human being, Love

A day in dreamland.

Waking up in dreamland, The land of the truly free and brave, a land of true liberty and virtue. It’s no different than waking up in Johannesburg or Madrid, or even Moscow – I suppose.

In dreamland, simply put, I have just not really fully woke up.

In dreamland, I have the same flaws, still as incompetent, my head is still stuck in the clouds as they will say. However, here, I can still enjoy the little good that I am capable of giving. I may never change the world as I’ve been told I should, or I could – or I may yet still achieve that in time…but I guess the difference is that I still believe that time will let me get there eventually.

Meaningful friendships have shown themselves hard to come by. It could be that I have yet to meet people that make it feel as if I am able to express myself beyond my attempts to tailor my behaviours, thoughts, emotions and inadequacies to suit my surroundings.

It could also be that I have not learnt to suit my behaviours, thought, emotions and inadequacies to suit my surroundings.

Otherwise, the sun brings a lovely heat and I love it when I wake up in time to catch it blazing through the morning breeze, with a warm coffee and a seat to soak it up and explore easier adventures in my head.

At around noon, it often gets a bit too hot and I prefer to find a cooling shade where I can sit with a cup of a colder drink and listen to some music, or engage in some cheap conversations, laughters, or a wandering imagination as I blissfully stare into the horizon.

I pick up a piece of dried grass and pick it apart as I consider the possibility that I may one day realize that I am but a child of the soil of my birth. I think that maybe one day I’ll be able to afford a plot of land on which I’ll be able to grow something new, maybe a potato or some fruit.

But it would be better if I would one day be able to wander away and come across some unowned land by the riverside where I can build me a home, row a boat and catch some fish.

The “if” word can be such a joy when it opens doors to things previously unimagined. But it can also be such a pain when it shows you the many kinds of doors that you are currently on course to never hold the key to.

And fear always creeps in. You could travel far and wide and find a home in a wilderness or forest somewhere out there, but that house needs still to be built, and I never did concern myself with learning how to lay bricks, or make bricks. And even if I did – How will I learn to unlove the conveniences of electricity and security from wild predators and illnesses?

All that doesn’t even matter because the biggest threat and predator of man is man. I can escape the clutches of modern society, the wars of Capitalism and Communism, but I’ll never get away from the criminality that rages in any or every human whom I might encounter even in the most off-the-grid places in this world.

But still, a day in dreamland, I love it there. Because I do not imagine a world without any or all of these evils, I just dream of one where I will be brave enough to hold my own, fight for what I did right, while not hurting myself too much for when I went wrong.

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human being, Identity, truth

being Human BEING

It’s another beautiful morning and I wake up once again with the same addictions that I went to bed trying to get rid of. I can’t see the end, no. There’s no light in this tunnel, but hey, it’s another day and no matter what has been carried over from the last, I’ve still got life, still got you and your love, what more can one ask for.

I can never say I’m losing my mind because I’ve never really had control. I guess I just spend too much time worrying about my impact. forgetting that I am only one in a billion, neglecting the present, the gift that is today, packaged sincerely for me to be the best human being that I am.

yes. Human being. not Human becoming, nor human been. I can never say I’m losing myself because you will always be what you are being. If I’m lost, then being lost is who I am and I’ll just have to deal with that. You know, they say actions speak much louder than words. The lost can talk about being found, but the found sleep at home every night. That’s being Human being.

I always wonder about life and the fabrics of existence. I don’t want to speak profanely about the structures of the world because they are real and one who lives beyond their boundaries will fall into our rejected bin of outcasts. But I can’t seem to stop thinking about my default position in this life. If I let go of everything and allow myself to free-fall from this place where I’m trying to create something, down to the place that is made for me. The default position, the place where I don’t have to do anything but simply be.

But I don’t know how to act in a drought. So what if I let go and find myself living without? I guess that’s why it’s called default. If I go out of my way to find my default, would it really be my default? Or will it be a position that I chose to find?

Or is it just fear talking? fear taking over my mental now that I find myself in a position to create the life that I’ve been prepared and preparing for all this time? An honest opinion once told me that I worry too much, fearful of failure in this life which I once thought I had at my feet. But now I’ve got my head in the clouds, can’t feel my feet on the ground, so how do I know if I’m still on the path?

I’m crying out to the oppressor, “hey, you missed one. this one didn’t turn into a robot. It’s not content with the cubical, it’s not a political radical, it’s starting to sound a little cynical…” oh snap! I think I should stop there before they start seeing that I’m dysfunctional.

Mr President, it’s been done. Africa has been cleaned up. We managed to get the women thinking and they did the dirty work for us. We educated the African woman our way, empowered her with eyes to see the savagery that is hidden in the lies of the male of her species. It took us many o’ years, but eventually she broke free from his control, reproduction levels decreased, charity for the poor seized to exist, so they were easy to wipe out. It was easy still. The black male is good for nothing, driven only by passion he manged to imprison the woman through her emotions…but that was nothing a little education could not change. For many years the woman has been secretly crying for power, as soon as we gave her that in Africa, nullifying her hormonal need for the male was made easy by job satisfaction, and eventually erased through the granting of power over the savage. It’s only a matter of time until the last of them are gone from the face of the earth. We’ll speed up the process with a little more Hollywood and drug substance availability, we’ll use that very passion against him.

Chris, I saw what you wrote about the African woman. It’s simultaneously saddening and frightening to see that you think like that. Are you trying to say that the empowerment of the African woman will spell the end of the African male? I thought you were much smarter than this. This is the sort of backward thinking that has held our people enslaved by outdated custom and misleading ideologies. I’d advise you to reconsider your position on this matter before you completely discredit yourself as a rational thinking member of society and ultimately end your writing career before it has even begun. Think deeply about it my boy, you have a promising future ahead, don’t let this be the end of it.

I’m sorry Miss Jackson, I am for real. I can’t avoid the zeal that I have for the truth, I’m looking beyond face value, examining the principalities and the cracks in it. You see, growing up I was always told that I was bound for failure. But still I made it through the grades until now I’m almost touching a Law degree. I realise now that I was not meant to make it through the system that was constructed to stop people like me. people like me being the ones they love to label as having fallen through the cracks. Well I was in the cracks but instead of falling, I climbed. Unseen in the mist of the darkness that was foreseen for my future, I made it out. But now I’m looking at the world and it’s time for me to out into the light. It was only when I came out to finally see the sun, and at first glance it hurt me and I realised that I was disillusioned all along.

Why does honesty have to come at such a hefty expense? It’s as if they want us to continuously live in suspense, unknowing the conditions that we are fighting through. Globalisation and urbanisation is our reality in Africa. But look at how many of our men are turning out. An African man has to turn to homosexuality in order to be accepted as less of a threat in this world order. I’m watching the American movies, there is always that one awesome “gay black best friend”. Are they openly trying to advertise to us that we are more useful for society when we play a helping role instead of becoming leaders?

 

 

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