Do you hate me that much? Do you hate me that you had to destroy me? I was supposed to step into the human world through you.… Read more “THE LETTER OF AN ABORTED CHILD”
I received a letter from heaven
accounting on my mind’s haven.
I was expecting rows of words
like she’s an angel with no faults.
But instead, all I could hear was…
She’s cracked, like splits
she’s broken and shattered
She’s destroyed, like a mother’s heart
she is an unpredictable splinter
No one knows she’s fractured.
These words pierce my heart like nails
that I wished I was nailed to the cross with
Jesus, but instead Osama Bin Ladin got nailed
six feet under the ground.
Truly I’m cracked waiting to be mended,
I’m broken like missing puzzles,
I’m destroyed both in and out.
I’m an uncertain splinter.
No one knows I’m fractured.
My biggest fears are my own feelings, especially the “big three”: solitariness, impuissance and insignificance. Although we all feel them at times, these are only delusory fantasy… Read more “WOLFIE(short story)”
Originally posted on Into The Pudding:
‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is…
She’s cracked, like splits she’s smashed and shattered She’s broken, like a mother’s heart↓ she is an unpredictable splinter No one knows she’s fractured. by shalom☺
My skin is magical you see, for i am a special kind of breed. My skin is enchanted you see, for i am a fairytale forest. My… Read more “This boastful believer”
Have you ever walked among other colours and felt ashamed? Have you ever being pointed at just because you are black? Yes, I’ve been pointed at just because of my skin colour and my cotton hair. But No, I’ve never felt ashamed. I mean why will I be ashamed when I know there are people dying and tanning to get my skin colour. Our Black heritage… But I’m ashamed of women who call themselves light skinned formed with bleaches. I’m ashamed of so called black beauties who turn down their heritage with nude pictures I’m proud of natural light skinned women who call themselves black Africans. But black Africans women are angry, angry because they define us. They define us by our skin colour, our hair, our lips, our body and our culture. But they are forgetting that even the night embraces our colour. Black is sweet Black is royal Black is golden but most of all, Black is beautiful. Your black skin is what makes you yourself. My black skin is what makes me myself. Like a dolphin, we are graceful, powerful and compassionate. This is to all beautiful soul out there.
Africa… The corners of the earth echoes Africa The deepest warmth of the night screeches Africa The drums beat The waist shakes relentlessly as the beads rattle. The foot moves and tap the earth to the rhythm of Africa. The name Africa rolls off the stranger’s tongue like a melody… But Africa why? Why Africa? Why have we forgotten our mother’s land? The land where cultures are displayed like colorful beads full of pearls We have we turned our back on Africa We have lost the dignity of Africa and embraced xenophobia We have turned our back on ourselves but we are forgetting that we can’t be by ourselves. We have a legacy to uphold a dignity to regain And a land to claim You seem to have forgotten the lives laid down for our freedom. The innocent bloods flowing down the streams and valleys.… Read more “Africa”
Everyday we live our lives in a shell but we don’t tell. The only visitors we have is ourselves. What are my fears if you may ask?… Read more “Fears”