Showing category "Don Mattera Week" (Show all posts)
they welcome you with bright lights to blind you to the plight that plagues the poor and the involuntary blood transfusions that keep the city alive. this is the city of cities where the bitumen counterfeits your dreams and fits you into the machine. where your worth rises when your morals are at their worst. a purgatory where we start trouble back home so we can justify our sins and blame reality when we're too ashamed to lift up our chins. where people make peace with pieces of broken homes w... Continue reading ...
Carved on his wall are dreams and aspirations. Thoughts of success and willingness to be free seem to be his plight. songs of promise are heard from his heart with his hear beating to the same rhythm . he in melody allures growing fields of success. They then too fall into his deep charms of deceit. He promises silk and wine, tell you You could never want more. Before you he lays cashmere robes, scented with jasmine. He compares you to pearls of great prices. Yet all this fades as you are trapped... Continue reading ...
Jo’Burg You lure suitors from afar Bedecked in jewels With golden promises Luscious lips oozing honey tones You’re the heartbreaker Dream maker Streets littered with stories Like infinite confetti Carelessly tossed about As a chosen few Unlock your glories… © Su day 5 | 19 July 2011 Continue reading ...
His stride covered years of ‘impossibility’ with veils greatness as his footprints birthed a procession of protégés prostrated beneath statues that epitomized the will of his ambitions.
Tales of a better future were scrolls etched on his lifelines when he recited a past fallacy which now acts as the sleeves that we have written our constitution on from the shadows of his wrinkled heart.
His words were hymns for the aggravated and ritual chants for ripe fetuses. Out of his soul we mold bla... Continue reading ...
In a land Grown cold With weeping He ignited Hope While dignity Lay almost a corpse He buried Subservience They cut Him down They tried To extinguish His message Hatred failed Lies recoiled Brutality was ashamed For we buried His body Yet they failed To quell The raging Bonfire Of his soul… © Su day 4 | 18 August 2011 Continue reading ...
I feel an eruption of emotion subtly teasing As I flutter at the moisture flirting with my eyes I'm marred by a sadness devoid of meaning I frantically explore archives of memory Obliviously staring into unoccupied space I struggle to find the seed that's given birth to this This conception of sadness... Could it be the disappointment of unmet expectation? Or the naive spirit lacking compassion ? Thrusted into a pool of emotions, The domestic distractions momentarily dissolve the pounding in my chest... Continue reading ...
Rejoicing! He gathered us near Stay awake Children If you cease to walk by day Let your light shine by night Or else you may stumble And fall from lofty heights For today’s hero Is tomorrow’s enemy For the enemy is you The enemy is me When we let Lack of truth Impugn our sight Yet, sleep now For tomorrow Brings new light © Suday 3 | 17 August 2011 Continue reading ...
the sun sets the platform where a pantomime of omnipresent ideas conquer life's desolate stages...
sunset pauses the pursuit of desires and pages time towards the climax of fantasies and after-shock of nightmares...
freedom rides sun rays, dances with noon and patiently waits to free us when we enslave ourselves in night cells.
selling our souls with hopes of being used for what we think we're worth and not the values that make us look unworthy.
the sun sets reality in motion, evokes our memories and thr... Continue reading ...
We
heard the bugle Sounding
afar Ferreting
through the doom and dust Into
the great ritual rivers and
murmur mountains. howling
at the bleeding moon which
bleeds from wombs and tubes of
white nights in the barrenness of June. Even
so We
heard it coming closer and closer, Towards
the ear of God, Our
faith conceived in utter darkness, loyal
to the sobering night, of
kisses as many as the stars, We
loved and made love, My
hand traversed the limber thigh Of
a dark continent, I
felt the first light, Heard
th... Continue reading ...
Haar asem kan die revolusie begin
as sy net wou, as sy net kon...
maar die doofstomheid
van jare se verdwaal....
het haar kom haal
en sy sit verdwaas in 'n grougrys land
bomskok verys, bomskok geraas
haar asem kan die revolusie begin
as sy net wou, as sy net kon...
maar wat sal haar weer oppluk opruk
uit bomskok depressie tot groot geluk kleinkinders se klokkie laggies?
'n dogter wat haar saggies
vashou,vasdruk
maar dan sak sy weer terug
met 'n grougrys sug...
haar asem kan die revolusie ... Continue reading ...
Her breath could start a revolution Her Chez Guevara eyes And the size of her sighs Mobilize voluptuous armies Causing chaos In the battles of my imaginings, Marching to the drum of desire And lighting bonfires Burning my best intentions to the ground. Her breath could start a revolution But it's her hipsthat revolve around venus In wild orbit Sending galaxies spinning, Launching rockets and Catherine wheels.
Her breath DID start a revolution When it carried her words Murmered breathless Conscripting my curi... Continue reading ...
I am, the Oracle
Whose words branch out
To touch the heavens and beyond
My leaves, flowers and seeds
Burst forth, coherently beckoning
Plucked and carried by the unchained wind
Caught in the chant and soulful songs
Of the growing discontented throng
Marching, dreaming, crafting
Freedom
From phantom liberties
Declared in law books
Yet hardly felt or owned
By those starving, weeping, harassed
Crushed in pockets across the globe
I plant in loving expectation
For you to reap
Free – from- D... Continue reading ...
I feel a poem inside centenarian and leeway,
sounding fearful voice writhing to survive. I feel a poem inside untameable riving gun of criminal-words bullets unwilling to compromise.
My emotional involution has now been whipped. I feel a poem inside.
© D'Afropolitana day 1 | 15 August 2011 short bio: Has a BA in Caribbean Studies with Spanish and Latinamerican Studies (main subject: Postcolonial Literature). Writing and Photography are my two hobbies for creative work. Spain. Continue reading ...
Ek voel 'n gedig hier binne my ek wens ek kan dit skryf en my drang bevry Ek voel 'n gedig in my siel opkook dit brand soos 'n lig van pretensie gestroop dit kielie en kruip teen my bewussyn op en sluip deur my vingers tot in my pen se loop dit lek deur swart ink tot op wit papier en kriewel en stoei van daar vêr tot hier
Ek voel 'n gedig van onder af borrel dit dans en dit dartel soos 'n stof korrel dit sypel osmoties deur my weerstand wat vreesaanjaend al my rympies terg en tart maar hierdie ene gly... Continue reading ...
words restructuring my dna,
modifying my heart-beats and synchronizing my Being with time as alphabetical cuticles massage my prostrated mind with messages from the ground that presents me. i feel a curse that has learnt how to conjure up blessings from dead pages onto history's deserted crevices, denied passages from a broken lineage that defines breaths in metaphors to remind me what I matter for.
the truth renaming my lies with lines thumping chants that haunt my reality and mount moral billboards on... Continue reading ...
Slicing syllables of the Capital S
Incisions by sorrowful scissors
Bleeding feeling you can see meaning The eyes are in sight but the sound is deaf The heart feels right as the mind swings left Sliced syllables cut my tongue on the S Precision by meaning I just want to cut it To bleed feeling so you can see my meaning I'm in your sight but I fall on your deaf(ness) My heart feels right my minds been left Left on this bleeding feeling I felt this poem © Zac Zion day 1 | 15 August 2011 short bio: An alte... Continue reading ...
| |
