Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same,
That runs deep within our veins.
If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.
©2013 Honestly JT
Stranded in this place
I cannot recognize
Abandoned and lonely
No one hears my cries
AS i walk through this wasteland
Of wilderness and desolation
I am consumed with anguish
I walk this road with hesitation
On every turn that i come upon
The is more pain than at the last turn
Agony and torment spews from my pores
With every step i take more pain i earn
Until i am enveloped with grief
Buried alive on my feet
Dirt in my eyes,nose,mouth,and lungs
I throw up my flag of defeat
Each painful blow leaves behind a deep gash
That is constantly reopened never able to heal
Infection has now set into my heart
Slashes and scars on my body reveals the detail
Of the despair embedded deep in my soul
That tells a tale of a soul so lost
A soul wandering through this wilderness
A tale of what being born black cost
written 25th Oct 2013
I don't know if human's will ever see
every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
there has to be a place for the poorest
The entire world is built up from the same level, dirt
each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story
The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness
Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth
He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...
This ain't my first rodeo, so knowing the score more than four
I declare in this manure-flinging system of elected despotism
we ain't got no permanent friends, just permanent interests.
America's a dazzling chupacabra of a conceit
conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition
that shades of equality increase the gross market share.
We supplant the visible etchings of the colonial lash
with the invisible ones of debt by procuring more *****we don't need.
Breathless canaries in a cultural coal-mine,
fascicled to Breaking Bad, Mad Men and the Simpsons,
shackled to Amazon 's 'Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought'
we're driven out toward the oceans beneath Europa's baker's sugar crust
where freedom exists on a mono-cellular level
but knowing we 're not alone doesn't amount to manure
cuz they ain't Christian microbes so they ain't gonna be no use to us.
Like wind before the thunder the supple susurrus of my heart
sends frissons of pleasure jolting though my *****
bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions
as to feel at home in the hallowed aisles of Costco or Sam's Club.
Our finger wagging Uncle has overstayed his welcome,
So **** your tired, your poor -
you're taking away jobs from real Americans.
**** your huddled masses yearning to breathe free -
your emergency room doctor visits are costing taxpayers $2286 a pop.
**** the wretched refuse of your teeming shore -
we already have enough garbage to fill our landfills
Just gimme my VIZIO 80” Razor LED™ 3D Smart TV for my eye candy
Gimme my Google Nexus 8 cell phone cuz Steve Jobs can suck my dick
Gimme my Fidelio X1 headphones so I don't miss the subtle nuances in Willie Nelson's
Gimme my Nestlé Crunch Girl Scout candy bars for my sweet tooth and latent pedophilia
Gimme my Dial Triple Moisture Body cuz my balls got a stank like 3 day old crawdads
Gimme my Quilted Northern Ultra Plush toilet tissue cuz my ass needs TLC and backdoor action
Gimme my Fruit Smoothie Shakers so I don't have to get gouged by some turban mofo at Jamba Juice
Gimme my Gillette Fusion ProGlide Power Razor so I don't look like Jesus-F-Christ or a sandnigger
Gimme my Lash Factor Eyelash Conditioner cuz flirtatious love winks should be unconditional
America's soul is shrinking and vanishing like glaciers.
Grackles ebonize the sky where once proud eagles soared.
With God's help, America will rise again like the body of Christ after a good whooping!
Come on y'all - don't let my patriotic rant spoil a perfectly good Klan rally.
There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth .
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold.
This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here .
This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here . No one Flower is better then another .
All Flowers are equal here .
It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed .
For the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another .
money holds no value , Where you live , what you own, has no significance here .
You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens .
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you .
Hate will be shed at the door light a old jacket of no use.
There is a place of beauty and Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth .
It is a place where no one person is better then another .
My spirit and soul are trapped in this vessel of flesh. They scream to escape and to be liberated and soar on the breezes of life. To frolic freely among the trees, among the clouds and to run without weight and care.
My spirit and soul are trapped and they want to get out. Out from under all the stress and demand in life out from all the evil and hate of the world.
My spirit and soul are trapped in demand to perform, to keep a smile when I am down, to keep a stiff upper lip.
My spirit and soul are trapped to work for things and objects, to keep up with Jones and Kardashians.
My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that all men are made equal when the reality of this world says different, that only green currency is the great equalizer.
My spirit and soul are trapped into believing that single is not wholeness that it is necessary to be joined with another body to be view without stigma.
My spirit and soul are trapped in a body not acceptable because it's fat, it's woman and it's black and aging.
My spirit and soul are trapped and they are screaming to be free... screaming to reveal all the possibilities of how good life could be if I just didn't give a damn about who thinks what about me.
I saw you walking towards me and as you came near,
I became aware my bag was open and tried to subtly tuck it, closed under my arm.
You looked at me with a smile that said more than hello,
put your hands up beside your head, an exaggerated gesture of peace, and walked on.
I dropped my eyes.
You stayed with me all of that day.
I told you how small it made me feel, that you had seen your reflection in my eyes and recognised an altered image.
I apologised deeply for the fact that you saw this image, reflected a hundred times a day,
I wondered what that might do to me,
and understood your sarcasm, why you wanted me to feel ashamed,
and I told you that I did.
I recounted a story a man once told, about travelling and seeing a young boy,
with ice blue eyes, and blonde hair, cleaning the urinals he was about to use,
and how uncomfortable this made him,
not because there was someone cleaning the urinals,
but because, this someone had blue eyes, and blonde hair,
which meant the boy was better than him.
He realised he believed this,
as a sophisticated man,
and he didn’t know how to change it,
it was what he had always been told.
I remembered some one telling me,
she felt no shame in stealing from me,
because all I had, I only had through thievery.
I spoke about hearing a man talk to a crowded room,
saying that he acknowledged the fact,
that he only had what he had,
because others were deprived,
that he has benefited and continues to,
by standing on the backs of others who were forced onto their knees.
I remember a women in the crowd,
who thanked him,
with emotion heavy in her voice, she thanked him,
and told him he had healed a part of her,
by owning his privilege.
I wondered aloud what owning this meant,
and if it came with a responsibility.
I told you that I felt dirty,
when spoken to as if I were older than I am.
I remembered someone who I considered a friend,
telling me he would kill me, for skin alone,
if a civil war broke out.
I spoke to you about the woman,
who told me she was successful,
and she was educated,
and somehow it felt like, and was secretly considered, a betrayal,
a rejection of the self,
and sometimes she hated her success,
and that she was split inside herself.
I tried to make coherent sense of the many exchanges I have had,
with myself and others,
about shame, about guilt, about anger,
about a solution,
and I cried,
and I told you that I wished,
we could have this conversation.
(april the 27th 1994)
far too many brave compatriots died
flooding rivers of tears were cried
far too many families ripped apart
daggers cutting into their heart
the pain is felt still deep today
on this glorious sun-splashed South African Freedom Day
as we pause and remember those who do not remain with us anymore
as we appreciate the fruits that their sacrifice and struggle bore
far too many to count and to name
but we honour them all while we keep burning that eternal flame
...Oliver Reginald Tambo
just a few, but so many still nameless
who were brutally cut down
by a racist system that was merciless, and cruelly shameless
we honour you, today
but we remember you each and every day
when we breathe in the air of the freedom that you craved
as we walk the roads of a wounded but healing country that you saved
from itself, for the hate and racism and hushed prejudice of race and gender and religion and sexual persuasion and caste and creed
that you so valiantly fought against, is still with us, as it on fear and ignorance does feed
the odour of racism and hate
of white and black and jew and muslim and hindu and catholic and yellow and brown
is a living parasite that lives and thrives all across this beautiful world, from cities and villages and hamlets, to the smallest rural town
it may become a mark of shame upon us all
so we have to, today, struggle against and boldly fight
for the sacrifices of the many can never be cheapened, by the polite dinner-table murmurs of hate, try as hard as they might
for if we as a nation,
are to truly step out of the lashing cold painful rain
we have to continue your struggle
so that your supreme sacrifices may not have been in vain...
and so we say
'hamba kahle, comrades'
to you who laid your young lives down and slipped away
so that we who remain may in the sunlight and out of the rain live and breathe and stay
in a country, and in a world
where religion and gender and sexual-persuasion and all colourful hues
may mingle and love and laugh and cry together on the sun-filled avenues
so thank you, comrades, for showing us a better path that we must embark on as we shuffle onwards into a brighter tomorrow
away from the hurt of the past, and away from the tears and away from all the sorrow
for the true freedom that we seek now, is the freedom from our own racism, our own prejudices, our own sexism, our own petty hates and bottled-up anger
for therein, lies the fight ahead
for therein, lies the real and growing danger.
The Struggle Continues...
Tears of our fathers of old
A silent cry through whips of toil
In rain and in the frozen cold
They work the harvest of the soil.
Tears of our fathers of old
The men that lapped the morsels
The tasteless bread of mold
A fitting feast to mongrels.
As if joy was a distant glow
Or freedom,infinite moons away
Death's heartless striking blow
Was a sweet and wonderous day.
At the cruel hands of the overseers
Their sorrows renewed each day
A beast of labour in many tears
In the stinging sparkling ray.
Through history's ruthless pages
Forlorn are memories that gathers
Through the past century stages
The tears of our fathers!
In the country of my forefathers,
Economy is friendless and upset,
Politics are sleeping with labour,
Justice is seducing foreign crime,
Poetry is turned on, but it fears,
Traditions keeps history hostage,
Religions are attempting suicide,
Nature is busy biting its tongues,
Fruits are swearing at their trees,
Education shows God axis finger,
Seas gets shallow, graves deepen,
Life confront its first nightmares,
Death is satisfying its final desire,
Future is stinking nothing but lies,
June 13, 2003
By Mohlouoa Ntsasa