How beautiful his words
Mirrors that reflect me
Melancholic yet happy
His words are the hands that stroke my brow
The arms that engulf me
And hold me close to his heart's warmth
How passionate his words
A symphony of language
A splash of colour
That speak my meaning
I am the ventroloquist's dummy
Moving my lips
While his words speak
I am in love not with him
But with his words
Which make her love
So much truer
body of steel
mind of metal
passionate gold
we are demons
engraved in madness
rage and fire
answers burn
holes in logic
fact is not fact
until dreamers unleash
their anger at being spoken down
poverty is for the pure
the rest of us are cursed
with illusions of wealth
give me the money
to hell with fame
truth and insanity
are often very much the same thing
logic holds no comfort
so it is the irrational
i have decided to turn to
I died in a dream last night
And found myself in purgatory
With the poets, and writers, and rappers
Got caught in a conversation
With Tupac and Shakespeare
On the power of rhyme & reason
Old Will found American English treason
And Pac thought the rhyming couplet thing
Was totally overplayed
I left them sharing a pipe of heavenly weed
And moved on in search of Pinero
Who was chatting up a transvestite
For a line
Still seeking a cause
He reminisced about the nuyorican
Still waiting for his soul mate, miguel algarin,
To come join him for the next chapter
Of the hereafter
Seems I had ended up in the place where writers go
Between heaven and hell
Lorca, Wilde, Themba, Wright, Hughes, Baldwin were all there
Kerouac, Williams, Biggie & Ginsberg too
The list was long
And I had no time
Coz morning was coming
And then I awoke
she left footprints
on my heart
small, size 4 heels
with every step she took
she laid faint traces of her
on my soul
i can still taste her scent
taste her smile
feel her footsteps lingering
The moon dances
To the cracking of stars
At midnight
The planets tango
Across the milky way
And I have found a home
In the universe
My world is beyond this reality
My dreams are of this earth
My body is merely a vehicle
Something to occupy me
While I plan my true journey
It is all very confusing
But one day it will make sense
For the first time
I have nothing to say
Any attempt to be mildly poetc
Fizzles as the words start
To touch my fingers
So I am just writing
Breaking up the lines
Pretending that within this
The muse touch lingers
Tonight she has forsaken me
It has to happen some time
I have no fear because
Sooner or later
She shall return
And we shall lie
In each other's arms
Once more
I am
Not because of the clothes I wear
The places I go
The people I see
The songs I love
The rhythms I dance to
The books I read
The space I was born into
The parents I have
The food I eat
The jokes I laugh at
The way I walk
The way I talk
The colours I like
The way I cut my hair
The car I drive
The work I do
I am not african
Because of all these things
I am african
Because that is the soil I breath
And the way my heart beats
That is my essence
I am african
Without definition
Ghoulish demons run the earth
Bearers of lucifer's insanity
These dark, stonelike creatures
Dance a fiendish dance
Melodies of which are silent
To the naked ear
They follow the dagger
On its journey through the ages
Crouching in the shadows
Lurking in brothels
Flying on invisible ethereal strings
Evil manifested is whispered
In the ears of those susceptible
To the devil's charms
And that is all of us
The madness that lurks in our hearts
May be clouded by thick, dense branches
But exists all the same
Who knows what the future holds
With the chaos that already exists
They stood toe-to-toe
Two men with hearts of stone
With the weight of a thousand
On the shoulders
And the pockets of a few
On their necks
They have fought, and sweated
And laughed, and cried
All for this moment
Standing toe-to-toe
They have been called by many names
Fighters, warriors, boxers, pugilists, beasts, animals
But in their hearts
They build a future for their children
With each punch, each blow,
Each drop of blood that bleeds from the multitude of cuts and bruises
Painted across their faces
They hurt each other
Out of love for their wives
And mothers and fathers
And children
It is a cold world
And we carve pieces of our flesh
Out is something beyond a dream
