If you pay close enough attention

If you pay close enough attention you will notice the frown in the way his lips curl at the edges into a smile, that looks like it took far more energy then a frown which naturally plays on his lips
If you pay close enough attention you will see that in the way his shoulders shrug as though not giving one fuck, it looks as though his carrying the world on his shoulders
If you pay close enough attention you will notice that behind an eloquent mix of words, lies a forbidden truth that his mouth could never utter, but only the hard pressed ink on a sheet will ever see
Only those pieces of truth will never see the light, as they are meant to ease the fight
That in simply put statements such as, "nothing gets me down, as I am of the belief if I survived the passing of my mother, I can survive anything", there lies a magnitude of hurt, if only you would pay close enough attention
You will see the burning light of promise, that is lit everyday by the endless responsibility and tasks
Only it would be nice to take a day off without the endless steering and worry of losing stability in ones life
The need to work hard, as opposed to the want
The fear of mediocrity as opposed to basking in talent
The constant reminder of believing in oneself even in the face of life kickin' you down
The fear of entitlement, coupled by the belief that "Life owes you nothing"
If you would pay close enough attention, you will see that as he walks that path to success, the world sees determination, hard work and perseverance, but really all I see is a lonely man, taking the road least traveled.

Well, if only you would pay close enough attention.

Playing With Fire

The brighter the flame, the more it burns down everything you hold dear. Only that pales in the eyes of what set you on fire. In the wake of the fire spreading and greedily eating at everything in its wake, claiming a multitude of parts of you and breaking down defenses. Everything screams run, but you are drawn to the flame. Unafraid, yet senselessly weak at the prospect of being engulfed. 

You tease the corners of its unknown boundaries, call to life its dark corners and illuminate its potential. Only, the fire blinds you into seeing far beyond the present. Threatening to turn everything you knew to be true into smoke, lingering and ready to be blown into the past. Ready to draw a new path in the sky, leading to a new eternity.

The smoke fills your lungs, an unfamiliar feeling, but he looks into your eyes and urges you to trust your heart and not your lungs, enough to know that it will be okay. Because, he knows all about cigarettes, and only too little about the dangers. Such that he is ready to follow the sound of distant memories and eager to follow the path of the smoke whose only escape is from the fire which threatens to engulf it whole. 

Undress Me

Take me apart layer by layer. Unclothe the deepest parts of me. Delicately untie all my restraints, take my fears apart from their seams, kiss the fragile parts of lingering hurt and whisper all the promises you seek to hold true.

It was somewhere between the lingering kisses that my walls found the earth from which they were made, sending all my protective walls to the ground. Exposing the parts of me I had long since forgotten exist.
It was somewhere between the soft caress of his hand, grazing the fragile parts of me as though it were a map to his soul mate. Tracing all the dreams, hopes and ambitions I knew I need share, only I did not know it would be with him.
It was somewhere between the tantalizing feel of his tongue licking at the wounds of past mistakes and regret, as he healed the mistakes that he did not make, as he erased the wrongs he did not do, wrongs and mistakes that were never his to heal nor erase.

Showing that sometimes the person who is to fit you like a jigsaw puzzle may be like a drop in the ocean. Unable to find you, but when something is meant for you, it will ride the tides around the world and will settle in the place it knows to be home. Your heart. As sure as blood will beat through your heart, as sure as oxygen will fill your lungs, he will trace the path through to your heart. Going through your ventricles, not missing a bicuspid valve, never mind a tricuspid valve. Promising to be that extra push when all seems dark, he will be the aorta that it is to supply the rest of you with hope. Promising to clear any synapses in the path to you.

See, with great promise comes great responsibility, but as sure as the ocean tides will kiss the ocean floor, he will honor that responsibility. As sure as spring will follow winter, he will follow you to the ends of the earth. As sure as the caress of ink, from a pen onto a page, he will engrave in his heart his promise to honor you,to love you, to show you just how his promise doesn't feel like responsibility.

Putting to bed the demons of your soul, like an exorcism, he will bring out the joy that lingers in the depths of your soul.

Well, if only.

Would you recognize yourself?

Would you believe me if I told you, you are who you are behind closed doors?
Would you still be the same shade of pride if we knew the person that lies beneath the layers?
If we undressed you and went digging in your well of self, would we still recognize you?
Would you recognize yourself if you were a stranger in a crowd?

Laced in the fabrication of self is the endless possibility of what you can be, only we spend more time fabricating self as opposed to bettering oneself.
Energy goes into the charade of what it is you pretend to be. because of the need to reach far to be.
See, this ideology of what you are; driven, self assured, is but a mirage
Yet, you turn around and are nothing of sort behind closed doors.

Humility is what you do when no one is watchin'
And if you are neither of the descriptive words you depict
You are as dishonest as the devil's spawn

Dear Fathers

Sometimes when it seems that your little protege won't make it through the storm, have you warm hand nearby for protection

When tears trickle down that chubby little face and you feel like you can do nothing right, know that one tear tells a thousand more words as opposed to a smile that can hide a library of thoughts

When you want to crawl into bed for just a second of sleep and hear screaming, having your heart skip a beat, is the only way to remind your heart who it beats for

And when you are up to your knee in responsibility, know that the most powerful position is on your knees in prayer.

Yours in Admiration
Children

Rumour Mill

The Walking Contradiction

“Do not compare me to that girl Mavis,” are the words that inspired this piece. It’s not a matter of trying to plead my case, because at no point will there be reference to my life situation, but rather dissecting how one can utter those words and not know the person in question.

See, we live in a society filled with more gossip than we can take in. Such that to we can draft a full up biography, with references, of people we have never met, never mind laid eyes on. Social media was invented to have humans interact and connect from miles away, and although there are plenty of advantages, the disadvantages stare us dead in the eye. That one can be so informed about another’s life without so much as having uttered a sentence to those said people over months. The bother is not so much the information as it is the use of information. That we can sit around a table and have a full fledged conversation about people we genuinely do not know. That rumours can colour another’s reputation by a simple “Did you hear?” and after that source A will be sure to add spice and everything nice at the next opportune time to share.

It irks me that we are so easily persuaded about peoples character without so much as an actual analysis, that one can have such an engraved opinion on someone they know nothing of. Not taking into consideration the obvious factors that will come into play, such as people will be sure to paint anyone in a negative light if they have a score to settle, jealousy is the greatest booster to telling loathsome things about another and the actual favourite, wanting to seem as though you know the said person when in actual fact, this person is not even aware you breathe oxygen never mind exhale carbon dioxide. However, trust and believe that your life will be discussed and painted an ugly smear of red to show just how worthless and shallow you are to the masses. What’s genuinely flabbergasting is how the rumour mill is sure to tell every nasty thing, but will evade all that paints the genuine you. Such that you will get the words, “You are nothing like what it is I expected.” Translated – I have heard so many things about you that no longer add up.

The reality of things is that people will always talk, the core of the matter is that it will not be by your probing or doing, but simply being. You do not have to be a gold digger to be labelled one, you do not have to be broke to be labelled poor, you do not have to be a female dog to be labelled loose, you do not have to do a damn thing but simply coexist on earth.

My biggest bother in life is how we expect treatment we will not readily reciprocate. The mass of water always looks far deeper then it is, is the very way people will portray depth, not knowing that at the reaching of you, you are as shallow as your judgement. We expect that rumours be said about us and people know better by observation and not believe everything they are told, because fact remains, people lie. Such that the rumour mill is filled to the brink with a cascade of lies that filtering for truth is like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Yet, the rumour mill does not run itself, humans do. What is the biggest contradiction is the speed at which we believe these said rumours about another, as its always funny when you are not on the receiving end, but the minute the tables turned, our default setting of believing the rumour mill should seize and we try analyse that this is nothing but mere lies.

Why should I believe you are better?

Why should you believe otherwise is the more appropriate question. As hearing about someone cannot be classed the same as knowing them. The very same way you expect that people get to know you through you, as opposed to what they have heard about you, you owe the same courtesy to another. Relating the very things you have heard about yourself that do not hold water, is the same way you should understand that it too can be done to another.  In the event that what you have heard is your reason for not wanting to avail the said person a chance to show you who they really are, can be respected. However, do not be the person that continues the rumour mill about another.

Don’t tell me what they said, tell me what made them comfortable to tell you.

See, this statement is so real. It should be the foundation of any friendship, as it is said show me your friends and I will show you who you are. What we fail to understand is that, some people are not your friends. The very people that can be clothed as your friends, are the ones rooting for your failure. By understanding that, you will then be able to decipher who genuinely is a friend. There is a significant difference between an acquaintance and a friend. The ability to be able to differentiate and critically analyse who brings rumours to you is essential. How they heard about you, is where the key lies.

Double Standards

We expect that people know better and not believe the lies told about us yet believe the lies old about others. It genuinely does not come together, its contradicting and shows a wavering in character stability. Knowing your stance on a matter and being able to stand firm in your belief system will ensure that you know very well how to react to situations such as that, the rumour said about another. I, particularly have no time for that, “He said, she said” bollocks, it is an utter waste of time and is just plain not needed.

So, here is a conversation I had with a guy who genuinely took the scales off my eyes.

Him: I am the most judgemental person I know, and I do not try down-play it, I am genuinely honest about it.

Me: Being judgmental say a lot more about you than it does about the other person, as humans have a tendency to portray our insecurities onto others. As a reflection of internal insecurities, they derive satisfaction in looking down upon another’s.

Him: I am only as judgmental as I am because I expect the utmost from myself, so in turn I set they very same standards for other people. Those insecurities you speak of are not internal, but rather external as I am not blind to them and I too do not try cover them up with lies of solitude.

Me: That further cements my analysis on your insecurities, only difference is they are not deep rooted and internal, but rather external and your awareness may be stronger than that of the average human.

We all embody insecurities we low-key try reflect on other people. The fact that as humans we tend to derive flaws from other people, says a lot more about oneself than it does about the other person. Rarely do we have people actually acknowledge their reflection of themselves onto others, such that when judgement is cast it really is a reflection of oneself as opposed to the lacking of another. In truth, we sneer at things we cannot fully comprehend, judge the things we do not understand and want after the things we spend our time talking about.

The Rich Dad. and Poor Dad

I have 2 fathers.
A rich dad
and
A poor dad

The Poor Dad
There was always too much me and too little him
I, always too eager and him, not enough time to linger
Always a phone call, a late call hindering my call out to him
Always too needing and him to busy to see
That,

"Sometimes the very people we expect the most from,will give us the least.
Always the ones we love too much who will hurt us the most"

He Shared my DNA
He is my father.

The Rich Dad
He told me that, "No mistake and no heart break can take away what it is I am mean to be".
He was patient, lenient and was ready to catch me at any time.
Ready to stretch his hand, spread wide his fingers and grasp the dreams that fell from the confounds of my little imaginative brain. He held onto my words and redraw beautiful images of past utterance.

Showing me all that it is I can be
All that it is am destined to be
All it is I am.

He is my dad.

Only, we didn't share a DNA.
We didn't bear resemblance
His blood did not beat through my heart, yet our hearts intertwined forming a much greater bond than can be brought about by blood.
We grew into one another like the feeling of nostalgia brought about by Deja Vu, of a time we neither knew existed or wished into existence. As both looked incredibly similar in the formation of a father-daughter relationship.

I have two fathers.
A rich dad and a poor dad.
I am the living protege of a rich dad and poor dad.

See, to be a father takes far more then having been a living factor in procreation. For a child needs affection, that is not to be an inclination of you having fathered the winning sperm, but a much greater passion that is to swell the heart with a longing for devotion to this soul that is to be your Aphrodite.

It tears my heart apart to see the wounded eyes of a child in an orphanage, trying to fathom what it is they could possibly have lacked at childhood to have been given up for adoption as though never having been an option.
It tears my heart into splinters of glass, trying to piece together how to shield these children from the ruthless hands of

Child molesters for fathers
Child abusers for fathers
Drug addicts for fathers
Alcoholics for fathers

Unable to realise that this is but a child, a mere mortal, whose only mistake and strike to life is having been the winning sperm.

On the other hand, it warms my heart to know that there are men out there who do not need sententious probing to take up their rightful positions as fathers and can be what they are intended to be. They can stand up tall and take up their positions of protection, love and care. As they understand that it takes far more then a DNA to be a father, it takes standing up and acting the part.

So,

we say
T H A N K
YOU
We say, thank you to the step-fathers who fill the blank spaces
Thank you to the fathers who don't leave voids
We say, thank you.

Black History Month

I am proudly black.

Not amber, not a yellow bone, not mixed race, but proudly black. 

Because when asked what tribe I am, I do not proudly profess that I embody Portuguese blood, pleading ignorance at the fact that my ancestors were raped by the colonizers. What pride is there in the light skin of my mother,as a result of the rape my great grandmother endured at the hands of those that colonized and enslaved us. Why do we downplay our actual tribe which is bantu, instead of the colonizers language. Instead, we proudly profess, "I am mixed!"

We then descend into this vain attempt of narcissism, because we are so fluent in the queens language and laugh at our fellow brothers and sisters when they mix up their 'L's and 'R's, not knowing that in the Oshikwanyama (native) language there is no letter 'R'. Hence, the inability for those that grew up speaking Oshikwanyama to pronounce words with the letter 'R'. Yet we sing praise to the child who has mustered the English language, but cannot speak their native language. It's a damn shame that you find those who pretend they cannot speak their native language, coupled with an English laced accent they will proudly profess, "ihandi popyi oshiwambo nawa tsog". 

So let me get this straight, the very people who took land from your forefathers, sold your mothers into slavery, used the slaves children as bait for alligator hunting, beat your fathers if they could read and traded your sisters as though for bread on a hungry day, are the ones language you want to hold close and wear proudly as a medal?

So influenced are we by western culture that the lighter your skin, the more beautiful. The more slurred your accent, the more attractive. The straighter your hair, the more appealing. The thinner your body, the more fitting. And so we forget our culture and spend every dime we procure on weaves, skin bleaching products and every slimming pill that is new on the market. We go on to pop bottles and spend on women, whilst our mothers go hungry in the places where our cultures still linger. Well, as long as you drive the latest merc right? As long as instagram has an update on the fancy dish you ate this afternoon right? As long as snap chat knows just how ostentatious your life is right?

We trade in essential parts of ourselves for trivial possessions. We have long given up our natural beauty of who we really are, natural kings and queens. 

My biggest envy is the man and woman who wears the colour of their skin as just that skin, who are not defined by societies standards of colour. Who have their minds an intellectual mix of African history, engraved in their heritage and content within themselves, as above all, they believe themselves to be African gods and goddesses. 

Because, "What you want? A bentley? Fur coat? All you blacks want all the same thing", does not form a part of their caliber. 

How I discovered Spoken Word

In all that is him, he had the ability to still my mind without needing to utter a word

The caress of his voice was enough to bring peace to my otherwise tormented mind

There was no need to fill the blank spaces of silence, no need to say meaningless words for fear that not enough was said.

Instead, he filled the once empty spaces with words that took on meaning

Rhyming them like a song that would carry my worries with it into the wind

Away from any dark thoughts, away from any uncertainty and into a peaceful serenity.

He inspired.

Inspired from his brisk storytelling, his relentless ability to tell it as is without the need to sugar coat a story, such that its telling did not leave a bitter taste on your palate. That in his serenity of himself you saw a gentleness that needed imploring and was there for the taking. A contrast of character so captivating it made you want to take a bite into its soft flesh of difference.

So write he said, what is stopping you from carrying out your life long longing of standing up tall and doing what will make your heart overflow with ability. And so he prodded and lead me to my very first spoken word audition. Where I would discover that poetry was to come from the deepest parts of your soul, to lay breath in the story you are to tell, from your voice to their ears, to their hands, such that when you soak it should be as though their hands can touch and feel what you feel in writing those very pieces

Pieces of yourself

Pieces of what can be

Pieces of poetry

Take your time it said, with all that you do, that your writing not be littered with bitterness that you cannot shake, but rather with a taste of experience, littered with lessons and coupled with the flavour of life. It does not need to taste of lemonades, because frankly it’s time we start rejecting the lemons life hands to us and start demanding for strawberries, tasting of promise, or litchis dripping with solitude or grapes covered in contentment.

And so I took my time to write, and write I did. 

Sunshine and Rainbows

I know the colour of love

It’s painted a perfect yellow that will stare into the depths of your soul, blinding you with rays of light.

A perfect green that shows you just how perfect these green pastures are and that none else is greener on the other side.

Knowing you will make it through the miracle of you, is the true colour of one’s soul, as it’s the colour of love.

Knowing you will make it through any trial and tribulation that the world will throw on your path of a happily ever after. Knowing that in this human you find imperfect perfection that is molded to fit your side like a jigsaw puzzle.

Knowing that you can dive straight into oblivion and into the arms that fit right around you, capturing parts of you didn't know existed, wanting you to go deeper than you will ever know.

Because when you are about to dive in, you know that if ever you were to hit rock bottom, he will be there to catch you. Regardless of circumstance, you can drift and have one another to hold onto.

Because, although it may seem funny to the person looking in from the outside, hoping to clear the path for your crash landing, you can smile at the desperation they have for your fall, because you have the answers to questions they didn't even know they need ask. Because, although they want you to be their clown, you know that nothing that is of the heart is a laughing matter.

Because, when you need to smile and you can’t afford it, you can point right at the person who can make laughter more familiar than a tear on your face. They will never stop breaking the law for you, turning to dust all that may hinder their path to you. They will never stop seeking the glimmer of your smile, they will never tire of making you laugh and no matter what the dark may look like, they know the light you bring to their eyes.

Because, although people may give a round of applause at the thought of him deceiving you, you can only have the last laugh. Because, in you taking that bow, you know that at the end of the show, you go to those warm arms. As the curtain closes, you envision the life that lays before you, promising nothing but sunshine and rainbows. Talking about girl I love you, you are the one, when he tells you he is sorry, he will mean every letter that makes up the word, s for sincere, o - oh, r – redemption r- regretful y – yearning.

He will tell all the girls no, and it will make him feel good. The pleasure in knowing that his eyes are set for only one girl, that your walls are built high and only he sees beneath your beautiful. Tonight will merge into eternity of contentment. At no point will your voice need to utter the words, “please don’t hurt me” and so you will let him see beneath your beautiful, as perfect as you are.

Because, no matter how high you may fly, he will be your safe landing, because baby since the day you came into my life, you made me realize we were born to fly. All fantasies of love are but visions until they manifest into a reality that has you combobulated between your reality and dreams, because this love is blazing, and you are so high, walking on cloud 9.

When you mad, you make that angry face, but all I see is beauty. And one thing that I do know, is that when you scream in frustration, we will turn those screams of frustration into scream of pleasure that will have the neighbors know my name.

Because I think you are truly something special and just what my dreams are truly made of.

*So into you x Tamia Fabulous 

I am not

I am not all that society perceives socially acceptable
I do not dress my personality up to your standards
I am not feverishly rushing to fit myself into your classification of
Decent
Well Mannered
Suiting
I am not caught in an invisible fight of superiority
For my priority is not what you perceive socially acceptable
But rather what my mind knows to be
I do not pick my food, I eat well
I do not wear long skirts, I wear figure hugging dresses
I do not smile and nod at everything you say
I pick out intellectually stimulating pieces of information
That will build me and my intellect

Only, they do not want outspoken, smart and strong
No!
They want quiet, polite and easy molding
They preach independence, but want you to be dependent
For, a woman who is self sufficient is not needing enough
They say, "we feel sorry for the man you will marry."
But turn around to mock the woman who is not strong in herself.
What?
Which is it?
Independent or dependent?