I feel weak
Weak from the heart down to every step I take, because they represent the struggle I have walked
Those very steps are a print in the sand that shows I was there
I took pain in, it became who I am and it has engulfed me and suffocated me
I can see beyond the pain
I can't see through the fog of resentment
My heart beats against my rib cage, reminding me with every passing heart beat of the pain
It is in the memory that my knees buckle, giving in from all the burdens my shoulders can't carry
Those burdens have made me who I am, ANGRY!
Angry at the world, angry at my reality, angry at all the foolishness.
Who am I to think I am any better then any other homo Sapien Sapien
Is it not true that with the luxury of drawing breath is the horrible affiliation of life
You can't smell the rose without piercing your skin with the thorns?
You can't hold onto the dear memories of a once lived happy life
Without facing the spots of black
Everything will come with a beautiful picture, but with that picturesque view comes pain of past memory
How am it to smile everyday when all I really want to do is succumb to the pressures of life?
How am I to begin searching for the rainbow, when the rain wont seize?
Tell me.

I claw onto the nearest pillar of strength I can find because my reality knows not of standing alone
The though is enough to drive darkness back into its corner,
enough to drive the sea away from its shore
enough to take the feeling of want with it.
Want after nothing, dare not hope and ensure you keep every being at arms length
is

the lesson taught from all past experience

But to what?
To never wanting to fully live?
See the debacle is all in the questions asked with no answer.
If I don't have the answers, how can I ever teach?

The Love of my life

The Love of my life
She named me "Pombili Ihapupotwa"
Translated: You will not disrupt peace

She is the beat to my heart, the ray to my sun.. The love of my life..

When I look at the fragile skin that illuminates the shine of her heart.. I see my Queen.

To fully love, warmth needs to fill your heart, threatening to explode and show the world just what it lies in its depth
It wants to draw stars in the sky, that will light up galaxies for centuries to come
It wants to hold on tight and never loose its grasp on this beauty
It wants to lie on your chest and hear your heart beat for hope that, that beat never runs out

To love, is to fully give yourself and being
"If this be error upon me, then I never writ, nor men ever loved"
I have written and I have loved.. I love.

When I look at her, I see more than a woman, I see truth, I see soul
When she smiles, her smile lights up the room
Her laughter, is soul baring and echoes through a room
Her loud voice will be heard

She has been my care-taker from birth
When my mother returned to school after giving birth to me, she fed me
She cared for me, but most importantly, she loved me
From the struggle of having me change my socks to a matching pair as I would not let up the different paired socks,
To teaching me how to say "Paturura" for I was convinced that there was no other way to say open in the Oshiwambo language
She fought with me, as my sense of dress code made no sense in the 1900's
Yet, I insisted I wanted to wear an orange beenie, matched with a pink crop top and yellow jeans, mis-matched socks and ill paired shoes
She would make me two lunch boxes of food, as by the time I reached school, the first has been devoured
And so she would replace it at the school entrance gate
She beat me, for I believed to be above eating porridge
I believed myself to be allergic to eating "pap"
"Ek is a bok wat nie pap eet nie"
And then there was the inevitable day I reported her to the cops.. Let me explain..

Soooooooooo..
One fateful day my "nkero" manners decided to grace the earths with stubbornness so deep rooted, it couldn't be moved
 My Granny asked that I wash up the afternoon dishes on my return from school
When the clock hit 3pm, not a crockery was cleaned and so the warning descended on me
"Kana ka'Kandiwapa, you will wash those dishes by 5pm, else you will see me today..", were the warning words
As stubborn as I was, the words fell off my shoulder, as carelessly as they had been thrown my way
And so 5pm came and went, and in a flash of an eye, my grandmother gave me the most unexpected, fast and painful beating of my life
Smart at age 7, I walked my crying little self to the nearest police station and reported my grandmother for beating me..lol
So, the cops drove me home to arrest my grandmother, in them telling her to come with them
Reality sets in, and I got hysterical, begging that they not take my granny, please!
Let's just say I was the talk of the family for years.. and she still speaks of this to date.
I had then officially earned myself the title "probleem kind"

Our experiences are plentiful, but what will forever bear close to my heart, is the bond we share
The love I have for her, as well as the love she has for me
I know that she prays tirelessly for me
She sees success in me, and so I shall never live to see disappointment in her eyes
I will work till I see the bones in my hands to ensure that I see tears of joy in her eyes at the prospect of having to wish after nothing
The world will be hers, and through her prayers, I will avail her this
This I promise

The last time I saw her,
I recently went to Tsumeb to go spoil my Queen in the time that my bank account allowed for this
I took her shopping and ensured I bought her all her room needed
Made it over and made her comfortable in a room intended for the Queen she is
She didn't step foot out her room for days in joy and contentment

As she ages, my only wish is that she live to see all that she means to me
For me to be able to avail her all that the world has to offer
That she be healthy enough to enjoy the luxuries
In the mean time however, I will work
Work till exhaustion is my only excuse
Work to keep her happy with the little that I can
But most importantly, I will love the beauty that is the love of my life
She is my grand mother, Lovis Aron.

Take A Chance

Take that leap of faith that sets your destination apart from your reality
Ensure that you take that leap with a spring of joy in your step
Take it with your heart and ensure that your heart beat is the rhythm of the song
Let ballads become an endless vibration seducing your very core
Promising you the world
In the very Promise is a silent whisper
That eases the fear into oblivion
Whispering you truth
A destiny set in place before you were conceived

See, a promise is just that until it is seen out

In every promise is a magical experience of expectation
Deep rooted and anticipating
Wanting, needing and most importantly feeling
Feeling full of joy at the prospect
Why then can you not let those very expectations caress you?
Caress the very breath that it draws away
Ensuring that there never be a bleak day ahead
Promising sunny days, Green Pastures, love filled days
Filled to the brink with all your expectations being seen out into a reality
A reality you will struggle to grasp because it looks awfully similar to your dreams

When your dreams start to intertwine with your reality
Only then are you fully living
As it becomes one series of beauty
It does lie in the beholder
And my prayer is that this beholder only ever see one beauty
and that beauty is me.

Satisfaction

Dissatisfaction will always be our prison, and as you stare through the iron bars into the life you wish to attain, you will never be fully aware of the empty spaces that fill you. Whether it is all in the drive to acquire a mental plan to break those iron bars holding you a prisoner, or whether it is the paralysis of fear is debatable. Ultimately, it all narrows down to a mental prison, or what they have come to name a mental breakdown. 

The need to work because one is not complacency's best friend is admirable, however what then happens when you are UNABLE to take rest. Many will laugh at this absurd idea, not knowing that it in actual fact is plausible. It has happen to many and will continue to do so as humans are generally dissatisfied humans, so much such that engulfs us, or rather me. 

I have been meaning to blog about the unequal distribution of wealth coupled with greed. Now that I am at it, I may as well get into it and later on touch on the subject I had intended to dissect. 

We are quick to point a finger at those in power, easily angered by misuse of power and hell of a lot touched by our want of those very positions. Do not get me wrong when I say that, because many are quick to put up a defensive arm in protecting their vanity. Corruption is not inborn, nor is in embedded in ones DNA, there is no chromosome that reads, 'Will be a thief". No, it is circumstance, opportunity and the oh-mighty greed. That is all it boils down to. So, why then are we so quick to ride on Donald Trumps nuts about being an arrogant bastard, that will tell anyone that cares to listen about his success, never mind the road to this said success. See, he is an honest breed bastard, and I sure as hell admire that in any given person. He does not bask in a lack of self awareness we call humility. He is down right honest to the bone. That He, Donald Trump, worked hard and has the right to squander his money however he pleases. Is this not the very aspirations we too embody, success? Are we not constantly chasing the next level to success, blindly so, that we never sit back and think, wait, is this not the poverty gap I am indeed trying to jump?

In actuality, we are all racing one another trying to be the one who jumps this poverty gap and are then set to the other side, the elite side of things. The side that allows for one to sit back and say "I did it, I can now spend however it is I please". Yet you scorn Mr. Trump, sit your contradicting self down. Now, this is a rather complex thought, and I am finding difficulty in placing it on paper. What I am saying is that we scorn the poverty gap, although rightly so, we are in actual fact not trying to close this gap, we are trying to jump it. We all want our piece of the cake, we all want to be financially comfortable and well, the rare breed wants a legacy. If one is to actually be utterly honest with oneself, why then are you dissatisfied with your given job, it provides a place to sleep and pays the bills, yet you want more. Is that more not better known as greed? See, there, now we want to argue greed and ambition, this is called making up excuses dear sir/madam. To correctly phrase this, we speak ill of greed but we ourselves are greedy. The inequality gap is born out of dissatisfaction which we ALL embody. 

So, I am greedy, I want more. What sets me apart is, I want more but not at the cost of others. I will sow back into my community, and this is not my win-them-over speech. I can stand tall and testify to giving back, when I had nothing to give. It does not make me a better person, it just means I think beyond myself and my aspirations. I stop to think about those with less opportunities then I do, if we could all center our thinking like this, I for-see an equal distribution of resources. Impossible? Well yes, because GREED. 

Back to mental breakdowns, see ambition can engulf you till your eyes are scaled with nothing but that dream. You will, live, eat and breathe that need to succeed. Mornings, are met with a rush to attend to mail, afternoons are met with a rush to attend to meetings and evenings are filled with more work than you can complete. Sleep eludes you, because of this dream you see and need to curb your way to by all means and costs. Forgetting however, that sleep is to be a part of the equation of success. 

Fear of complacency is every driven persons fear, not fear as popularly believed. Fear is embraced as a learning curve, complacency however is avoided like a plague. It is in this avoiding that sleep is not seen as a priority, if anything, books are read that tell of success persons who survive on 4 hours sleep, and look at this wambo try duplicate this. Now, by all means, read success stories and derive from it formulas that too can work for you, but my DZIA PREASE LEST!!

Mental breakdowns are an actual thing, not a myth put in place by the first world order in an attempt to scare the average person off a dream. Yal read way too much illuminati / first world order conspiracies. When you are over whelmed by your responsibilities, so much so that there is always one or the other thing that needs doing, re-evaluate your life and prioritize, This is why the importance of a life plan is stressed, because you can not grab every ball life throws your way. Choose them well and in turn walk that beautiful road to success. Complacency is not an awful thing if placed right, if you are at a place in your life where that's the road you ought to be walking, do not be staring at that of the next person and in turn leave yourself wanting. That's the imprisonment I spoke of earlier, your life does not need to be a prison always looking to be freed into the life of another. Live your own life and be happy in it, if not, quit staring at iron bars and bloody well make it what you want. Ain't nobody got time. *drops mic*

Bare my Soul

Temptation is just that, a clawing hand that draws you with images of perfection.. or rather what we perceive to be perfection, whilst in actuality it is all but a dream. All but a collage of the life we wished was bestowed upon us. Only, that clawing hand promises more then it is willing to deliver. So where is the glitch, is it in attaining this life we dream of, or in the road one needs to travel to attain it.. 

See perfection is too in the eyes of the beholder, as what may satisfy you may not satisfy the next person. 

"She claws onto the toilet seat, gasping for air. What she thought was a nightmare she could wake up from was her new reality. It hurt, hurt more then any fathomed pain she thought herself able to endure. See, right there is the glitch, she doesn't think she can live though it. The pain is too unbearable. Too deep. Her only thought is, "How could she?". She was mad at her life long best friend, who took the only thing she held dear. The love of her life. "Fcuk her", is her second thought. "They can both go screw themselves". Ironically that is exactly what they did. 

She grew up with a little more then a sack cloth to cover herself from the wrath of a cold night. Trusted little and vowed to never be vulnerable. On the dusty streets of Katutura, you learn to be hard as stone. You learn to fight the biggest of the bullies, in attempt to stay relevant, and more yet to not be looked down upon. Only, with this hard soul to the world, was a vision that no one could steal from her even in the cold of the night. She had a dream to fulfill, she wanted success. By all means possible she scrambled pennies, sold bottles at super markets who would award you with little more then was fair. With that she saved, and went to school. Her luck came one fateful day, when her teacher took notice of her. For all the wrong reasons of course. She looked rowdy, and was months behind on school fees payments. Yet, she continued coming to school regardless how they probed her to stay away. Until, she was sent to the principals office, in teachers in vane attempt at getting her thrown out.

 The principal saw something in her, a light and a burning desire she could not turn a blind eye too. After all, her professional vision was trained to spot talent and ambition a  mile away. She took her in and molded her to all that she is today. From a dead rose bush, she sprung into a beautiful Lilly. She shone, and came top in all her classes. This was to ensure that life didn't grab from her the opportunity some can only dream of whilst others take it for granted. And so success was hers.

 To the day 24 September 2006, she had not let a soul in. aaand then she met him. He was a picturesque view, looked as though he was cut straight out a catalog. Her heart melted at the sight of him, and she stared till he noticed her. It must have been love at first sight as it seemed every puzzle piece found its mate piece. Right behind him, was a tall dark haired model, she mistakenly presumed. She too was gorgeous, she looked up and waved her over. Awkwardly, she stumbled toward the pair, unaware of what she was doing or where she was going. She was drawn, to him, to her. That day, she spoke to these two strangers. She spoke and told them her story, from the very raw detail of gang fights, to the sleepless nights of med school. He instantly became her significant other and she instantly became her best friend. They were the trio! 

"How stupid was she to not detect their clear attraction to one another?", she thought. They were friends for 16 years, and she theirs for 8! That fateful day,she opened her heart up, bare! She wore her heart on her sleeve from that day onward, and everything changed. This rock heard hearted girl, changed! She smiled more often and embodied the Lilly she was likened to. 

Now everything went dark. Her soul gave out, and everything seemed to lack the light it needed. 

She packed her bags and moved. She never looked back. She left and made a start for new beginnings. After all, the only mother she knew was long dead. 

See, she was in love with the idea of the significant other and her heart. She believed that they could be trusted, but even in her perfect picture and its fantasy, she saw cracks. She saw those very cracks and turned a blind eye. They lived the life many could only dream of and had the physique to match this life. She beautiful, him handsome. They took me under their wings and molded me into the African queen I thought I was destined to be. Years went by, and I wanted what they had, but I was never brought up to drown in envy, so I locked it up, only it stayed. Although, they had character traits that came with having more then you could ask for, insecurity was high on the list. I remember one drunken night she said, "You know babe, I envy you". That was the end of that.

Now, I see. Although they had the life one could call perfect, they lacked the one thing any human is to embody, authenticity!

"What we are all striving for is authenticity, a spirit-to-spirit connection" - Oprah Winfrey 

Broken

They all see past me, ignore my very core existence. Make no effort to acknowledge my presence at any given occasion. They all laugh and smother her with love, cuddling and hugging her. It is by no means jealousy as it is envy. I am not jealous of what affection they give her, as I don’t want it. I am envious of her persona, who she is and what she stands for. I crave to embody her traits, so much so that I have fantasies where I am her and her ability to not be a prig. The whole debacle had become a truism to me.

I shrivel at the thought of what is about to happen, as I am fully aware. He strips me of my clothing, without a hint of gentleness. First, he tears at my pants, yanking them off me, and still I don’t make a sound. He wears a look of belligerence in his eyes, coupled by a hint of anger. The resentment is evident in his smirk, alongside it vanity. He looks me in the eye, daring me to fight, daring me to move, and daring me to make an escape from his filthy, blood reeking hands. I make no move to leave, nor fight his rough hands. He continues to cut my shirt open, revealing my bare braless chest. To his satisfaction, I wince. I look away, and count the minutes away, that feel like years. He rapes me.

Even as a I play this thought out, it does not come close to the reality I wish upon myself. Years of hatred towards men, has grown heart deep and has poisoned me like un-oxygenated air, beginning to fill the spaces that linger. It runs in my veins, jumping synapses and not missing a beat. It’s engulf is consolation for what I have done, the lies I have told. Buried so deep in my hate for men, I have forgotten its origin. What was supposed to be a mere day dream, turned into a reality when one fateful day I was unable to stop the words from tumbling out my broken heart and saying the words, “He raped me.”

It was the perfect lie, as it justified my inability to get along with men, it justified my lack of respect but most of all it provided room for pity. I saw it in their eyes, the want to hold me and wish the pain away. Only, the pain was not of a man forcefully taking my one priced possession. No, it was pain that ran to the day of my birth. The man who helped in my creation walked out on his creation. It made me feel as though I was not enough, as though the bundle of joy a child is to be, was not bundled enough. That his heart could not skip a beat at the sight of me, that his heart could not fill with love for me such that it is all he knew. See this is where it all began, but no one knows.

Instead, they feed off my negative energy which gives them reason enough to stay away, to keep their distance, to treat me like glass. Glass, has the properties with which I have lived all my life. It shields the wind threatening to disperse anything that may lay in its wake, yet one looks right through it. I am that glass, I am that reflection that only shows face in the sight of darkness. Only then can one see the reflection that is a girl begging to be seen.

I envy her ability to forget that our father walked out on us. She is able to smile regardless of the neglect that is an absent father. Her ability to smile, shine and be all that she is destined to be without being crippled by things that cannot be changed. Why then am I unable to take back the lie, that I was not raped. Instead, I should tell the truth, “I was robbed of a father”.

This is purely fiction. It’s something I am trying out. Post your comment and let me know what you think.

Simple

I never fully grasped the idea of, “If you do what you love, you will never have to work a day in your life’, the wisest words to ever grace the world of phrases. If one is to dissect this saying and magnify its meaning as though under a microscope. It tells the story of the most successful figures to date. The love one has for your choice of expertise is what defines your level of success. If one is to look at the story of the man who build America, and date it back to the 1800’s, John D. Rockefeller,

took his love to make deals and built an empire from what was nothing to something.. Most success stories are sugar coated and give you a brief look into what is the actual story. No one breaks it down to the rainy days when defeat was all that they could fathom and tear so frustration loomed behind their eyes. No one tells you of the days when their cheeks were as familiar with tears down their given path as the path that is taken by oxygenated air. See motivational speaking is just that, it is designed to lead you to this path of green pastures, to guarantee you the sunny day at the end of the grey tunnel. However banal this may be, it is exactly that which boils down to how passionate and motivated you are to see out your dream.

The world has three categories, the ones who build empires and are on Forbes Most powerful list, those that work for the empire builders, and lastly those that refuse to see out the power manifested in them. You can choose your category pretty easy, because they are miles apart. Now, what makes all this all the more interesting is neither of these classes have more traits given to the one then the other. Not one has got better functioning synapses, neither has chromosomes with special enhancements, no. It all boils down to being human and not limiting your imagination. The one thing that can limit you is your medulla, if you are to tell yourself you will not take the risk to see out your dreams, then sweetheart, go build another persons dream it is that simple.