LOVE DISEASES THAT WOMEN HAVE

• Being a kept woman
• Keeping a man [or partner] (paying his way) as a woman
• The love of men who love women
• Women who love too much
• Women who ‘lay me down as a doormat for you’
• Women who want to control men
• Women who don’t love themselves
• Women who pretend things are fine when they are not
• Women who bury their heads in the sand
• Vat and Sit
• Women who love many people at once

• Women who kill and/or those who hate men
• Women who love abusers and being addicted to abuse
• Women who love ‘going to the gutter’ in their anger
• Woman with blind love and loyalty
• Women who self destruct (booze, drugs etc)

 

What do you think is your disease?

The Indelible Truths of a Woman Scorned

The indelible truths of a woman scorned seduce most parts of neglected elements. They melodiously shape and define journeys travelled to circumstances that form pillars that hold every character in place. When will we learn the hardships of courage and strength?! The teaching of introspection and significance is a gift many fail to find. Women remain in circular mazes in a mesmerisation of what could have been. It is a choice many of us fail to make when we are drowning in facts we knew were bound to happen. I tend to wonder if this is proof of our nature. This is the nature to settle in conditions that compromise our own realisation of our absolute greatness. We carry heavy loads and are still able to give with hoping and yearning hearts; to hope to erase many situations we have been lent by women who birthed us all. Our own sorrows are seven times bigger than one generation before us who carry a load before them. The beauty of knowledge has its flaws when women gather and share their lives. In cultured surroundings of marvellous wines and delicious meals the only common ground is the juiciness concurrence. Women try to be deep and get muddled in meaningless depth. In tales told by those who come from all corners of this republic, the face of homelands and townships and the face of suburbia and greenery they all fade before possibilities are real. Many find homes in comfort zones; where not a single truth is comfortable at all. In fears of admitting imperfections to the demise of sisterhood; supple foundations are built which continue to construct walls that are clear to fall. In an era where the fortunate award of being able to humbly guide and direct the aloof; the shame of genuine appearance cowardly fails. Dearest woman our vigour is not recognised in those we choose to keep but rather in the ability to constantly recognise “self” in positions we are given to constantly learn and nourish our growth. The growth that will eventually help us realise our ultimate peace. When we fail to capture this simple notion we tend to embark on journeys and experiences that occur time and time again to our downfall.  The awesomeness of emancipation is a splendour that cannot be overlooked. The ability to live in a time that allows each one to articulate and to be every aspect our mothers were never allowed to be is such a beautiful blessing.

Controversial realities tend to hinder substance. When in essence the universe places most in times that beckon weakness those are the times women rise. In harmonious agreement the testimonies of similar experiences subsist.  Heartache and pain, influential professions and minding homes as well as the similarities of stories of love and romance harness every character of our existing.  Conceivably the companion of blame always is an authentic dweller. When lessons are not depicted from life encounters especially those that harbour decisions that were made with the belief of good intention. Accountability is a meaningful concept that is mostly shun upon as the simplicity of transferring emotion to fault is easier to handle. The embracing of own dysfunction is a wisdom that youth fall short to comprehend. Little women always vandalize, the beautiful ones always destroy and only when the important aspects of sense and perhaps at the same time misunderstandings are removed that is when the realisation of self acknowledgment is attained.  In most state of affairs only the bad fundamentals are a focus and are mostly blanketed by blame.  The broken hang their heads in the sky waiting for someone to tell them how marvellous they are. 

The ideas do not precede time; they instead seem to constantly foretell the same story in different periods through unique experiences.  To identify being caught up in a maze of the same tribulations of women who came before us and of those who came before them is an initiation awoken by the knack of acknowledgment and not of fear. To search for parts that are neglected in our lifetime without even being aware of their reality is such a throbbing matter. It eludes the ability to reach ultimate contentment. It hurts loved ones and it seats us in situations that deter true happiness and joy. When self gratification is sought through malicious avenues humility becomes the hand that calms. The hand that calms in many situations is not in a lovely and nurturing way it rather tames and places you in a corner where finally all that has been avoided is brought to light and urgently needs to be tackled. Women only learn when all that could have possibly gone wrong has surfaced. In truth all that should happen shall come to pass but it is in how it is received that defines many differences among women.

An epiphany   that has become central is resolution in own strength. The amounts of times that we have embarked in relations that eat away at all the daring and self-belief we have built within normally requires only an occurrence in a lifetime. That once off occurrence has the ability to rattle and disturb probable progression of self-fulfilment. The beauty of bewilderment is the component of awareness that surrounds it. Nothing happens without some inclination of how things in the end could be.  Like puzzle pieces that gradually begin to form a picture of regret and remorse the honesty of instinct is that we probably knew. The longing of belonging and affirmation is only a thief of growth. Even in prayer we can seek for a grounding path that alleviates the loudness of doubt and in peace we can claim only the goodness of all that takes place. When we miss opportunities to avoid the wrong we learn how to love incorrectly, to build homes incorrectly, how to wrongfully appreciate ourselves and we learn to neglect ourselves. Being alone tends to have a misconception about it.

Dearest woman do all that needs to be done because it is absolutely defined not purely for face value. Bid all that the past has harmed farewell, bow down to events that have hurt and scorned peace and soak in the lessons that need to be learnt. Never abandon the parts that also need nurture from within.  The indelible truths of a woman scorned seduce most parts of neglected elements.

DIE ANOTHER DAY

The oddity of being consumed by beliefs and non-beliefs tend to knock you down at times. To make plans is a genuine flaw when life takes over, I have come to realise that. I LIVE TO DIE ANOTHER DAY-I live to truly die another day. Sometimes the universe needs to break us down a couple of times to remind us who we truly are; our power and our faith. I am not trying to box what is sacred into good or bad but rather explain to myself what seems to not make sense in my context. When we tend to analyze what is beyond our control we tend to end up tangled in difficulties created by the power of our thoughts and experiences. When sense does not make sense I now know to LET IT GO.  Perhaps throwing it right back into its creativity might seem cowardly but the character of braveness is personified by admittance of not knowing. In the biggest ruts is where we find growth and in the biggest of potholes is where serenity may reside.  In my recent crash of emotional sanity I can testify that life means that journeys begin to the roads of unexpected unknowns and that self acceptance and self reception is protocol for divinity of self awareness. Through Prayer and Peace is where we are reminded of God and the Godly who inhabit our lives and ALL that lives and ALL that is no longer living. In awe of all that I have ESCAPED I still breathe in the winds of wisdom and I quench all withered life from the Almighty’s words. Having FLEED from all that could hold me back I still ignite the fires within me and I build on the earthly foundations of teachings written for me. I have reached a place where I need to be in agreement with self that I live to die another day and till that day comes I need to be the GREATNESS I am DESTINED to be. I marvel at the partnership of the betterment of many which is great enrichment and fertility of the mind. I now recognise my blessings and I hold testimony to even my weakest and gentle parts being blessed and righteous.  I have found spaces within where the blurry are made clear and with time they shall become clearer; in heartfelt lows where my heart nearly gave up and caved in. When we turn to words translated to prayer and still we do not know but in those very words we learn there is life. The world unimagined and imaginable where faith defines, where comfort soothes, where the mind excels, where the living do not know and where life exists HERE and THERE......

In my recent crash of emotional sanity I can testify that life means that journeys begin to the roads of unexpected unknowns and that self acceptance and self reception is protocol for divinity of self awareness. Through Prayer and Peace is where we are reminded of God and the Godly who inhabit our lives and ALL that lives and ALL that is no longer living.

I LIVE TO DIE ANOTHER DAY

THE SULLNESS OF RESENTFUL BITTER WARMTH

This love never needed convincing or courtship let alone years of friendship or loyalties it simply just suited the times perhaps placed by fate and destiny. She was my soul and I was her mate; a beauty well written which was never seen nor felt – THE SULLNESS OF RESENTFUL BITTER WARMTH. A relationship created by virtual portals that deceived longings that were unreachable and unreal. We felt “things” in a time never lived nor held. I fell in love with a being I never knew which was the reality of interactions that evoked emotions I myself never knew I could feel. I fell in love with a being that died before meetings were met or words were spoken. This love was not a love that was tainted by infections of romance and sheeted intimacies. It was pure relations for betterment of self and spirit. We laughed about things we thought we knew and awarded ourselves the appreciations of how the sun rose on either half of our worlds. We philosophised the dysfunctional functionalities of primary principals and at the same time taught each other bad habits of swearing, of loving and of self affirmation.

In simple terms I had found the greatest and healthiest relationships and that has baffled me for years because it existed yet it did not. I had the best friend God could have ever blessed me with and I NEVER had the opportunity to meet her. We lived in a virtual world where we shared and bared ourselves to each other yet in the flesh we did not even know what or who we were. I have decided to label it an insane myth of my lifetime.

She died before possibilities were real!

Happy 30^th Chikita!

I AM A POET

There is a Sotho “idiom” that says  “Lefu ke ngwetsi  ya malapa ohle” which means that death is the bride of every home (I stand to be corrected).  When I first heard this I realised that my loss was not one that I alone had encountered nor would it be my last. These words blessed me as much as they crippled me. For many months I had lost a sense to write, to recite and to realise the words that resided within me. Silence was the devourer of creative truths and pain was the friend that kept me company for many days. I had lost the most important man in my life; my mentor and my best friend – MY FATHER.

Through his wisdom and his many teachings I have found strength again.  Through his living soul I have learnt that many times we are dead even though we are living. I have learnt that we confine our potential by fears that cloud our abilities to be anything and everything we possibly can THINK and DREAM to be.  

I know my potential and I believe in it. I have awoken from a deep horrible slumber where truths have come through dreams and walking angels. The words that exist within me are ALIVE again. I come as a woman driven by the love of poetry.

For the love of the Spoken Word.

Ke Mofokeng wa Mahoana

Maotwana Finyela-Kgaitsedi tsa bo tlalana

Ba ja mmutla ole motala

Ba ka ka Dinaledi

Ba jele mmutla

Ke bo Mahoana

                               Ke Phoka!

QUARTER LIFE CRISIS

This thing called AGE drags like sagging breasts of an 80 year old
AGING is painful like a love that catches you off guard
Like a song you play over and over till you can’t stand to hear it no more
Its deafening sound fades with echoes of hallow depth
AGE is a reasoned reasonable basis
It makes you think of supposed importance
Like procreation, elevation, and presentation
Of self awareness things like introspection
When you realise that you’ve reached the AGE where
Independence and Power matter no more
Where profession is no longer relevance
But in essence a home with babies, puppies and lilies
Really mean dreams that matter no matter
The divinity of our destinies when they choke you
Recognizing the apprehension of AGE
That makes you stay in unhappy relations
Trying to outrun loneliness, trying to beat
The progressing nature of AGE waits for no one
Like opportunities that happen once in a lifetime
Like the day you are born and the day you die
AGING in search of mending broken hearts
Longing to rectify pain inflicted by egotistical AGE
Knowing that at 27 I will be 30 in less than 3 years
AGE is a thing that scares you when you are alone
Silence entertains the loudness of authenticity
When meaningless bliss becomes the enemy
The sullenness of resentful bitter warmth
Where love matters more than anything in the world
My lover who is like well written dimensions
Like sense for common sense
AGE is the stability of mentality and spirituality
It is maturity and surety of self indulge and pleasantries
Of knowing the known knowledge of knowing you knew nothing at all
AGE is humility and unity of self love and lover’s love
Accepting weakness to learn strength
This thing called AGE is like dimpled thighs at 45
Like a grey hair at 25
Like a defining moment at 35
Time evolving into significant significance
AGE is developed growth

I WANTED HER DEAD

Never mind the highs and lows I shared with her

I refused to remember her love

Her love like a blessing was warm, unseen, felt and sure

Her insanity made me forget her

I now took her love for granted like the summer breeze

Mother that touch grew infuriating, restless being very uneasy

Joy

Tears

Bliss

Calamity

The magic called you remained

The memory of you remained-flowing over calm waters

Your love still remains so true

Still I wanted you dead!

It pained me the disorientation

My greatest love

Lost like the many planets

Motherly tender has faded

Raw and honest your love

Your mind stole it and you chose to forget me

But here in my heart you remain

In the arms that are home your insanity snatched me

Mother please remember me

You hummed me to sleep on your back

You took fists and words whilst you played with me in disarray

Against the world you and I

Fighting against the strong wind yet still pushing forward

I wanted you dead to show you I loved you

To end pain, misery to end THE PAIN and MISERY

Out of love, my dear mother, I wanted you dead!