drift

Drift Away
Down the river
Towards the sea
Hopelessly I float Into obscurity
Thee anchor of love
That once held me
Has loosed its grip
And silently
I drift away.

Faith

My prayers get jumbled in my mind

Sometimes my mind stands still

Or I just plain don't listen when,

He tells me of His will.But I know that when I need Him most,

He's there with open arms,

Forgiving me for all my sins

And keeping me from harm.

He guides me gently day by day

And gives me graces in His own way.

But I still need to listen more

When He knocks upon my door.

To when He whispers into my mind

Revealing to me, His works so kind.

I know He loves me deep inside

And from Him I cannot hide.

From birth to death,

He'll be with me

Even though I cannot see.

just know that His promises are true.

That's Faith. I believe. Don't you?

fear find no place here

our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate
our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure
it is our light not our darkness that most frightens us
we were all meant to shine as children do
its not just in some of us
its in everyone
your playing small does not serve the world
theres nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people wont feel insecure around you
as we are liberated from our own fear
our presence automatically liberates others

NoW PeoPLE

A hip non-conformist who truly stands for his/her beliefs - you are out to make a difference in this world, and you have a realistic chance of success. You have always been self-driven and derive your inspiration from those close to you. Ambitious - and why shouldn't you be - the sky is the limit for you

hang up

sighs upon sighs and time after time spent listening to your voice on the telephone line. somewhere between my mouth and your ears these words fall apart. and the distance that separates us makes me want to wake up tomorrow, because that's one day closer to waking up next to you. the good byes are never final, and we both regret to say them, despite how near the hourhand draws to dawn. i wish i could chart the moments we speak into a constellation and throw them into the night sky, where we both can look and know the feeling is mutual, hearts should change with time.

The L Word

Here I am

Naked

to my fears and failures

But I know this is true...

Jesus wept for me and for you.

forget the politics.

Nobody is perfect.

one Day I'll Sing it ToO

There was a boy

A very strange enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far, very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise

Was he

And then one day

A magic day he passed my way

And while we spoke of many things,

fools and kings

This he said to me

"The greatest thing

You'll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved

In return"

Pretty words that I like to hear

All the things Ive done before this

They dont mean a thing

And all the words spoken before this

Wont be said again

Suddenly so much of me has

No need 2 pretend

Cause theres nothin like the truth

To bring her back to u

And everyone Ive met before this

Aint seen me with u

Youre the only one who knows what I go through

Sometime u feel it even more than me

And I dont know how I ever got by without u

Theres nothing like the truth

And Ive got nothin left 2 lose

And every night I thank the universe that I found u

And I dont have 2 wonder

What the world thinks about me

I know youre in my corner

Youre always surrounding me

With your love

And if we all explode

See we would never know

But I just hope the pieces of my soul

Reach out 2 u

2 find my angel

Cliff Razor

I stand at the edge

Tipping over

Sipping the rush of fear

Through my eyes as I stare

into the distant danger

that lies at the bottom of my heart

The edge so sharp whistles

agaisnt the wind you breath into my ears

when you speak

I am consumed by thoughts

of fears once felt

at the exchange of risk for injury

I stand at the edge

peering over at the vastness

of God's creation

and his masterful pieces of me

I stand fearful and fearless

I stand on the line not beyond or before

I lie on the flatness of the cutting egde

I bleed fear onto the cliff of risk

I stand on the cliff razor of my heart

when you stare into my dark soul

and still speak to say you love me

Jack and his mistress: The slave

When we squint back into the days of our forefathers there is a story that has been told and told again.

There is a story about Jack and Azania.

Jack was a man and Azania was his slave.

Jack had many servants and many more slaves.

He came

She followed

He saw

She saw too

He came once more

She followed his trail

He took Azania on a voyage across the Atlantic sea

She built a sea of ships with her bare hands

He showed Azania how super powerful he was

She discovered that she made Jack super powerful

He gave Azania many names and put her into many more boxes

She took her many names and stood proud as an

animal ready to pounce on whomever beckoned a tongue

to call her by it

He stripped Azania from her roots and taught her to sing like birds and not beasts

She whistled whispers to the trees and howled to the

moon by night

He whipped Azania sometimes

She is reminded of what Jack did by the scars that line

her back

He punished her for breathing too much or too little when she bent her back to serve him and his guests

She breathes for no man but herself but she still breaks her

back serving him, his guests and her own

He let them come after he came too

She is raped by him and them and her brothers

He covered her in tar

She covers herself in tar for his pleasure and his pennies

He hung her from his trees to display her strength as a beast and a beauty

She hangs herself because she sees no beauty in the beast

of life

He burnt her alive

She burns him in her dreams and nightmares

He crucified her over and over in the name of his power

She prays to his saviour every day

Banishing Thorns

Walking so freely and fearlessly through the replicas of Eden in our imaginations. Smelling the scent of all the exotic flowers of the world. See how they blossom to seemingly smile at you, look at you, be with you. Life follows after you with the breeze that whistles away the tunes of yesterdays long lost. Buried beneath your feet is history in secrecy. Poison saturates the defenses of the beauty. Creatures crawl relaxed and yet aware of you. Serpents hiss and birds do sing. It's all God's creation and you see how it is a majestic and lovely thing. And you feel the moist earth covered in a carpet of grass. Thick and healthy, green and shiny grass that stretches ahead as far as the naked eye can see in daylight. The clouds seem to swell and the sun shines as well. Laughter cackles through the bush. Music chimes in the woods. Skin is alive with the touch of water and oil. Voices echo in the caves behind cascading waterfalls. The heel touches the stone and the toes dig in the soil and the arch of your sole seems to snap as a thorn pricks you back into reality where it is natural to wear shoes. Reality, where it is natural to be unnatural. Thorns prick you just when you least expect them so you avoid them and never feel the beauty of Edens that we were banished from.

Sad Sweet

Sadness leave this place and take me to eternity. Take me to an eternity of beautiful smiles and gentle friendly waves. Waves of goodbye and hello that have washed onto the shore of your life and mine. Life so continuous, continuously it goes on and it is ongoing like a lalaby to a baby on a rocking chair in the lap of a mother. Continuously going and ongoing in the liquid momentum that fluidly fills the emptiness of my heart. My heart that is now full of sadness. Sadness, come away from this place. This place in my heart where I rest only in death. Death, where I found you and felt you kill and take away from this heart of mine. Mine is the life where sadness and happiness romance each other to make pleasant memories. Aching memories of this life make me feel alive before they take me away to death where even memories of sadness will not matter. Matter now, oh Sadness, but matter no more than you will when I am gone with you. You be happy after your sadness but do not let sadness stay too long.

Purple Incense

Make me numb

Take me away

freeze my thoughts

Preserve my mind

Fly with me

Make me numb

Comfort zones

I am so comfortable.

I am comfortable enough to keep showing you love. I am not so comfortable with making you feel uncomfortable. I am not so comfortable that I would knowingly give you reason to ask and tell me, "Why, Baby, why don't you call me anymore?"

I am so comfortable.

I am comfortable enough to love loving you instead of getteing over you.

I am comfortable in you with you, not without you.

I am comfortable with the idea of getting comfortable with you.

I want to comfort you and be with you. I shall never discomfort you.

I want you. I'm comfortable only when I'm with you.

How is it then, that when you are comfortable, you're happy

to leave me when you go have beers with the boys and flirt with the

girls? How is it then, that you see no need to open the door for me, hold

me and walk with me for hours like we used to do?

Did you say you got comfortable?

crush

A crush: the feeling you experience when you know you cannot have someone but you can be with them.

Being around them, whether they notice or not, has an intense effect on you: Your palms sweat; Your eyes glisten; Your heart races; Your mouth dries up.

It feels like the world is not real and you see purple clay in the earth; reddish navy nights and redder moons. You see sights that can be found but they seem totally unreal.

Yet, they are real and they are so real

that they crush into you.

You have a crush on someone you love.

That person still gives you butterflies.

Permanent butterflies.

You have have a crush on someone that you love.

Sounds

i am a lover of sounds

mouthed words

sounds sung

soothing

soothing the rhythm in the beat of your sound on repeat

repeat repeat the beat

i am a lover of sounds

sounds that break through the ground

it is ground breaking

only because we hear it

hear it

but even the deaf love sound that vibrates passed the quiet stiffened ear

the sound that is picked up by the sense of touch

touching you through the air

the touch of sound

the sound of touch

it is touching to thought

i am a lover of sounds

sounds of a lover

from one to another

Something New. Again.

Something new has begun in me:

The new age of life at the edge of the teenage cliff;

The time to fly.

The prick of the writing instrument on paper has made its mark in me. The point of my writing tool has become me. I write with the desire to turn living thought into a message that will come alive and walk off the page. I do not write to please people.

I do not write to satisfy the laws of grammar.

I simply write because I want to re-feel my feelings at random. I write to feel and to stop feeling. I write to pour out my soul in ink and come back to drink the thinking ink of myself.

I've fallen in love. I've fallen for words. Agian.

The lover of my soul. My soul loving lover.

iN tHe sTiLL oF thE niGhT

bluebison.net

Mother

I can hear the tears in your voice

when you speak and sigh.

You cry with your voice.

You, Mother, are so tuned
to me and I to you that even now,

as you weep, I can feel your pain.

I know your tears as you know me. So deeply, I lay in your womb, as you cried yourself to sleep. I knew these tears even when I could not see you. I did not need to see so that I might feel you cry.

Your tears tore through my brightest smiles as I nestled in your nest.

Smiles of naivety

and its happiness:

Happiness so unknown, undoubting, and so sure.

So sure was this happiness, that your voice

proved to be like a blade sharpened to cut threw me.

You cut threw my happiness.

I felt each cry, Mother.

I felt you smile into my heart

with a heart of content peace.

I smiled inside you Mother, when you smiled out.

I smiled, Mana.

But even now, as I smile my own smile,

I can feel your cry.

Even when, now the cord that once bound us is broken.

I cry with you, Ma, I sigh along with you and I weep.

Dear Sweetness

Sweetness, you are a poison that infects.

Contagious, you are transmitted

in every smile, every blush and every wink that I receive from you.

Yes, you are absorbed into my skin through its very pores

when you seep, sink, and stir into my soul.

You sweeten, even, the very salt of my being.

Sweetness, I wish to wake with you.

I wish to wake up with you on the puffy pillows

of feathers that make up the cushion of my love.

Sweetness, do you not wish we could wake up together?

Every morning?

I wish to see you, Sweetness.

I wish to wrap you up in the envelope of my heart.

Home away from home

I am imprisoned

This is no home

It is not a home to me

I walk upon foreign land

I feel alien to all the people here

I am alienated and singled out

for being different or "eccentric"

I am not blind

but I do not see how we relate

I can see

but I am blind to what you call family

YOU are family

but I am alien

I am imprisoned

My spirit wishes to breath

but I am drowning in a sea of stone

So cold

Freezing my spirit

Suffocating my soul

I cannot fight

what they call family

I am imprisoned

In a sea of stone

Drowning

Dying.

Cold thought

Frozen and preserved

Preservation bites frost into the warmth of my blood

It ices my thoughts into blood clots

Thoughts clot the passages and blot out the messages from my mind

It is confined and imprisoned in the ice cube

Dying in the vein-train of thought

that is trained and taught

Owesifazane waphambuka

Ngikhohlisiwe.

Ngigwetshwe kuze kube phakade

Kodwa ngikhohlisiwe.

Mina, siqu sami, nginguSiqalekiso.

Ngihamba umhlaba nje, ngiyisono

Mina, muntu owesifazane.

Ngoba ngalandela emva kwakho

Ngoba ngibunjwe emva kwakho

Ngaphutha phambi kwakho,

Awukhohlisiwe wena,

Awuphambukile wena.

Ngikhohlisiwe.

Ngigwetshwe kuze kube phakade

Kodwa ngikhohlisiwe.

Akusho lutho ukuthi awusiye uAdam.

Akusho lutho ukuthi angisiye uEva.

Okubalulekile ukuthi

Mina, siqu sami, nginguSiqalekiso.

Ukuba umuntu owesifazane,

Ukuba umuntu owesimame

Kuyisiqalekiso sami

Kanye nesono sami.

Konakele ngami.

Owami umlomo

awufundisi,

awukhulumi.

Eyami inqondo

ayiqondile

ayiqondisi

ayiqondeki.

Ngikhohlisiwe.

Ngigwetshwe kuze kube phakade

Kodwa ngikhohlisiwe.

Ngiqanjwe

unomaqhinga

unomkhuba

uPhambukile kuze kube phakade

Kodwa ngikhohlisiwe.

Strange Love

The love of a stranger is hard to find

But this strange love is not for any mind.

To love because you need.

To need because you love.

Strange love!

That's the kind

That leaves you breathless and blind.

To fall in love.

To love to fall.

Your stranger is out there

loving you

the kiss

The kiss that you breath when I breath so we breath.
The kiss that played, stayed, prayed and stained upon these lips.

It is the kiss

of the serpent’s hiss

of his witness to weakness

‘Tis the kiss that hypnotized and victimized me.

Surprised me

‘Tis the kiss that took me and shook me
That time
that tick
that tock
that stopped,
spun

and stood still
as I feel. So real.
The kiss where you and I parted lips to pray
as palms closed in prayer do
saying, “Father forgive our sins,”
as we close our eyes and further sin begins

The kiss that burned a virgin Mary singing gospel in church
and turned her to the devil Lucifer
to lick the wounds of her hurts

'Tis the kiss of a lover.
No other,
but your whispered kiss
that blew my thoughts back
into the gaping mouth of my mind
When, as if you took them from me,
you sold me my own words
and I bought your heart
with my heart
and you said,
“I love you,” at the start of this kiss.

The part that I missed
was the part where you kissed
another lover
And I with this kiss,
married a polygamist.

Confronting

My mind has been forcefully raped.

Forcefully Entered.

Penetrated.

The venerated virgin mind

pushed and pulled over to the edge,

torn through,

bluntly broadened

and beaten out of conformed thought

leaving an open gaping gash.

A slash.

A cut.

A wound.

It will heal into the scars

of lessons learned.

My Connoisseur

he appreciates me in him

he values me highly enough to recognize and like the qualities of himself in me

and me in himself

he understands something about himself in me

that I cannot understand in me

and he cannot understand in himself

but in each other we understand fully

he understands fully the meaning and significance of my every situation

and I too understand of him...he feels gratitude

he is grateful for me as I am grateful for him

he acknowledges something in me and in himself

he accepts that it is valid

that he is in me what i am in him

he gains in value

as I gain in value when we gain from each other

he increases in value, especially over time

as he matures and i mature

so we mature within each other

to become finer, richer, bolder makes of each other witin each other

he is the expert

an expert in an area of the fine art of being with me

without touching seeing hearing smelling or tasting

he does all this by simply believing in me

he is with discriminating taste in such a specialty

the French call it connoistre, to "know" someone so well, so deeply, so richly

and in Latin cognoscere, the "ability to acquire knowledge":

the mental faculty or process of acquiring knowledge by the use of reasoning, intuition, or perception

he reasons me

he intuites me

he percevies me

he is my very own reflection

my mirror in the wall

my connoisseur

Do Not Dance

Don’t dance:
The rule that bound a good woman.
A woman married (bound) to a man.

A man who danced…
Around tables
With any table-dancing thing
That was called less…
Of a woman
Because she was free.

Free from the seal of virginity,
She embraces her nudity:
Her liberty.

Free to be
With the men who danced…
Around tables
Around her tables
As she chose her next conquest,
The men conquered her:
Making her un-marriable
And setting her free.

Free from the rules:
That bound a (bad) good woman;
Bound her feet together.
Free from the rules
That were bound and unbound
By a man who danced…
Then said,
“Don’t dance.”
Don’t dance

Staying on the green

I am stuck in a colourful village garden trying to find out exactly what it is that I am meant to be doing with my little one-in-humanity life. I have just been born into this new world of reality. The (hyper)real world where dogs eat dogs? Or do they just really bite? This world where virginity holds no value in the face of my peers except an attitude that perhaps virginity and anything that challenges one’s own morality is maintained by those who believe they are “holier than thou”. I have made myself very familiar with this world where “everything that is meant to be bad makes so many people feel so good and all the things they tell us not to do are exactly what we would.” The world where there’s a cry for rebellion! Every rule is meant to be broken. It is so hard to see right from wrong, white from grey and grey from black.
My life used to be about taking care of Dad, cleaning up after my brother and getting my head around school. A world so small and yet so big for my fourteen-year-old self who had no idea what life had coming for me. Now I am studying how far black I am and what makes me a woman in the ethics of identity and reading the letters of Timothy to find that God would have me be silent and humble and promises my salvation in my womb, my faith and my holiness. I seem to be chasing the elusive in an attempt to find the answers. Why must they evade me so? Love? Lust? Identity? Me and what I am against the contrasting context of the world as I know it?
It is easy to drown in the muddy dirt of all the questions and answers that the world will give as a guide. I have come out coughing up filth myself. It is inevitable to struggle in the swamp of it when the innocence and naivety that once held you like a baby to a breast, slips away when you are “not 12 years old anymore”. You just grow up. You live. You are alive.
This real life of mine has taken on another colourful reality and I am contemplating what life will be like after 20. I don’t know if I want to be “17 again”. It is a long and muddy road through being a teenager. It is still quite dusty even now. Looking behind me, I see how my life has been decorated with flowers of accomplishment, around the mud puddles of pain and the pools of tears that still turn the dust to mud and waters my flowers to bud.
There are flowers though and patches of green in this ugly place. I find them and they find me. It is the vicious cycle that is also the village garden.

A defining moment

I was still blank in disbelief. My mind was in disorder. I went from confused to disbelieving within seconds. It just could not be. This wasn’t happening to me. I felt sick to the stomach with panic. My stomach had knots in it and the acid bitterness rising in my throat filled my nostrils making them burn. The sourness in my mouth seemed unbearable. I could hardly breathe. My body was trembling. I wanted to ask whether I had heard correctly but I couldn’t bring myself to formulate any words as the questions came flooding into mind. My thoughts were so overwhelming at that point that even I couldn’t comprehend them. I could see my brother crying in my uncle’s arms but I seemed to hear nothing for that moment. My whole body seemed separated from my mind. Even I felt distant from myself. I didn’t want to be in my own skin. I didn’t want to be experiencing what was already happening to me. I just sat there vacantly glaring at my family weeping.

Darkness had fallen over me. A shadow was cast on my thoughts. I was recovering from my disbelief. Gathering my strength, I focussed on my uncle. Some how comforting myself with the idea that maybe I had interpreted all this incorrectly. “Sorry. Could you repeat what you just said?” I wished the earth could swallow me up because he gave me this sorrowful look of pity and I felt the comfort of uncertainty crumble as the shock seemed to freeze the blood in my eyes as they itched with the burn of tears. The silence returned. How could this be? How could this be happening to me? Why? Why now? The questions seemed to fade into infinite oblivion. I became a victim to my body’s reaction. I cried. I cried because I realised how terrible the truth really was. I started to wonder what would become of my life. Feeling empty and distraught, all I could manage to do was cry. The pain was so severe. I couldn’t bring myself out of it until my eyes dried. I couldn’t cry anymore. Sitting there waiting for my mind to clear up, I rubbed my swollen eyes and looked up and saw the rest of my family.

“Dad has left us,” he said one last time. It came as no shock when he said it for the third time. There was a thickness in the air of the room. My hearing had improved and I was suddenly aware of how quiet everyone was as they watched me in pity. There was a feeling of loneliness even though so many members of the family sat next to me on my bed. None of them could even touch me although their hands were on my skin. I could not feel them. Numbness went through me as I glared through my eye sockets as if peeping through the scopes of another child’s eyes. I wasn’t there. I was physically intact but somehow I didn’t feel like I was there.