrivel only to become withering souls

Surviving by taking in shallow breathes of the hope we might resurrect like the phoenix

And even as we lay as ash

I will not let us be just another sad tale

Because you always in my head

The good and bad voices all mimic yours

They pushing and pulling me from the inside out

No alarms go off

As your presence always catches me off guard

Teasing me by coming and going

You some where in my head

I might not see you here and there

But far and low I surely will go

Just to be with you

Probably why I am living in my head.