Ndiphila iphupha

Ndihamba kwimi cangcatho yenyawo zakho

Ndibhula umbethe othe walala mhla ubusuku beza nentseni phezu kwama phupha akho

Ndikhupho dyakalashe, igusha ezithe zoyama ngamadomga ezisekelo othe wena wazibeka mhla wawusekho

Ndihlwayela imbewu  kwimiqolo owaye wayivula  iyivulela ikusasa lakho

Ndinyathela ngononophelo kulomhlaba ubuthathaka  othe wena wakhetha ukumilisela kuwo ingcambu zobuwena

Walakha kwedini madoks ikhaya lakho

Wathi wakugqiba wawuqamangela umlomo wakho ngezitsixo zovuyo

Wasingisa apho liphuma khona ukhozi njenge langa liyosithela ezintabeni

Wayifihla intlungu obukuyo

Wanditshikilela ngomphambili wakho  kuba ungafuni ndifumane amashwa aza nomva wakho

Wayibhala incwadini nto kasukani ndingakhange ndilubone  siba kwesakho isandla

Wamshiya umzila njengendoda elikronti kwelakwa xhosa usiko

Batsho bayiyizela abafazana

Oomakhulu bazijula ityali

 Amadoda avakala egqukrulekile ukuthi olunje ngawe baylifuna usana

Nditsho kwathatha esixekwekweni wanyikima mhla weva ukuba inqwelo yokufa izile uzokuthatha

Nto leyo yandishiya nebuza ityobeka ukuzondibuza kuba ifuna uzuza impendulo

Kwakutheni yamisela wena leqwelo yandishiya mna ndisa mjogise phezulu owam umnwe ukumisa

Ngokuba ngoku ndinyathela lomhlaba wawumele umnyathele

Ndiyafakisa ngabla lwimi lethu esasisandula ukulisebenzisa xa sasibhekisa kwelasemzini ulwimi

Ndiziva ingathi apha andinguye umi

Ngokuba kwakumele ibenguwe olapha  umile

Nditsho ukuba wayibonda le mbiza ungayazi ukuba iyokususwa ndim eziko

Ndijike ndiphake obona bomi wawubulwela ukubufumana

Kodwa nakancinci  ubungcamla

Mna mntu azange aqxhathalaze no xhathalaze buvele baziwela kwesam isandla

Nyani obu bom abunantethelo

Kodwa ndiyakuthembisa

Ndizakuliphila eliphupha lakho ndilijule esifubeni  ndilinike ibelwe eliphumu bisi lothando

Ill love you til death answers back with life

I could see the invisible seems that sewed her eye lashes permanently to her eye lids

With her iris momentarily flashing me to a trance like the camera resembling terms utilised by a psychologist when practicing hypnosis to a patient

The situation that she manacled me in

 Departed me in the question marked borders of wonder

Her humbleness was down to the ground by the way she served me with her affection

I would at times see the envy that the dust particles portrayed towards her

Her steps brought along the beauty that dripped from her chest on her left side where her heart was rooted by her fashioner

She head a facial image that was an exterior display of what existed in her interiors

So with her you wouldn’t say that the outer beauty is deceiving

Her physique was a complement to the artistic abilities of the potter that caused me to fall asleep so he could extract my rib

And implant it to her

The incompleteness of my ribs find their completion when my ways and hers converges

She is a true partner, who laid flatly open her ears to the problems that mutilated me continuously

Her attention mitigated their severity

She is the reason why Ill be ululate eternally at Christ feet

Because she is a confirmation that the Godly given gifts do last

 Death can snatch her away from the palm of my love

Feed her with the pitch-blackness that its heart is founded upon

But my faith and Love will make it regret its decision of taking her away from me

As I would torment it greatly before God with prayers that pull to life the desire of missing her

My better half

Like a founded item being returned to its rightful owner

That is how she shall be brought back to me  

Present/past?

Engulfed in the modern present

Where the primitive ways have substantially been deteriorated

No matter how we maneuver to stitch back this torn threads

Where a needle has journey

It’s amazing how it departs distinct traits

Even your eyeing magnifiers would be of an inappropriate use in this scenario

The pothole shaped seems would be insultingly screaming at your iris’s at a close distance that you would feel your eyeing pastures invaded

Modernism has confined us in this cocoon

Like caterpillars at a transition of being butterfly’s

But what are groomed into being?

Our efforts of remaining harnessed to the antique ways of existing are producing no fruit

It’s like quenching a thirst of a man who’s been in the of wilderness of Kalahari with a spoon filled water drop

Your Samaritan good deeds are an increment to the severity of this pain

Yes you might have your Mona Lisa portrait graphited beautifully on your bedroom walls

Your grand mothers and fathers pictures plucked at the chest of your closet door, greeting you when ever you open it

And your infancy pictures constituting the first page of your memory album where your trusted feet were your knees and hands

But

Your longing of the past can be satisfied by nothing but the present

Through change only occurs inwardly

The outward appearance is just a barrier that one needs to get past

So to arrive at the fertile land of the heart and start scattering a seed that is certain to offer a harvest

The art of existing is better characterized by eras

And the scribbler of it all has been so adroit fully able that he conceived you in his senses

And blew you with a command to exist

To expand

And fill the whole earth

To complement it all he positioned you in the present

UNTITLED

Complement from a heart that adores
 Is is so sincere
heart poundering
causing the victim to feel like a God
These praises are sent on a chilly weather
with the breeze being a transport.
The poet is motivated
because resources protrude fourth
the labour is at his hands.

He's departed toying around circles of creativity
building castles
ocharstrating soldiers
to chauffer his lamentated princess.
With words like ponds which got deep ends
he strives to let sight that she's apreciated.

Unlike the other goddesse's saying that their beauty is understated
but not her she won't be caught in that spot not even a second,
with a submissive heart he choose's to be a servant,
with a beurocratic stature he will cast away her devils.
With sympathy to her
he will be that diary which got her hell confined,
trates of tears on her face
narrate the blizzards they passed together.

She encircles his ireland with attractivesness that rivals the best that man can create,
with classy walks she resembles
the value of a benze.
when she passes by any man
she ressurects the poetry that is not utilised
caged with wild motives but
anxiously requiring to fly.

Indeed her source of concievement
does bare good fruit
he was left wishing couldnt every girl be a daughter to the tree of her concievement.
because she needed not beauticians to give her beauty
her originality was already a complement. 

IT IS

It is the sound of a tambourine played by nature on this cliff
Ascending on a rapid pace with melodical notes
stealing ears that do not realy know their delight.

It is that antique guitar
which its appearance may not be appertising but
what is confined in its brass strings
let go of arrows aimed in our misery's
separating us from the existance of grief.

cause the first being resided in the gardens of abundant peace
the potter which call him fourth on the ground
utilised the same skill even to us.
If we could share the same conceivement
couldnt we be entitled to his blessings.

It is the beat of a drum
played by an adroitful player
which is meant to motivate these feet
that stomp the ground
to raise fumes of dust
making nogqawuse proud.
siso kanye isingqi sakwaphalo.

Ressurecting not our ancestores ghostly characters
but that which was moistly stuck on their tongues
Ubuntu.

It is that root that was born not of a seed
but was sucked on the bossom of an african woman
who's independency forbides her from being two minded
who's afflictions force her to be a man for her offsprings.

It is that which it is
and cannot be that which is not.

To the FAM

As various voices presented on a single mic
Giving birth to one solid sound
through speakers near a listener passing by...
We are one on this.

As dread locks rooted on a single head
we come in different heights and different ways
Even though we stil regard this head as our primary base.

The artisans of words
with the labour of our heads portraide through carfts that i call notions and thoughts,
that never seem to fill to the brim
 this ocean that somehow seems to have a lick.

my unaudible gratitudes i present as a lament to its lick
because through it
 you and i were given an opportunity to exist.

The frequent drops narrate how youe way and mines converged
in this wilderness of words
like deserts with their plenty sands.

We indeed have got one mind but with different thoughts
and somehow we got magneted into being one,
 you would swear that we were particles that were hapazardly scattered.

"She dont know that she makes makes me feel like this"

SHE COPMLETES ME

LIKE A STRAIGHT LINE TAKING OFF FROM 0 DEGEERS OF A CURTASIAN PLANE, PROGESSING TO FINISH A CIRCLE ON 360

THAT LINE WHICH MY HEART KEEP SKIPING ON WHEN EVER IT JUMPS FOR A BEAT

THAT FACTOR WHICH CAUSES ME TO BEAM WITH A YOUTHFUL SMILE

UNSACASTICALY REALISING THE LIVELYNESS WHICH CAVES MY RIBS

Each second that passes continuing with time

SHE IS THAT RAY THAT Escaped FROM THE SCENTRE OF THE SUN

WILLINGLY NARATING, THE FRUITFULNESS OF THE UTERUS THAT KEPT IT FOR 36 WEEKS

HER CUDDLE I PREFER AS IT PRISON

 my “prison”

Giving me liberty that suppases my argumentative reason

Attaching me to her personality more than her outer appearance

Like infants caught on their bellies by umbilical cords

She recites a story that is constantly settled on a climax

I just keep eagering for more