We're nearly there

Violet violence from the past/

Instead of sands, it’s lives in the hour glass/

The grass is never greener but it’s fine there’s a wall we put up/

Cut the sleeves leave the heart untouched/

We keep trying but the failure keeps us feeling sane/

Never knew history would have this part of a brain/

We go insane as the pain makes flames/

But the process is apart of the fame/

Artistic never pessimistic, we insist it/

The future is the present the past never envisioned/

We hoping that we present the last with this image/

Bout how we never love the process, we just kiss it/

Lip lock with the mission of journeys that never end/

Where the journey just becomes the friend/

Love the not destination, you may never reach the end/

Make your process. The End.

The Right to Love vs Giving Up

I once fell in love, and unfortunately my heart got dropped and it broke in the process. I can proudly state that I felt the fate of my feelings fell in her. Well according to determinists, this always has been a planned edition of my love life. Love I was in, I still try avoid her like a sin, smile like I'm supposed to, laugh at every joke too, this is what liking love has come to...anti-climax huh. The dimples in her smile reminds me how my lips wished to feel the the depths of what creates that smile. That smile always had me...still does, does this make sense? How much I've loved you for so long? Is it emotionally possible? To always feel unstoppable at halting the way I felt about you? He better treat you right...he better know I'll always be ready to fight for ya...to bring to light one piece of information. I'll always love you more...and it's not like I'm keeping score...

-#PaperChaseMemoirs-

Bitch(Born In The Conscious Heartbeat)

This is me thinking at 05h11am, July 2nd...

Fuck these people hating on a nigger just for being/
I hope one day we hate grow up hating Stevie Wonder just for seeing/
feelings are in recession-our love is at an all time low/
giving head to middle-class 'bout how low we can go/
I still believe it/
I'm still on a mission to be a killer/
break teeth snap back, snapping your back nigger/
belief in a lifetime of love, loving my love too/
where I treasure daughters, not to be a father who fucks you/
more than anything I pray for your health/
not so you grow to be rich, but so your love may grow in it's wealth/
I need to love myself before I love you/
I always have regrets of how a guy like me can hurt you/
yearn to hold you close like i do the mic/
I've been married to my music but its our future that I fail to write/
tell the world I suck at it/
this whole love concept, it's a bunch of bullshit/
I wanna be loved-a loving is obviously what I lack/
truth be told you're God-Given, you're the best I'll ever have/
put in a corner where virgins die inside of themselves/
yearning for love-not to be fucked like everyone else/
you yearn that touch to your heart-not anywhere else/
I yearn to touch you on your heart, keeping friendship abreast/
I never know what life has for me, a thousand days and counting/
but I'm here now, fucking emotions are busy mounting/
life's too short, I'll be the 1st one to go/
I'm not suicidal, I just thought you should know/ truth is, we all chickens causing beef with vegetarians/
our minds are busy swimming up river with prescatarians/
we fight for our lives and regret is our weigh-in/
humans-few of us left if any/
I believe I was human, but I decided to pull a Fergie/
this tumble drying I'm doing in an ocean of emotion has me thirsty/
I pray to one day love again, but this time dear God, I pray for mercy.

-#PaperChaseMemoirs-

Word Links

Weird. Unaccounted for the lies and anger inside words.
Weird. How words can be felt.
Thump. A heartbeat or punch...or the sound of heartbreak in 5 letters.
Address. The issue at hand.
Hand. The former home of the heart.
Admit. I lost it, in fact I never had it.
Your Love. Different. Questionable. How we still hold hands...yet we fail to touch.
Feelings. Emotions. Flood me into rivers of tears. Call Noah. maybe he would help hold the house we've built on this foundation of heartbreak.
Solid. My heart shall forever be. Caring not how soft your voice is...or how light your skin is... or how heavy the load is of loving me.

We don't know what tomorrow holds, but I hope in destiny's arms I find myself holding your hand. We met momentarily yet our eyes had a lifetimes conversation. Dream well dream girl, life is full of surprises yet fails to be a party...I just hope you're more than just a gift of the present.

-#PaperChaseMemoirs-

Ubuhle Bendoda by Nobenguni Nozulu

The beauty of a man is a phenomenon I have beheld from afar. Considering that my first inception of a man was a distant figure almost as a figure of speech in the phrases my mother used to describe my dad.
Nevertheless, I grew to accommodate the emergence of mankind in my life as with the birds and the bees… Even in having to reach an age where my life was surrounded by men eager to conserve my glacier heart from breaking.
Their conservation was futile… The very knowledge of my grace had impeded me from much of a romantic love with them, even though it had made me get along with them in particular rather than with women. It was a sincere type of love that had me loving them even though I hated it.
I hated how I admired their freedom in the manner they carried themselves.
I couldn’t carry much, but the bucket of water in my hands, yet I’d already cared for you before you could carry the world in your shoulders.
I constantly got into heated arguments with men, that I couldn’t even attempt to see the beauty in my counterpart. All because for the most part, I was conflicted by my love for you.
In re-learning this love I learned how the African man had redefined his sense of worth.
In isiNguni we say, “ubuhle bendoda ziinkomo zayo.” Translated, “the beauty of a man is his cows.” It imaginably traumatized the man, when he found himself unable to provide the modern family with his cows. Although “cows” in isiNguni could very well have meant “wealth,” a word used to describe quality in any context.
For instance, when the soul of a man was traded as a slave for the material realm, he stopped carrying his family value(s) on his shoulders and started caring for the quantity of things that didn’t ensure the quality of love he had for neither them nor himself.
Man of the modern family developed a poor behaviour that women subsequently accepted as his beauty. Instead of cows it was the car, the amount of bottles at the bar, and the monthly allowance for weave and manicure appointments that made him worthy of her… Time. Things visibly impermanent and feasibly unpleasant were a fair trade for her low standardized world-view.
Over time, the notion of his beauty got so distorted that he literally became beautiful. He paid for attention by paying more attention on his looks for women that he wasn’t even matured enough to look after. He had a disturbed masculine mentality or a mental masculinity that conflicted with the reality of his self-worth.
Realizing my self-worth – the goddess within – I needed to see the god in his uncosciousness for the sake of your consciousness.
I needed to learn through my growing around boys and in meeting men, that first and foremost your beauty had not eroded with time. It might not have been cows nor land any longer; but it was your psyche when you’d speak your mind, and willingness to listen and ‘spend’ time to know her that be-trayed your wealth. It was for upbringing that I was able to behold my own beauty in someone else’s sun, through our willingness to reflect two sides of the same coin in the foreign exchange of family value(s).
Thence I mused, that it was a man from a psychospiritually wealthy home who must have been taught true self-worth.
And a man who knows himself wouldn’t – even from a ‘poor background’ – be intimidated by a woman who was sure of her own self.
He would be able to give a kind of support that money couldn’t buy. Have a wisdom that predates academia. And a will to leave a will that no man could rob from his story.
I hope you grow to invest in your dreams with the will of your forefathers and the love of your mother, for family value(s) is your beauty, and your beauty your worth.
You’re gold babe.
Ma’…
.NobeNguni Nozulu

Original Poem can be found on: http://tobes23.wordpress.com/2013/07/25/ubuhle-bendoda/

Njilo's Beautiful Ride

If ever-in my body-it was hard to find, my soul anymore or this twisted mid of mine, this is what I'd tell you-given that I knew I'd be gone...this is my goodbye or rather 'I've been waiting for so long...'

...to tell you how you make my heart, never before have I shivered as I delivered-released flows like a river, of how much I really like you, that all I ever wanted...was to have myself inside of you, pulling a freestyle among you very thoughts, if I was rich, it's this pure heart I'd wish I'd bought. I've been acting weird-on the run now, 'Pac told me fuck the world-I'm bout to cum now...all I wanted was you to know me so true, as one person who knew too much about how I move; I talk shit yea but I've been watching you too, how it's heartbreaking when you feel something unusual, how my hearts breaking when I fail to describe how much I'd like to feel inside for you...started when all you wanted to do was break a sweat, my water broke and I told God that I was in-debt; I saw you working-wanted to cry, you're that "picked just for a King" type of apple of God's eye. You're hard to fathom as a human who happened to pass the same halls that I walk, difference being that you open your own doors. I believe that I love and love stupidly; you caught my eye-I feel today I got hit by the intelligence cupid. Point of this right here...is that I like you.. so much I couldn't see myself telling you the truth, originally it was a poem about how beautifully slow you blink...now it's like this is how really slow I think...now I feel that I really need a drink..right now if I was white I probably be pink...because I'm hoping that this is the part where you start smiling that beautiful smile, perfectly curved lips blessed upon this sense of grace. While I make one last wish hoping you could hug me with radiance exhuming out the light of your face...telling me how you feel too...'cause if you didn't get jack all you need to know is...I like you...a lot...and I'm praying that you like me too.

-#PaperChaseMemoirs-

A late night love thing

I can't do it. Lord knows we never chose it, I choose to hand you happiness on a silver platter with roses. I choose to be a user of drugs only produced by you dear. Your breath leaves your body so it ought to be apart of me, you not in my life...I'm sorry, I can't let it be...one sided love story, where two people would stand normally...I choose to take a stand and demand that I have more of thee. I love you not. Neither would I die for you, but right now you have my heart...and that way, I cannot lie to you. I lie in bed night. As you do in yours, difference is, you're asleep, your mind is too...mine is at war. I'm convicted with conflictions of parts in mind where I'm kissing you, but lo' and behold the lows in my life see me missing you. Should I shout it out, bellow to the crowd, that you're the queen of my heart? Or should I let my heart beat, because my heartbeat speaks and I consider that loud. You have me.When you giggled as I spoke. If your love had hands, it has me by the throat. I hate to gloat. Love is all I'll know 'till I'm 6 feet deep, or a beggar within the streets...or the moment our lips meet. It feels like I can't just stop thinking about you..so please help me out and don't allow me to.

-#PaperChaseMemoirs-