Wake up and rise

Feel the engine bouncing in your chest
Feel the flow of blood running in your body
You are probably human if you can read

Listen to your soul
The song wants to rise
The soul likes to sing
Let the feet feel the surface of the earth
The rose in you wants to rise
And shine for a new day

Break the prison
A smile belongs to the atmosphere
It is meant for the sight of those in your life
Rise from the grave
Wake up, the life is in your attitude
The pave is your emotions
And everything is everything
If you let it be

Fire on my soul

Fire on my soul

Some eyes are made for love
Some can make you love
Others will ice your heart
Or leave fire on your soul
Like the fire on my soul
Burning deep in to my fears
Blood rising
Heart thrilling
Beats still leaving in a moment
Setting down the beast daring to scare me
I feel the fire on my soul
About to rise into air
In war against insanity
In a mission to burn the burden
And raise room for my smile to grow.

X- POWER

The periodic feeling
Is back in the southern life
Battles of a better lie
Flying against believable lies
In the ears of hopeless voters
Whose decision are enslaved by fears
Fears of the past and fears of the future

Those who tasted tender money
Afraid of tender changes
In favor of the their stomach
They sure will cast the expected “X”
Hoping for a continuous meal
Only on the bigger dish in time to come

The southern enigma
Now they showcase their idols tricks
Multilingual and vocal singers for now
As they continue to play mind games
The nation remains the lottery ticket

Like gamblers hoping for better cards
So remains the political leaders
As the time wheel roll one more time
Still praying that the listeners are not paying attention
For they know only the nation’s attention
Can prevent political lies from fermenting.

BITTER HISTORY

Eyes thrown up above
Looking at sweetly dressed land
The mountains that sings of joy
The horizon in a golden dress
All turned the years at once
The past knock on my memory
My eyes felt tears
I lost my happiness at a glance
Poverty in my hands turned
Extremely a shameful sorrow
My consciousness lost,
no more standing
Sailing over the beach of sorrow
The past bitter and beating my presence
Chasing away my happy day
Singing high and loudly for the truth
The truth of my yesterday
Old news more bitter less sweet
History, cold as the doors of hell
Harmful as terror
I fear the bad past
more as the past drive away my today.

The South Today

Is it the land of the people
as spoken and published to be free
is it a land of the free human spirit
or is it the land where free items
flow from beneath the ground
beneath unknown government flaws

The south,
Is it the land of peaceful souls
Is there a direction in this land
Where are the bodies of life
the roots of knowledge and sanity

Where have the true leaders gone
echoes of conversations sound empty
with little than no wisdom
the news have become continuous strings
of disappointments dancing one after the other

Where have the righteous one gone
how come the world seem to be sailing
into the unknown territory of no hope

Did you do it alone, “Tata”?

My humble apology,
allow me to ask,
perhaps an unfair question,
to such a stalwart, such a great leader
but “tata” I am left with disbelief
these people tell me you are different
they tell me you freed mzanzi
by yourself or with a little help
but I can hear these people
telling their offspring
that “You” are not like us
that “You” are a saint
a man send from straight above
to free the silly nation
that cannot count
add or multiply
“Tata”, is it true
that you are greater than your skin
that you did not take from your forefathers
that you had no brothers holding your arm
as you wrestle the beast
with your bare hand
that you walked the long walk by yourself?

I do recall the names of other legends
nation builders, even your own mentors
and as I recall the many names
I wonder, when did you became the greatest
and the rest become the smallest
the forgotten soldiers of the one movement
the very movement that today landed a golden spoon in your family mouth
the one movement that I remember was meant to free Africa and its offspring
perhaps I skipped a chapter in history
or maybe I am just miseducated

rivers of blood

rivers of blood
in the land of minerals
where the footsteps of the tribal wars once emerged
continue to flow in darkness across the mountains
where the bullets played silly games
in the hands of man fighting for the unknown
as they continue to wait for month end
while the benefactors of war continue to smile
as their body rolls on the paper wealth
the joy in private moments
in shining grounds
the value for money seen by blind souls
as they continue to ignore
the rotten conflict that steals from many
the disappearing of those chasing change
as the poor continue to bleed for a little cents
communities awaits
lies reach boiling point
as conferences and commissions
yet nothing meaningful
and tears continue to flow
on the faces of those swimming in their sweat
the confusion goes on
mountains hungry lions
continue to enjoy the jungle of empty hopes
as the nation forget the past
the dead fade away
the judge will be lost in space.