Archive for July 25, 2015

why him, they ask her

why, they ask her,
why him?

she always says the same

when we met

and spoke
and laughed

she felt i felt
all i needed to be me
was me

am i that weary traveler

parched and thirsty

in the
of tattered hearts

who finally
sees it
feels it
tastes it
breathes it

the mirage

or is it lust

hmm get back to you on that i must

i am unable

to give up on you

who have etched your soul

chiselled deep onto the walls of my vagabond heart

whose smile is carved

along the alleyways of time

so wherever i may be
it shall always
be that smile
of yours
that i

i refuse …

to bow
scraping for scraps in the dirt

i refuse

to kneel
cowering before the altar

i refuse

to lose
hope for a better tomorrow

i refuse

to stop believing
that love will gently prevail

where mirth peace respect may again walk tall

in the very places

where once roamed nothing but sorrow

Rains over Jozi

The parched African earth soaks up the liquid offering from the heavens,

birds sing,


a chorus of relieved catharsis flows through my barren heart,

the steady rain continues,

elevating just another day,

transforming a dry insipid moment,

into a cacophony of jubilant life,


life flowing,

streaming down the desolate avenues,

dripping like perennial teardrops,

down the cheeks of this crazy,

maddening city of gold,

moments of undistilled supreme mirth,

heralds the arrival of a new season,

a triumphant rebirth,


as the Gods of Africa,

and the spirits of the Ancestors,

smile down,

on us,

we of flesh,

and of blood,

and of muscle,

and of bone,

soaking hardened hearts,
dead as cold stone,

infusing new life,

amidst the fragrant scent of rain on dry soil,

while the bronze sun retreats,

seeking respite behind the dark, hopeful clouds of charcoal grey,

while the rains shower their blessings,

banishing the winter chills,

and graciously beckoning spring to stay.

The rains over Jo’Burg caress the leaves on the trees,

cleansing the accumulated baggage that only yesterday so listlessly hung,

over the dryness in my soul,

scorched by a merciless  winters’ sun,

Ah! But today,


there are songs to be sung!


I feel complete,

I am with the heavens,

no longer splintered,
into a thousand and three fragmented pieces,

at last I am whole,

at last,

I am one…

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