Holding on to many selves, with distinct characters of each alter ego, I loathing the sense of each talking among each other.
My mind is split into multiple Schizophrenic tendencies and insomnia
breathing many sleepless nights, an uncomfortable manner of rest coils
my spin into a lotus position of prayer as I yearn to evict the demons
holding me to the world where tongues are spoken into dying languages.
I see God in each blink of a decaying self, his hand reaches out into
the blindness to pull only one of me but the persistence of other
manifestations proves to be pestering and painting shades of darkness
where my shadow sits awaiting me to walk in the light so it too may rid
itself of its own shadows.
Love draws its own conditions to manifest itself, unconditional is
her music but ever change is her melody as one self yearns to dance to
her lusty explicit song, my other self admires from a far and draws
conclusions and possibilities to each manner of approach, words would
roll from my tongue as a poet would speak but on approach my tongue
would freeze and break into a cold stutter and faulty steps, sweaty
palms let slip my hold of first impressions.
As too many selves cluster my thoughts and I cannot pin point where
she fits in on my paradise island where I alone displace the empty
spaces where the torn fabrics of time were sworn by leprechauns into
rainbow strips, now seven different shades of gray and no pot of gold
waits on the other side, just broken pieces of my glass heart shouting
shattering screams.
Like solitude I’m confined to a lonesome existence that of an island
and silence holds on to my diction and definition, I want to speak of
her and taste the beauty in her name yet my tongue is pulled in two
different directions to take shape of a serpent tongue and I utter
deceit in space of her name.
I look in the mirror and see a million selves and realise though
different each of them pixel the one reflection I see when I part with
lady insanity, at that point I’m at my most venerable like that of a
child parted from a mother’s comfort.
So I write, I place poetry to each of me defining their depth of
speech, translated into egyptian dead languages that the gods themselves
dear not speak yet many of me utter each sentence of this forbidden
into poetry.
I would soon strip the skin off my flash to find the one true self,
maybe in my naked form I will find God again and rid myself of these
demons that never stop talking in my head, one dressed in red and the
other white, both spirits are shadow less and cold to the touch I shiver
in their presence.
I remember when I too was a god, commanding thunder through my finger
tips and had a grip over storm weather by my mere speech, now I’m just a
mere mortal finding ground on empty spaces where kings and queens go to
die into modern slaves to an unforgiving mother earth.
Only one of me will break bondage to stand with a fist up claiming
poetry as a mother tongue and birthing a mute child into a bilingual
freedom fighter…
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Thursday, 10 November 2011
Friday, 28 October 2011
FairyTale Poetry
Word, craft, art... Artist, craftsman, poet. Smith words into sharp objects,
knights in shining words welds a mighty pen, damsel distressed utters poetry
into screams. Help this tower of thought teases my fear of heights and has only
one window I cannot breathe, O Romeo, Romeo... Romeo does belong in this
fairytale; this missing gap between the realities of a dream is filled with
liquid tongue flow. Hum ok Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your gold weave, wake
sleeping beauty from her slumber so she too can try on the glass slipper, take
Cinderella to her matric dance in a pumpkin limo as snow white her seven little
chaperons get drunk of apple cider. OK, guess my name three times and I will reveal to you an ever after happy ending and the secret to removing Excalibur from a stoned king Arthur. Art, craft, word, poet, craftsman, artist. Paint rainbows on night skies watch dying stars shoot for the moon but sky is the limit, limit? uhmm... Suspend sound on a word. Place to it music, now sing. Sing lullabies to your child poetry because these fairytale stories fail to separate him from the reality of his dreams.
Craft, word, art, artist, poet, craftsman.
Architect a reality for imagination to house insanity foundation that on a child's constantly moving mind, and so doing picture a story unfolding into curiosity, what if I could write poetry as a child, watch a world reveal itself before my eyes and animate my characters into pop up story books.
Word, craft, art. Artist, craftsman, poet, Poet takes the form of a prince
charmed by a princess like beauty and he melts into poetry giving praise to her
creator and rewrites a fairytale with a love making scene, where his words
caress her body to a back and forth motion of heavy breathing and sweating that
reads them to an orgasmic climax.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Lady Blaq
She has performed at Word N Sound, Rose Bank College(Braam), Ko'spong(Braam) and most recently took over K4's mixtape launch, performing her piece, Jozi Maboneng and Ndoda ndigu mfazi.
She poetry is dressed in her own words, she dares to speak a body language mothered by her tongue. She poet Lady Blaq pride knows the essence of her craft.
-eZEE-
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Immortalize the Sound of Movement
We immortalize the sound of movement in each moment, we tell of a thousand words holding pictures to the skies. Watch this this moment go by as if it never happened, reminisce, smile, laugh and then cry because times like these, the good times, come only once and I'm glade I spent this time and moment with my brothers.. NORTH BOYS
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Chant to night, tonight
as we whisper wishful song to the stars.
Let us chant to night, rain dance on the moon raise the son as our own,
as we chant to night tonight..
Monday, 22 August 2011
Poetry
Jozi poets speak out November 12, 2003By Tshepiso Mogotsi PREPARE to be enchanted by the magic of words as Jozi's poets get together to mix up some verbal spells at the SoWhereTo poetry celebration in Newtown on Sunday. Performers at the monthly event, on at the Newtown Music Hall, formerly the Mega Music Warehouse, on Sunday 16 November include Lebo Mashile, Zee, Brown, Samantha, Kojo Baffoe, Mac Manaka, Bafana, Nonkululeko Godana and Flo.  Lebo Mashile and Samantha will take part in the poetry celebration Photo from Thunda.com The SoWhereTo poetry and music project was launched last month by Outspoken Events to link all the creative art forms of art, music, drama and dance through the spoken word. The aim of the monthly sessions is to promote the artists and give them an opportunity to be heard. Does the name Kgafela oa Magogodi ring a bell? He is known only to those familiar to the rarefied world of poetry. But, through the SoWhereTo poetry project, this is about to change. On Sunday Magogodi, together with his band, will speak out, performing new and favourite poems. The project, says Godana, is a celebration of the journey of legendary poets like Magogodi, who have often worked alone with little acclaim, preparing the way ahead for new, young, talented poets and artists. "The project seeks to address the question 'so where to' from here?" Sunday will also see Hip Hop Pantsula perform songs from his latest album, O Mang. The SoWhereTo poetry events will be staged every month, "for as long a poetry still lives", says Godana. Sunday's event starts at 1.30pm and runs until 5pm. Tickets can be bought for R40 at the door.
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