First blog post

This is the post excerpt.


this is my very first post, as the title says. i will mainly be posting things that i write and believe are worth your time. i will not be fixed on a specific genre, it will mostly be what i think a lot of people can relate to. i hope you enjoy my “song of the week” segment. stay tuned!

First blog posttumblr_nv0o4ey0hb1rhphwmo1_500

Mama Africa

Today I will tell you about MAMA AFRICA

and all that she embodies

She is almighty and not a copy

Don’t dare to compare her to the western culture

The only west I see

Is when Her body moves just like the sea

Bodacious, mountainous, there is none like thee

The African sun just like her eyes

Glistens so bright on the river Nile

She carries peaks that never run dry

High or low she never disappoints

Sahara or Kilimanjaro

Make your pick and she will show

Her heartbeat roars and thumps like a drum

And it will do anything but make you numb

It will fill you up like the waves within it

You’ll dance and shake to the rhythm

Black and white there is no division

The rhythm will bring in, the people

It’s the Africa in me

that keeps me reading poetry deep into the night

and keeps my passion alive

It’s the Africa in me

that has taught me how to love

Love from right here and from above

It’s the Africa in me

that has carried me

from my first baby breath

and will support me to my very last.

I am truly a child born of Africa.

love & hate

This girl has seen more than she can handle,
Day by day she’s reduced to nothing, like a burning candle.
Her life as dark as the bruises she has seen,
But she remains bright
She’s convinced she can rise like the moon light

She finds comfort in the warmth of a palm
And from a heartbeat she sings and she hums
With relief she falls into open arms

She has been longing for something else
Something she can’t get from herself
But later realizes she has fallen into a trap
Like skin the palms are exposed and begin to grab
Around her neck they wrap

This girl as naive as most
Hums to a beat but not like before
She hears thumps and then a roar
Reminded of what she has seen
In her recurring dream
She hits the floor

Little girl gets love but never from within
She’s suffocated by the arms she found warmth in
With no options she chooses to run
Because her worst nightmare has now begun

Young girl do not lament in darkness
All arms are not a harness
Believe in Him up above
And please, do not give up on love.

from victim to victor.

my apologies for the misunderstanding or the lack there of, from myself and any woman who has survived sexual assault.

all i know is i’m sorry,
i’m sorry the hem of my skirt
is an invitation for you to blurt
all that makes me feel like dirt,

i’m sorry i acted like your slurred words were unheard,
because they made me feel like my comfort was never preferred.
as you chauffeured me,
i hoped ignoring you would free me from your verbal arrest,

i’m sorry my eyes sent a message,
and opened up a physical passage
that made every no i screamed a yes,
and now my body i no longer possess.

i’m sorry i believed these lies,
that the right to my body is a social disguise
based on the notion that a man has a right to anything in his eyes.

i’m sorry i didn’t get the memo,
that if i drink too much i go from being a woman to being your hoe.

i’m sorry if my apology isn’t coming off entirely too sincere
so let me break it down and make it a bit more clear.

this apology is a symptom of a social disease,
seen from the street just outside your house to completely public bus stations.

with outbreaks of slut-shaming and victim blaming,
there is no cure in sight,
under this current system of patriarchy.

if a person has been raped,
look for the rapist
and not the reason.

i wrap myself around myself to remember who i am,
because who i’m not is embedded so deep
and now i’m completely lost.



light in the shadows.

finally trying to face my demons,
pay the piper They say,
the only person i owe is me.
i need to be free,
i need to think,
i need to speak,
i need to feel pain,
i need someone to blame.

what we had was real,
at least that’s what i thought.
maybe real is something for you that it isn’t for me,
maybe we were real but something happened that i didn’t see,
maybe i hoped for something you couldn’t be, for me.

i thought we had open lines of communication,
i thought there was something wrong that you would mention,
but that’s the problem; i always assume and never take action.

i am human,
i build bridges, read books,
and hold grudges.
i love you, that’s no secret,
you messed up and only i see it.
our bridge collapsed,
but in my dreams it relapsed
and i try to forget.

i know i pushed you away,
but that was the only way,
for me to heal,
to see the real,
and now i kneel.

i pray i find healing in seeing you,
because right now it hurts to know you’re happy without me
unfazed, i’m simply erased.

i pray i stop hoping you’ll come back.
i set you free and you aren’t a boomerang.
They say if it comes back to you it’s yours, but you never came back.
with understanding here i lack,
They have crossed the line,
does that mean you were never mine?

and if a fallen bridge is all i remember,
i pray it reminds me of what we had,
and shows me more than just a silhouette.




r.i.p. nkuku

when you opened your eyes to look at me,
i had hoped you would know who i am,
reminded of the great queen you groomed me to be,
the wind beneath your wings.

you were loving, caring and old,
we always invaded your humble abode.
there was something about an unmanageable three generations in one room,
that made history seem tangible.

her frail fingers casually carried 71 years of her life,
they tell stories.
her index finger crookedly points me down memory lane,
to a time.

a time when two piece meal ya hungry lion was a myth,
but she bought it for herself and gave it all to me.
a time when her house burnt down,
but old lady nonetheless bent down,
to water every brick that was laid and laid,
a home rebuilt.

a time when i constantly had to pause the dvd,
to explain why the man on the tv,
was running towards us.

nkuku your strength will not be forgotten.
like a seed that germinates,
you have grown and dispersed many more seeds.

we are not created or destroyed,
we are vessels shifted and restored,
what we are is given to us,
death does not come because the body is too exhausted to exist,
it comes because the greatness inside can only be contained for so long,
i will not cry for you,
because you are not dead,
you have passed on.

as i witnessed your years of strength,
i understood what life really meant,
that wrinkles are worth more than a diamond could ever be,
that the heavens have gained an angel,
and free at last you are free.

but when tomorrow starts without you,
we will try to understand,
that an angel came and called your name,
and took you by the hand.



listen here girl in the mirror,
stop with the envy,
stop with the self loath,
stop feeling ugly,
because you are more than enough.

you are not a t-shirt missing a price tag,
you don’t have to be tangled in a man’s hand,
give a shit about yourself, you are complete.

remember what you were taught,
what your body is supposed to look like,
mommy they call me skinny winnie
“ja phaletšhe le nama”
mommy they call me humpty dumpty
“shut up and go run”

we find some middle ground and say slim thick,
wtf are we saying?
“you are goals”
what game are we playing,
and i need to know who am i slaying?
why can’t i just be me?

the word perfect should not exist,
you don’t need a description to feel alive,
“you look like my future wife” boy bye,
some people you can’t put a label on,
because one moment you are here and then you are gone.

i don’t have a perfect life i have a life,
i am not waiting patiently for my demise,
i am a walking testament and not a disguise.