Once upon a time

Once upon a time
There was black and white
Two distinct colours
Two distinct lines
Black this side
White the other side
Black was black, true to the core
White alike,

Then there was a movement
They called it the rainbow
New spectrum aglow
Black
Zulu, Xhosa
South African
Congolese

White
English
German
Lebanese

Did we move forward
Or slid to a new direction
Hating on each other
Black on black,
Not black enough
White on white
Not white enough

New Movement in progress?
Shades of grey
Generation x
Generation y
Generation we want it all
And don’t give a shit
Whose toes we step on,
Our souls are the price tag
Give me the moola
And I’ll show you what I got
And you can have it all
My soul is all you need.
And you can have it all

Once upon a time there was soul
Twas enough to make me whole
now its just a big hole
but there’s still hope
after the storm
there is a rainbow,
waiting patiently
maybe I’ll get to see it too.

Adorned

The gods adore her, adorned her with beauty
Man sees her, ceases the opportunity
Woman envies her, envisions her sways theirs
I love her, move the heaven and earth for her.

She was never made to be like all
Harsh to the world she seems
Sweet and tender she is inside
Not fazed by the compliments
Maintained that which is sacred to her

Drenching with sweat
The runs she longs for bitter sweet
Adrenalin pumping out of every inch of her
Fine curves sculpted into perfection
Men can only think perversion

The muse and inspiration
Lines can’t be defined
Is it a love for a sister
Envy the body and mind so sinister
Improper love and unwanted desire

Love it is, pure, untainted
No need to cross the lines
It is as it should be
This love can’t be lost
Even when not cherished
Its not phased by lack of voice
Conversations take place in silence
In the comfort of the heart
No need to be heard
Where it matters, it is known
And if it isn’t so
It’s still not lost.

To my son

pexels-photo-386009.jpegIf

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

MeMeMe

I have been labelled as vain, self-centred, in love with myself etc.

Maybe I am, don’t blame me, I was born so, and my uncle knew it, before I could even speak, that I will be me, love me, talk about me, embrace me, against all odds. and he named me Nomna, No-Mna, Me, myself and I, in direct translation.

I have been thinking lately, why is it so bad to talk about, share, embrace me? Is it better if I talk about everyone else? Doesn’t that make me a gossipmonger? Umxabanisi? Gqadambekweni?

Every conversation begins with general info, world news, interests, and when that runs out, either you reveal a little bit (to a stranger) or a bit more (to a friend, your people) about yourself. When is it considered vain? If I don’t talk about myself when everything else runs out, I will ask about you, and you will label me as “uthanda indaba zabantu”. If I can’t ask you about you, I have to talk/ask about other people. In my dictionary that is labelled as gossiping.

So, make up your mind, which do you prefer, and inform me, before you label me vain, or a gossip monger. I can do both.

But I prefer to be me, worry about me, do me, love me and talk about me first. Should you choose, I would love to hear about you too!!!!