I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because,
Failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause.
I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all,
So I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak,
Just because I wasn’t mild and meek.
Challenging every obstacle placed in my way,
And all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told,
I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold.
Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes,
I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed.
To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail.
With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day,
Success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
The Simple Pen
I am but a simple man with pen in hand
To cut open a slice of universe with verse
And with the ink
Let it bleed not red
It flows instead with mortal colors
Over a life well spent
What is left over
We drink this in a cup
Pour more to fill it up
But little at a time
Too much reality can cloud your mind
Said the simple man with bleeding pen
Eyes can feel the unseen
Before it is verbalized and organised in pain
They seize innocent criminals that abuse letters
Eyes of creativity don’t feel no pity
They endlessly seek traumatized emotions in numerous seasons
These eyes live in the back of every tongue rotation
These eyes pee tears like polluted rain drops
Urinating deceases polluting the already sick tears
They lecture life with pride
Eyelashes that endlessly spray hope in words with no doubt
Eyes on words prefer no sun glasses but stanzas
They speak darkness in all artistic graphics
They visualize visions in brain map fantasies
A place with more sins and judgments they visit
They speak non-rated missions
When the world is rude to you don’t be picky on dreams
Dreams are never on vacation
These eyes can sense
These eyes are like pens
They are fans of disappointments while contribution stepladders
It’s like a clan
They reproduce stomach cramps using fertile words
The family of giving and receiving
Eyes on words speak in mute expressions
They build towers of tomorrow’s errors
Buildings that look down on problems
Eyes on words are like cold visions with no ice
© Raymond Ngomane
T'was a splendid night and I'm feeling
'Had a good ol' time, just areeling
With stories to be told
Now the paint is running out of the frame
With my pockets emptied of all loose change
I was young when I left home
When the heart is great and the world
Proves itself too small
When a stark ambition arises
If only to fall
The battlefield was left bloody and cold
They all had knives and I came through alone
I was young when I left home
Now I hear your name from the darkness
As I'm walking through the snow
And a pleasant warmth embraces me, seeps
Deep into my bones
There is no pretence in your sweet smile
And I find the strength to go the extra mile
I was young when I left home
I could care less about the four
corners of insults,
That intelligence invites;
It is always the first straw of
grass that’s grows,
which reveals the popular outcast;
As a youth, I found my image cut down
into this manufactured silhouette.
Drenched in social rain, my peers
had never found me more alienated,
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse
They did everything in their power to provide
a verbal umbrella,
However, the texture remains weak and
This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought,
For within this cranial mansion resides
For the more abstract and surreal
elements of life;
It is that secluded gland which reveals
the renaissance of men, who wear
Now wearing the shoes of a young
A taste of charisma resides in my
However this slight addiction to external
Comes in second to my first drug of
Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime;
So don’t be surprised when resistance
knocks at your door,
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.
In Swat valley in Northern Pakistan
Malala, a young female teenager
Stood against the might of the Taliban
And earned the respect of those who knew her
She opposed their girls' education ban
And spread the issue all over the world
This enraged the terrorist Taliban
Who were determined to silence this girl
They sent an assassin to murder her
And he shot a bullet right through her head
But she proved to be a tough survivor
And became even more vocal instead
For her courage and heroic action
She earned the award of a Nobel prize
This defiant female from Pakistan
Became an idol in everyone's eyes
This is a tribute to Malala, recent Nobel Prize recipient.
THE ONLY THING I KNEW, BUT IT WASN'T SO NEW
TO THE WORLD BUT TO FEW, THOUGHT OF BRAND NEW
LITTLE I KNEW OF MY WEAKNESS, I THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE STEW
GOT ME TRAPPED AND INTO THE MOUTH IT GOT ME CHEWED
THOUGHT I OWNED IT, BUT IN REAL I HAD LOST IT
TO ONLY THOSE WHO'RE FOCUSED
THEM LIFE IS NOT LIKE MORNING DEW
DETERMINED AND WITH ONE AIM LIKE DORCAS
STICK TO ONE SINGLE AIM OF SUCCESS LIKE JEWS
TO WIN I THOUGHT I OWNED IT, BUT I REAL I HAD LOST IT
THE GENIUS IN EVERYTHING THOUGHT I WAS
SIMPLETON THE WORD I USED IN REFERENCE TO OTHERS
KEEPING TO MY SELF AND PRIDE AS CHARACTER I WAS
AND MINE TO THINK WAS ALL THE BEST TO HIT THE CRACKERS
PRIDE MADE ME OWN IT ,BUT IN REAL I HAD LOST IT.
NOW LEARNED IN FULL AND IN CAPACITY
REAP BEHAVIOUR AND EARNED A CHARACTER
HIT WITH THE ROD OF CHANGE AND REALITY
BACK TO TRACK FULLY LOADED LIKE A ROAD-STAR
AWAY WITH I OWNED IT,NOW WE OWN IT.
I do not know?
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.’
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away
I do not know?
I can see you up ahead of me
I am following
in your footsteps
no matter how fast I walk
I cannot catch up
your footsteps are bigger than mine
but they were warm
and safe to step in
you turn around
and smile encouragingly
then return to your journey
thank you for your footsteps
when I can no longer see you
they will always be here
pointing me in the right direction
Dora Roimata Langsbury
27 June 2009
Written for my father, Kuao Langsbury, for his 75th birthday gift.
Thank you – Zamreen Zarook
Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.
Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.
People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.
Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.
Manifestations in life come from chosen
application of frequent thoughts in one's mind
Reveals and befalls a person's existence
Resource for combustion the fuel is spirit
This one can learn even if they not humble
All acts come into being through the body
Impulsive are the desires of body
Selfish at times be these acts one has chosen
Passion does carry energy for spirit
yet this life adventure is just one existence
There are many more for the creative mind
This should cause all to pause and be humble
Still those deny that there is a co-existence
carrying on with life never be humble
they all follow the dark path they have chosen
allowing uncontrolled thoughts to run the mind
Reluctantly it does comply the spirit
Paid by his holy sacrifice of body
Unlimited is the source of the spirit
becoming aware of this is to humble
knowing there is more than human existence
Serving only as a vessel the body
placed to carry out the deeds that are chosen
Placing utmost importance on state of mind
Considerations to remaining humble
It provides one with a peaceful existence
thoughtful are all of the decisions chosen
Willing compliant must be the spirit
Stable and balanced at all times is the mind
Righteous and just are the acts of the body
Coming to an understanding in one's mind
Relating all things as is to the body
Ever present to assist is the spirit
a faithful and loyal companion chosen
who steadily remain fixed to be humble
There in part lay a eternal existence
Sought after is a chosen
of mind, body and spirit
We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,
Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...
These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken
Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
They tell me to express myself with words so foreign that I question myself.
Verbatim. Diction. Syllabic expression.
Please explain to me, a kid from the projects, what the hell you talkin about?
Cuz where I'm from you spit rhymes like bullets.
Lock and load.
Don't wait for a reaction.
Ready, Set, Go!
Crime is our muse, drugs are our fuel.
You can judge from a distance but remember.
We don't affiliate with none of yo crew, talkin bout red, white, and blue.
I consider myself patriotic to my youth.
But if I dare break down these walls myself....
You will see that I am an exquisite young lady hidden underneath "white trash."
I call it camouflage.
Don't you see?
I can explain to you the differences between an Italian and an English Sonnet.
Describe the meter of a Langston Hughes piece, or even write a couplet myself.
But those things won't teach you how to survive.
Not around here.
So I'll act illiterate, and act like I don't give a shit.
Just to prove a point.
But in the back of my mind I'll be counting rhyme to make sure that words come out in time.
All the while I'll delude my real self till I am no longer in the presence of fools.
I'll hide behind the green bushes and tumbleweeds that are my second self.
And put my dictionary back on the shelf.
Because unfortunately to be real means to be ignorant, and to be intelligent means to be indignant.
Fear of Numbers
Fear of numbers is real
They carry adding machines on their backs
And loaded numbered guns
Divide and subtract from families and everyone
With two times the pleasure two times the fun
Double their trouble on the run
You cannot escape the digits on your hands and toes
They are counting on you to pull them through
Children fear math and numbers like the plague
Run from them at multiple fractions of a second
Poof!...Like zero, (Is that a real name and number?), they are gone
Figures hide behind accountants glasses
Hitting you with tons of taxes
Not to be divisive or derisive
Or taken down in dividends
I think they’re out to get you
In the end they have no =
Something’s don’t add up
You can count on that
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.
Down the Missouri they traveled,
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end.
©2013 Honestly JT
Because I'm Ready To Grow Up
I have had enough
Enough with the happy times
I'm ready to take on the stress
No more playground or bubbles baths please
Enough with the piles and piles of mess
I'm grown up now ready for change
I had it with being a baby bird
I don't want to be fed I don't want to cry
I want to get out of the nest, spread my wings
I want to take flight in the sky so high
I had enough of the princess dresses
Get rid of those Barbie dolls
Throw away all those plastic high heels
And bring on the teenage texting of Lols
Don't u get it I've had enough
I'm ready to grow up to break out of the shell
I'm prepared to take on life's earthquakes
Waiting for the day when I'll have stories to tell
Princesses and fairies will never be real
There is nothing in the world that's free
You don't magically have a happy ending
All i can be in life is me
So I'm ready to grow up
To escape the magical world
For you have to earn whatever you want
Nothing comes in a pink sparkly twirl
So I've had enough
Rip my childhood apart
I'm happy to face the impending future
drown the happy memories in my heart
Class or Claaassee !
Night owl with an open circumstance fears
from blue neglect with the rages of unfortunate
idealisms---“why don’t you”---a nag nag nag
sequence, fosters an arm’s length gaze glance
I peer through picket fence fingers, while tongue
depressing hop to it euphemisms to gag
your elementary gesture fantasies with lurking
adult gonatitudes, (envy) in full glee—“I don’t
care---but then what if”---and
would even believe me if I tried to tell
you the truth, you don’t want to touch in mind.
I fail to the order of kindergartenal suicide
and prose my character to mold your moods in
one tenth hope of a swelled down deep particle
secret desire. Take it for what it is and not think
to misabandon, stop look and feelisten.
Your neighbor is only good as you. Plain
simple downdeep and bittersweet bliss bias
but for—lorn fortunate to at least gain a
Goldilocks glimpse into your uncouth
vascular unconscious. Given a mathetical
½ chance I may le-learn a think or 2
and----------------------hey, gimme me a hecka break
as he razed her eyebrows.
There things education should give
Pain and despair, and
The other the spirit of quit.
IT WAS IN A RACE
AMONG , I WAS IN RACE
AMONG THE HEADS FOR SUCCESS
SOME SPECTATORS BOO
SOME SPECTATORS WOO
SOME ATHLETES FELL
ON THE TO SUCCESS
THEY DANCE TO THE TUNE
OF BOOING SPECTATORS
I DANCE TO THE TUNE
DESTINATION , WE ARRIVED
AND FORTUNE SMILE ON ME
It's been a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.
First Hollywood kiss
Behind a pink crepe myrtle.
Thanks, Patsy Werner.
High school was okay.
Didn't help me to focus;
So, my mind wandered.
Surfed Bonzai Pipeline,
Big waves break into lava.
What made me do it?
I wondered why I was there.
Smoking pot. Stereo.
Good fun in the seventies.
And three wives later,
I finally found true love.
We're still together.
My destitute heart,
Saved by the sweetest angel.
I love you, Sandy.
Sooners are my team.
Most winning football program
In the Modern Era.
I am retired now.
But I have plenty to do.
I've been writing more.
Perhaps I will write a book.
I have many tales.
I'd chase young girls; but,
Girls with a "grampa" fetish
Are so hard to find.
If I am lucky,
I will just drop dead one day.
With my peace of mind.
Yes, made a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.
The Emancipation Proclamation was put
into effect in 1863,
That meant freedom for slaves,
the ones who looked like me,
blood, sweat, and bullets were shed along
innocent civilians put through years of hell
and fed with fears,
nooses invaded necks,
in the home of the brave,
in the home of the slaves,
blood flowing as they gaze,
lynchings were congregational,
white kids kids were taught to look at
them as merely educational,
he is just another tally in the stat book,
slaves screaming until exhaustion as they
were made to look,
saliva often found homes on the pits of
jeopardizing our case,
exasperating our race,
if you had children they often vanished
without a trace,
we were taught not to embrace,
each other in any way,
I know the only way we made it out is the
good Lord's grace..
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
A poem wrote by me, based on Person who is a deserving icon but still struggling hard with his career life and addressed as disturbed creature.
DISTURBED CREATURE--> Am I ?? BY Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare
Am I so insane, Am I so mad,
Dramatic mood of mine is so die hard.
Destroyed my peace, Shattering my dreams,
People call me as disturbed creature.
As like mounting the pain, attenuating the drain!!
Digesting my feelings lying inside me,
Strangely nobody cared, call me sick.
Teasing me lavishly and my heart is pricked,
Hurted me like hell when addressed me as stupid.
As like showering rain, missing on the lane!!
Time lapse in journey of life,
Can hamper anybody on its path.
When I see innate reflex of mine,
I always use to brightly shine.
Though possessing every job attributes of mine,
I never thought the authorities will ditch and hamper my career line.
Falsely acting bloody swine, making my image as fade as wine.
As like affecting harmonious divine, my soul was, as is transparently pristine!!
Destroying me and testing my patience, Never wanna give up.
Transformed deviations, wanna rightly screw up.
I wanna raise up, I wanna shake up.
I wanna wake up, Tranquilize my mind.
Unzip the professional life compressed by the culprits.
Wanna explore myself, driving the motivated heights of journey.
Lastly waiting for the optimistic opportunity.
Cuffing the suspect ,I wanna rejoice by my pattern of life!!
with Suyog Pagare
A life, a life has been given
given for propose?
A propose beyond control
Your shield is a marvelous, intense blue.
A deep, courageous, hopeful light
guides us down below with a composed ear,
what must it be like to be within your grasp?
What must you think of us?
An intricate, complex mass or do you think we must wake up,
wake up and live now, with nothing but love in our presence?
Then, and only then,
Would we be finesse.
Then, and only then would we become deep, courageous, hopeful light.
What must you think?
Copyright © Christina Clark
Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children
I'm often repeated and hardly defeated
Could be good, bad or ugly
it all depends on what you make of me
I run a full course when fully encrypted
I am Habit
I can make you soar sky high
As well as fuel your eyes to cry
Can lead you to great profit
or lay you down underneath
Its still me Habit
A friend to both the achiever and mediocre
The very small stream that makes a river
What's your flavour? I make and mar
Can keep you redundant or take you far
Call me Habit
Be firm with me and you'll achieve a great feat
Be easy with me and you'll be wasted six feet
I'm not the greatest of all-times, but when I'm done,
I'll be an all time great in this lifetime of mine
Like the late great who came before my time
I will breed a new lifeline, that will breathe life like march of dimes
My story lines, will bring truth life; like troops who fight
Overseas, for rights of those who believe that death is life
Now that ain't right!
As the rich is getting richer, eating fillet me-non, while we barely feeding our appetite
Night after night
Survival has waged a war that gave us no choice but to battle and fight
Although, we'll be all right
They say we a dying breed, but that ain't right
Instead we're the light to a lying greed
That will enlighten life to a brand new seed
A man of God indeed
Freed from the Son that bleeds
Like the summer breeze
He's the sum that equals the amount of air I breathe
The air that please
A satisfaction like the birds and the bees
My word's words are the keys
That will fornicate with the mind and give birth to a seed
A seed of social change, that'll change our social economy
So shall our comradery
That will bring comfort to a struggling society
A synonym...similar to a civilization seeking for unity
Unifying the physics of theory
That seeks to explain the synopsis of a dying philosophy
Similar to the Cosby
X-cept my scrip-tic will speak more about our reality
Like life's calamity
And everything else in life that's destroying us systematically
However, I've discovered a system
That can mathematically destroy ignorancy
And turn our state of mind intellectually
I elect that He (God) selects me to be
And be that man who may lead this community
So that they (My Peoples) may commute with me
En-route to a destination, destine towards our destiny
Like we were destine to be
We were meant to be "Great" like the late great that came before we.
Because we are...
The reflection where perfection gave birth to the definition of greatness
Where great means Competent, Skilled, Well Informed, and Tremendous
Our potentials are endless
And only we not even the enemy can put an end to this
So it's time we put a stop to this
The biggest enemy of self
And that's envy and jelousness
Cause after this is Heaven or Hell and that's all there is
A promised made sealed with a kiss
Is the next best thing since "In the beginning"
In the first chapter of the first verse in Genesis!