would you?

Would you cry if I left earth and decided to stay in heaven
or wherever they chose to keep me?
Would it hurt to only see me in your dreams and seeing my arms hang from the sides of my body
knowing how perfect they once fit you,
how they once swallowed you
and trapped you in the depths of my bosom,
that you preferred to drown than to breathe?
How much would it hurt if you called for me and I never came
yet you hear the echoes of my tone behind every strangers voice, the sounds you once chose to ignore?
Would you cry for me if I left and never returned?
Would you weep for me if I wasn't here anymore?
Would your sun continue to shine?

I am not a Saint
I am just a girl who tastes heaven
every time your lips touch hers.

Not at all a god
just a girl who falls in love everyday
with every fragment of your soul.

Faraway from immortality
just a soul, who has risen from the dead,
everytime your eyes meet hers

“the point of it all”

Let you and I talk about that point,
retrace our hearts to that very second,
where you realised you desired me more than you fancied life,
that moment when you yielded your entirety  into the precariously shaky palms of my hands
knowing how capable I am of breaking you
the point that lived beyond faith
where you stood on the edge of my second chance.

12.12.12

12.12.12

Never to be seen again,

Never to be felt again,

Perhaps to slip a million minds

as quickly as death leaves its preys.

But I was here

I lived to tell the miraculous tale

Of life in this generation

 

 

You tell them

"Just be yourself"

yet you remain lost behind that filthy façade

So please tell me,

what’s better between your deceptions and shams?

possibly you've reached the equilibrium

between your false truths

maybe you are trapped in between

the threads of your unspeakable reality

Poor wanderers, if only they knew,

that your wisdom is as imaginary as the smile you wear

when you greet the worshippers,

every Sunday morning.

 

Lie to me

and confess your undying love

before my cracking heart

perhaps my decease will be more meaningless

than your rare truth

words haunt me at night

that i find myself writing my life story

in the middle of a dream

something not even my forefathers dared to try

her lips taste like whisky,

her heart beat cruises on the highway of regrets,

yet everything about her screams perfect.

though she is the legend of all druggies

she mysteriously is always sober at heart

and skilfully she drowns me in her affection

but whisky was never her favourite

Unrequited love is the price of falling in love,

a price we all have paid,

once upon a time.

LoveGlori at Moyo's Zoolake tomorrow night

I can't seem to grow weary of the LoveGlori blues and so can Nomonde. We seem to be more hung up than we were when we first saw them in February at Urban Zulu Roof Top. Every moment in their trance means restoration to my entire being. We went to see them at SABC Radio Park on Sunday and boy was I blown away, they have a bad habit of winning my heart over and over again and I know that I am not that weak. Each second in their midst is resurrection; every instance with them always leaves me blown away to ashes of utter joy. When in their presence I am not afraid to die because I know I will rise again to life owing to their melodies. They have become saviour to my ever so fickle soul.

 

I wondered what is it about them that makes me weak at the knees and leaves me begging for more. I, for a while was convinced that it was their beauty; it just had to be Nozuko's beauty that leaves me screaming "Abba Father" to my creator in worship.  Ato's smile was definitely the reason for Nomonde's death. That had to be it. We now knew the reasons for our fall and that made things a little clearer. Until I realized, even if Zuko had to cover herself in all rags of ugliness, she would still remain my compeller. Her beauty was not enough to have me in their audience in every of their events, something greater than a smile had to be responsible for this. Even if Ato stopped smiling, she still would command Momo to knees.

And then it hit me, as hard as it hit Momo that no beauty could have such a hold on either of us, beauty could not have such command, it was their voices, their angelic voices that leave us drowning in floods of joy, that leave us in a state of euphoria. It is humbling how alive they are on stage, how they calm the audience with their jazzy blues with just a pinch of comedy. The love they have for their craft would give sight to the blind and strength to the weary.

I will speak endlessly if I started to speak of their songs and how each and every jam seems to rub me up just the right way but I will speak nonetheless, just a little I will speak. How Ato sings "Ubuhle bakhe" makes me appreciate the kind of love I am in, "Call me" actually makes me realise just how needy and broken I actually am. The way Zuko sings "Ivili" is not of this world, the space I enter into when those lyrics escape from her lips cannot be of this generation. The passion that flows in Ato's eyes when she lets out "Te Amo" leaves me chanting with the heavens in thanksgiving for the creator of art that dwells in her soul and the seriousness that covers Zuko’s face when she sings “Again” just confirms that they mean business with their craft and with their hearts.

 

The melodies that these ladies have created cannot be known by me and Momo alone, it is a sermon for the whole universe to bask in. A lyrical sermon. Their music on SoundCloud brings zero justice to them; you must literally tan in their melodies; that will take you to the adventures of Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland, to actually say you have come to know the Christ of Art. Luckily for you, they will be performing at Moyo's Zoo lake tomorrow evening.

Go there and be jazzed away by their careless blues.

She is a fountain of metaphors
A buffet of adjectives and pronouns
but on most days she is just a verb

She is the alphabets in all the words I write,

The punctuation in all my verses,

and the breath in every pause.

you are the ink in my every pen, that's why I am unable to put you down...

She was as sweet as May,

Her smile was as bright as the winter sun,

but her anger was more vicious than thunder.

they talk about the tragedy of falling in and out of love

but they never speak of staying in the love on which we have fallen

the music that penetrates the rays of the early morning sun

The lessons we teach today and the battles of the previous night might not change our lives tomorrow, it might never change our lives at all but the next  generation will reap the fruits of your labour so aluta continua, whatever your struggle, your descendants will benefit from your blood and sweat.

I am just a girl who loves to write. My mother was not a painter nor was my father a sailor. I used to dream of being a singer, now I want to be a poet and sing the world away in blissful blues...

she

Her love

rose from the soles of my feet to the follicles of my hair

she worshipped my every limb

she always was a celebrant of mankind.

She speaks,

vomits words of restoration,

I have risen from the ashes seven times by virtue of her devotion,

she whispers words of strength,

the ghost whisperer

she is.

Her hands

snatched me out of Lucifer's cradle,

Satan’s fugitive I now am,

such melody came from the tips of her fingers,

as she pulled me out from captivity,

her birth must have been intended just for me,

Her skin,

such unblemished skin she has

my ocean of pleasure,

save me not I am drowning,

dip me in the depths of your bosom, I implore.

So I played hide and seek in the pores of her skin,

A pursuit to uncover all the secrets she hides from the world,

to take for myself the light she hoards in her soul,

until she yelled I am coming

to save you from the iniquities of your own flesh,

to release you from the chains of your yesterdays,

she said.

Her lips

Tasted like summer rain,

The drops from Jupiter,

A little more like the kisses from Adam’s wife,

She was more supernatural than real,

The reincarnation of Mother Mary

she is.

Her voice

soothing to all my aches,

mellow to all my blues,

my circadian medicament,

my humble compeller,

she is.

She,

She held the rays of the sun at the tip of her tongue,

Spoke in syllables of thunder to the rebels,

Clouds dared not whisper a word in her presence,

Her command was out of this world

That Gabriel fell at her watch

She once ordered the sun linger longer

so what is a mere man’s fall,

whose pride clearly preceded his faith?

Her aura

She serenaded the daredevils to slumber

Lit every tunnel with her smile

At the contours of her mouth sat hymns of hope

that she’d arbitrarily let escape to make the atheists to believe,

in him, the Great I am, that made their very existence possible.

But she wasn't what I was used to,

she clearly wasn't what I prayed for,

you see, I prayed for a lover,

to embrace my agony with her careless touches,

to be intoxicated in endless buckets of fear,

and my list ended there.

so I never banked on midnight nor day long conversations,

those all day Sunday sexual celebrations

that always left us hungry for more,

the gourmets of flesh we became,

I never banked on promises fulfilled,

Nor was reciprocated love a fan of mine, was so accustomed to unrequited affection,

But she let me lay on her bosom, though smothered in distress, drenched from the floods of tears escaping from my eyes; she let me in the depths of her soul

she clearly had a love only the gods could comprehend,

perhaps she too is a god hence inexplicable,

she surely was a different kind of a she,

she became my author of faith as I became the pump of liberation in her every vein,

something more like we were each other's life support,

but she wasn't my mother's cup of tea,

definitely not at all the girl next door,

she clearly had a love way out of my league,

she was the only girl who fell in love with my soul and all that makes my heart beat

a different kind of she.

©GayKindaLove 2012.12.01

She was broken in every alphabet of broke,

Like how the glass touched the ground
And became shards of something once worthy,
Like how the rain interrupted the melodies of the sun,
Like how my heart ached for yesterday.

She was pained in every rhyme of ache,

Like how the bride never made it down the aisle,
Like how her Mother's child died at birth,
Like how the leaves fell from the tree and left her bare,
Like how she never heard from the lover who went outside to smoke.

But she was beautiful,

In every syllable of beautiful,
Like how the rain made love to the leaves,
as the they fell from the tree
and collectively they made sweet melodies with the ground,
What a beautiful collaboration.

Though wrapped in utter distress,

She remained the most beautiful girl in the horizon,
Like how the sun graced every dawn,
and the moon sang at every dusk.

Though her agony preceded her happiness,

She tirelessly knelt on the corner of her bed at every midnight hour,
Clothed in her full armour of faith,
asking the gods, if not her creator, to remember her once more.

A collab with Jowey

Jowena Qwabe:

I placed my love in your hands, watched it dance on your palms as if the future was musical and told you? My love is for keeps. I should've told you don't ever leave, that my stars would bleed without you but even if I did, you would've thought I was just being romantic, just like the day I told you, a world without you? Is my greatest fear. Panic becomes me, my heart? Skipping too many beats but not enough that could aline with the moon and sun till I eclipse into yesterday, relive it knowing it is our last day. My voice would be softer and forever would still be real enough to manipulate into more echoes, we needed more echoes.

GayKindaLove:

We needed more echoes, maybe the sound of my tears would now lead you home, sprinting to the pits of my arms like you truly heard me whisper forever, and I would swallow you in my arms, you always were a perfect fit, fitting to my very being, perhaps the drops of my loneliness would hurry you to the sight of my eyes had I spoke louder the words I should have said when you still could hear, when I still could make you listen, maybe I should have sang louder the hymns of your praises when you felt un-pretty before my eyes, maybe, maybe then, you'd come home, haunted by the echoes of my affection.

Jowena Qwabe:

You were the greatest words God ever spoke to me, now your absence feels so much like his cold shoulder, my tears go hard. I lost my words in every verse I kept reading to make me stronger, make me understand why your heart was too weak to carry on, why I should be strong enough to move on. I can barely walk; I am drunk on pain, cursing at every shooting star, shooting at my soul... You are my only wish

GayKindaLove:

So I wished upon the star in your heart to give me my 3rd second chance, to redeem myself for the umpteenth time, maybe, maybe, I am a glutton for bad decisions that leave your eyes flooded with tears, maybe I'm difficult to love that I push you away to the arms of those who would pleasure in our fall so I weep to the heavens to lead you home, just this one time, I hail to the gods to send you my way, though it may be the last time but I, but I, I stutter at the mention of your name haunted by the cracks I left in your soul.

Jowena Qwabe:

Your soul the promise I always kept close to mine, till I broke into a half completed by you. So paint me a portrait to beautify our end and tell me how the colours taint the truth if they are so true. Tell me the heavens I dug into your sunrise where nothing but lies and I will accept our end, my tears will stop where your truth begins. I will strip you naked, for her to have, rip my name from your skin because you swear you are not mine, fitting oh so perfectly into my arms, you swear you are not mine... The truth dies in my arms, on your lips and when she kisses you? I pray she does not choke on it. Because you are mine but then again, one can live on a lie... I'm fine

GayKindaLove:

Though you have abandoned the house we built, I still say I'm fine, surely I can learn to live with a broken heart, surely the heavens are preparing a home for me, surely this is the death of me but what is death to a soul already dead, what is light to a soul that feeds in all that is dark? Surely I will be fine if I not already am. When the angel of the dead comes for me, I will be resurrected to a life for the dead.