Loveless Love Letters

Dear Dorothy

Is it your comforting touch, your cheering laugh or your tight squeezing hugs that’s got me missing you? Or maybe it’s just my regrets, of the pain I caused you that has got me thinking so deeply.

I remember how your big eyes used to light up when we were together. You would smile as you lay your head on my shoulder telling me about your friends, the real ones and the fake. You thought I was one of the real ones and set no boundaries for what you could say next, you just said it all and I was all ears all the time.

I, however, could not even begin to tell you what was on my mind. It wasn’t you… maybe it was what we were doing together but looking back at it now, I did not really have your best interests at heart. You are Beautiful, always have and always will be. But I took that beauty for granted – I had somebody else.

Yes, it’s by time I confessed. My heart has always belonged to Diane. I lied and told you I was getting tired of her, but every night I rested in her arms and had no trouble falling into peaceful slumber.

I kept you hopeful – of a time when you and I would pack only our favourite clothes and note books and run away together. We said we would leave it all behind, the money, careers and past lovers…but in truth that was all just a dream, a youthful fantasy – it was never going to happen.

Diane has gone back home to care for her young siblings while her ill mother is in and out of hospital, and although I should be worried for her and their family’s pain – I am now missing you. Maybe this is just a lonely man trying to satisfy fleshly urges, or maybe this is our time Dorothy – maybe we could set sail with those dreams we once buried.

I’ve always loved how you composed your poems, although I have never been able to produce words under such a rhyming pressure and for sure I never will have the pleasure. But still you loved my short stories and we said that together we would take over the world of free-lance literature.

I heard some birds singing a song about how you had found a new love, but you and I both know that he is just trying to fill up my old boots. What we had, no – what we have is real, a true connection you know – chemistry. I will come by real soon to take back what is rightfully mine.

Until I come my love, do prepare some poems for me…I’ve got so many apologies to sing to you, and some ice-cream too. We can sit through the sunset on your porch as we let our words do the talking. It will be like old times. It will be a Grand time.

Sincerely yours.

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Beautiful Africa

Africa, the motherland, my motherland. My roots grow from deep in this land of dust and grass, trees and valleys – all made so beautiful under the African Sun.

If I had the hand of a Picasso I would glue my eyes into the distance, grab a paint brush and create something that your eyes could feast on. But I do not have such a luxury, instead I have these words with which I can prepare a snack for your mind.

It’s past midnight and I have come to sit outside hoping to catch a view of the stars but I find none – I guess there isn’t enough room to shine with the full moon ruling the sky. I Stare at a bright light on the horizon and I know there is somebody beautiful in that home, somebody the world wants to know nothing about in this internationally damned continent that I love.

Oh yes Africa you ugly piece of art, they do not know your beauty, you are far too unique for the simple minded. So many colours to see in Africa, your diverse people and cultures and the wild animals born into your care…how could I ever thank you Mama Africa, you accommodate so many in your humble hut.

Landscapes from the deep rivers to the high-flying mountains, Africa so uncontrollable, offering different talents only to the brave who are willing to try. Dried up old stubborn deserts that have never begged for a drink, fragile wetlands and tall forests to the large grasslands where our King lion reigns. Yes, the rightful King who has battled all his rivals into submission – great glory goes to he who has crowned himself victor in pride.

I breathe in your fresh air, forever shall you remain untamed. It comes as no surprise that the birds love to fly your way as they enjoy the precious view of beautiful dark skin from above. The moon loves this view too and even during the day he can be seen stealing a peep of this masterpiece as he awaits his turn patiently.

Apparently the whole world shares the same sun, but O’ Great light bringer, even you know who you love most. Here in Africa you shine brightest – endless celebrations of summer throughout the year for our son will never forsake his first love. With this love you offer us great protection, the trespassers cannot bear your heat so they rush to get out of the kitchen…yes we are wounded but you did not give them enough comfort to cook up their evil schemes.

Beautiful Africa, one day I will leave my children in your care, teach them the ways of our honey-badger, although he has covered his top with the flag of the snow, he remains grounded to his roots and never turns away from a fight. Show them the peacock as well – just for their pleasure, so they may learn to be proud of their unique beauty.

Beautiful Africa, my motherland, I thank you for offering your ears to hear my cries…remember me with a waterfall of tears that lead to a peaceful paradise where different tribes and beasts will come to drink away their thirst.

The City & small towns

So I was taking a walk the other day, yes an actual walk – slow paced and with peaceful thoughts and maybe even a song (a calm song) – one that you would play even by the waterfall.

Suddenly it began to drizzle and I was taking a walk in the rain. Imagine that, an actual walk in the rain – this kind of stuff is unheard of in the City where I come from – it’s an experience we have reserved strictly for thoughts of retirement by the seaside.

That’s the beauty of a small town isn’t it? You are afforded so much space and you don’t have to rush to and fro’ in fear of being stumbled down in a sidewalk-stampede.

The clouds took a deep breath and the drizzle turned into a shower – paradise is over. I began taking larger steps to hurry back home – you can take the Boy out of the City but you cannot take the City out of Me. We have never loved the rain I tell you, our working-class uniforms and overpriced trends do not allow that.

So I increased my pace, put some springs into my steps – but you cannot pick and choose which part of the City you want, you have to take the whole package. And that’s when the bounce began to show, along with chest out and head in the clouds…that’s how we do it in the City.

Small-town folk always think we are just arrogant, but with the number of thieves our overpriced-ness attracts, it’s better to look like an aggressor than to look like a victim. That’s one aspect of city life I had no trouble mastering. You have to know the lingo for the tango, there’s too much wisdom to learn on the City streets.

To be honest I don’t know which lifestyle I prefer anymore. The City life is in my veins, I bleed cheeky and trust nobody – yes The City is who I am and and have always wanted to be. I always dreamt to build my empire, spend more time with Mandela and The other heroes and make an impact! And at least I just have to keep my eyes open because most devils there wear their horns proudly.

Small town folk are harder to see through – there are less demons here but the few are harder to spot. The small town-feller is who I want to become now, not to be one of the few, but to live a modest life and enjoy more time alone with God, I trust he makes the greatest impact.

The Boys in Africa

I couldn’t believe in time travel until I realised it was simply being explained the wrong way. Numbers and fancy science sound smart but look around you it’s all in your face.

Heritage and culture are vital. It is shameful to forget these principles, if you do – you are lost and we won’t waste time letting you know. You’re African bro, you need to behave like It, sound like it and be proud of it.

There are no boys in Africa, only men. You need to provide bro, there’s no time to “find yourself”. Come to the city, up the street and downtown the gents hustle. Your friend might make a fortune and you cannot afford to fail. One way or another, you need that money bro.

BOOM! It’s Globalization all up in your face bro. Hollywood and Wall Street have taken over. “While I had no money I still had Sauce. If you ain’t got no sauce then you Lost”. So we run up to the College to get these degrees – but we can’t even afford these fees.

It’s no use writing these truths, or even having the consciousness to see it…because as along as I cannot get the rhythm and beat, I’ll never afford something to eat. The Boys are into Fashion these days mama, success is measured by Instagram Likes.

I’m beginning to feel out of place and unwelcome, because I started treating women with respect and they started calling me weak. I tried to help prevent the same fate for the next generation and then my grades fell…but for some reason it came with no regrets because I don’t want to gain the world while losing my soul.

O’ mama, maybe if Daddy never left us the boys in Africa would have had a back-bone, a role model to hold onto, a prototype to imitate. But I guess he too was lured by the changing times, the freedom to follow his dreams, practice his Constitutional rights and “Find himself”. And then you had to work overtime to school us and win-some-bread.

You left us home with a gift though, entertainment on television to keep us happy. That’s when Lil-Wayne became a father figure and Facebook my playground where I downloaded so many friends who wished me happy birthday – none was there to share my cake…but that’s nothing new, it’s just the life of The Boys in Africa, “Thank you Tata Mandela”.

In the Dark

Hidden in the dark are my fears and regrets and secrets of shame. I remain in the dark to keep a close eye on it all to make sure none of it escapes, to make sure nobody gets to see what I am and what I am not.

It is Dark in the Dark I cannot see no hope, nor faith and the truth is no different from lies for in the dark it is Dark. I cannot see and neither can you.

It is quiet in the Dark I close my eyes and I begin to dream. There is light in the dark and I can see the grass is green and the skies are blue. You don’t need to tell me twice, I can see that the birds fly – with mighty ease they reach for the clouds and nest on the trees…this is my dream, my dream of light in the dark. There is light in my dreams, in my head, no – there is light inside me.

In me there is light. O’ light spread all around, to my hands to touch and my legs to stand. I reach out and touch you and you awake and click the switch, there is light in the room. I can see your eyes in the light and they shine so bright, just to think all of this started with a little dream – a little light in the dark.

My fears and shame, they remain in the dark – I don’t wanna go back to the dark. There there is no hope and no spark. I’ll remain in the light, I can see it all, you don’t have to tell me – the truth is true. I am what I am and not what I am not.

A Message from Below…

It only takes a moment for a story to be told for a life-time.

So there I was asleep in the dark surrounded by four brave walls and cushioned by a single bed positioned in one of the corners. I dont have much of a pillow left but as long as I can keep the pillow case on, I’ve got enough to dream on.

He’s got guts of steel, that much I have to give him. But I need to find something to give him from my heart. I dig deep and all I can find is Pity. Pity and a Prayer – that much he has earned. My respect he decided he does not need, and my phone he stole!

So I was asleep one Monday night relieved thinking I had made it through the day that nobody loves to participate in. Deep in the night he creeped in and I must have been just as deep in sleep when I didn’t hear him temper with the window.

Clearly I don’t have good hearing, but I surely have the nose to smell a rat. And that’s when it hit me, I was not alone in my private space. I opened my eyes to the sight of his dark figure and in an instant I exploded into shouts of hope – trying to make it as scary as possible and it worked, when faced with fight or flight the coward was out in a flash…not that I was particularly keen on a fight, you know, I was barely awake.

So he jumped out of the window from which he entered and with him – my phone he stole. He must be gutted, that was all he could get his hands on. But I must be even more relieved that he did not manage to get his dirty hands on my soul.

He’s cost me a full month without my phone and without it I simply cannot blog. My blog to me is like I’m writing a special text to a friend, to you…and I just can’t do that on the laptop for some reason. But in that month I learnt a lot and God has been faithful and the phone has been replaced and I could have cried many nights over that phone and still I would have been here right now with a smile in my heart.

So I wanna tell you this story from the bottom, the place where you feel like your good deeds are never seen while your mistakes are never missed, I have been there and I come now with a lesson: you cannot jump unless you first get a good launch – you cannot launch until you get on your feet and it only takes a moment for a story to be told for a lifetime.

It’s all in the journey of life, in my constant battle as a young-adult and coming to terms with maturity, I am slowly seeing that not everything is as bad or good as it seems, the excitement is in finding out which one it is and the growth is in determining which one you emphasise.