Paint Can (A few lyrics from a song I wrote on my guitar)

You have a prosthetic personality

to reconcile your broken sense of originality 

so paint that bullshit gold

It still wont mask the stench and rot of your useless soul

and while you’re at it, paint your smile into a frown

cause I can tell that’s how you feel beneath your crown


You’re a knock off Van Gogh, who wouldn’t spare an ear to listen

You’re a piston in a disappearing system 

And I’ll love you when you stop playing sad clown

, I’ll love you when you put the paint can down.  

Vessels with infinite space (Senile Ramblings from a wise old homeless man pt 5)

I dream carelessly with disregard for the impossible

I live vicariously through the wind that touches every breath

and I leave footsteps on every lung

I have placed my palm on every corner

and I keep on running and running

breathe me in deeply like a welcomed intruder

let me get lost in the caverns of your chest

We’re all deep but we underestimate our depths

We’re all walking Bermuda triangles waiting for the right person to get lost in us

We’re oceans carefully disguised as puddles and I’ll happily

drown in all of us if it means that we all see and recognize that more

That great abstraction that we mistake our hunger for

We want more inside and we try to supplement our thirsts with possessions

that we out grow on a daily basis

We act like over grown giants trying to fit into the tiny clothes

that we first wore when we came into this planet

We’re doughnuts, trying to fashion out hole plugs from all we own


I’ll live vicariously through the wind and carry every wing to freedom

My dreams fill in the holes for me

Because the truth is we’re not as deep as much as we are empty

And nothing can keep the pain from sinking in


Least of all – all you own –

Earth has become a home for insatiable vacuums.




Haunted House

Have you ever been afraid of sitting down to write something, where it was not the process of writing that you feared but the words themselves. The thoughts in between the words. I’m so afraid that what I write will come out so filtered and disingenuous that it wont have my own voice. I’ve stopped trying to  make my words mimic me. I have stopped trying to be a literary ventriloquist. These words should not be faint echo’s but tiny sentient symbols with their own voices that represent me. Still, I have been so haunted lately..      

In the cove of my words Vol.1

In the cove of my words,

they’re warm enough to keep me cocooned against the


I’m a deserted island – I feel sorry for any woman

who dares to maroon her heart on my shores

Beneath my beach sands, my dreams lie

buried restlessly

There were village shamans hidden in the thick

of my tropical forests, doing death dances

to resurrect them

They failed and left with the wind and ocean tide,

Mother nature saw fit to drown the villagers who

occupied my temple in rain and ocean water

Your heart will starve here,

It will only have silence to accompany it.

Food and love is scarce.

A view point of the moonlight cascading off the sea

seen from my tallest hill is the only solace I can provide you with

Your heart will die here

Her heart some how survived,

its light revived the plant life in my forests

her sunshine repaired the beauty in my shores

and it can be seen in the daylight, radiating

More importantly she resurrected my dreams,

They sprouted out of my sands like factory workers

holding protests…

In the cove of my words,

They’re warm enough to keep me sheltered from night.

Life boats

Its strange how a simple phrase, song, sentence or idea can save your life in the same way a friend can pull you out of the path of a speeding vehicle or catch you when you fall. I know two quotes or ideas that have kept me alive, kicking ass and succeeding. These are my life boats, they’ve kept me from drowning in myself, drowning in my thoughts and drowning in society and life. I hold on to them after being kicked off my shipwrecked dreams.

“All I Am is All I have” 

This quote was inspired by a song by the rusty pelicans featuring one of my favourite rap groups, Atmosphere. Every time I fell to displacement, confusion, betrayal or persecution, this song served as a reminder that I have to stay true to myself. Its a cold lonely world sometimes and this reinforced the idea that I had to get over the wounds on my back and I had to reinvest more time into myself. I held on to it when the world became cold, lonely and scary. All you truly own in this life is yourself because in all nakedness, that’s all you came in this world with. You can sacrifice all your possessions but not that. That’s a worse fate than death – never betray yourself.


“Life is what distracts you from death”   – Sage Francis

This quote was inspired by another song title written by Sage Francis. I’m not sure if he was the original author but this is where I discovered it. The song itself never meant much but the title spoke volumes to me. I use it as a signature to most of my emails. It serves as a reminder to live and forget everything else because nothing is more important and precious than life. Some of us get so distracted that we forget to live and essentially we die while we still breathe. When the spectre of suicide speaks to you, do not satisfy death and your enemies. Throw yourself back into that ocean and swim. That’s what I try to do and when it feels as if my arms are too tired to carry me through the water, my life boats are always near by to give me aid and support. What are yours?

Polite Chapter 1 (Mother of Gifts)

She referred to light bulbs as artificial sunbeam emitters, they helped scare away the dark but like everything else that was synthetic, they had no nutrition or life in them. Just like the food we ate. We had to follow every meal up with a strict regiment of supplements and medication.

It all started when more and more cases of malnutrition and scurvy started turning up. Due to the pollution, climate change  and the country running out of its natural water resources, it became harder and harder to feed the general human population. Natural agriculture has suffered the worst in these past two decades and we couldn’t escape our human compulsion to play God where nature has ‘failed’. We found a way to emulate photosynthesis in the absence of sunlight by modifying how chlorophyll reacts to all light. We engineered plants that didn’t need any water. We made vegetables that were as durable as weeds. The experiments had garnered more causalities than starvation ever could. The first batch of synthetic fruits and vegetables were deployed into the market. They were freakishly large in size and highly economical but after a few months of what had seemed to be a successful cure to world hunger, more and more cases of cancer and food related disease started showing up.  The company in charge suffered millions from lawsuits and settlements. It eventually filed bankruptcy and was liquidated. Another company picked up the tender from the government and succeeded in making synthetic safe foods. Essentially they had no nutritional value, you’d be better off eating cardboard but they quieted and filled restless stomachs and offered consumers the illusion that they were being well fed.

Nozipho had been going against her own body’s need for sleep for the third night in a row. She was dizzy with fatigue and sleep hunger. Clad in her dirty lab coat under those twinkling light bulbs. The laboratory was owned by The South African Industry of Synthetic Agriculture and Farming – SAISAF. They had successfully cloned more than a thousand units in healthy livestock and edible  artificial food and veg. Nozipho was working on a formula by hand. She could no longer keep the pencil steady. Her body had succumbed to stress and frustration. The lab was understaffed and understocked. Generous funding had been dispensed by the government but it filtered down through the hierarchy of  corrupt officials and CEOs. The sum that was finally received by the laboratory was barely enough to cover the expenses of the supplies needed to undertake the project. It could barely afford a competent staff. To her credit, Nozipho wasn’t one of those incompetents. She was brilliant enough to afford herself a better salary than this but modest enough to weigh her successes by her own goals.  Here she was, sure she was going insane, all she could see when she closed her eyes were those damn formulae.  All she had to keep her company were those twinkling artificial sunbeam emitters and spiders. She didn’t mind the spiders. She felt sad when ever she had to kill a particularly venomous one though. The daddy long legs were always spared. She had started talking to them tonight and after she realized the presence of her own insanity – she laughed out loud. “‘Time for another cup of coffee”, she said to herself. She dropped the pencil from her shaky grip, there was a dent in between her thumb and index finger where the pencil was tightly held. She could feel her finger and thumb throb with a slight dull pain with each beat her heart took. A discarded copy of today’s iteration of the ‘Daily Sun’ laid next to the kettle, a tired tabloid newspaper that had somehow survived South Africa’s new stringent laws on journalism. The government could dictate exactly what journalists could and could not report through an organization called ‘Watchdog’. Many journalists could not swallow their pride nor integrity, so many of them opted to flee the country or find another means for income. Nozipho sat there wondering how this old rag survived that long. The front page headline reads ‘Polymorph rapes a gogo (grandmother)’ ..

Dr Anton Frueh was a lower rank Nazi scientist who some how escaped from World War 2 Germany to seek refuge in South Africa. He was a true believer in the convictions and ideals of the Fuhrer so he naturally fitted comfortably in apartheid South Africa. He made a family and passed down all that Nazi Germany stood for. Frueh was a brilliant scientist but it took two generations after him to produce a spawn that was as equally as talented as him in a lab coat. Philipp Frueh, was born in South Africa on the date of the 21st of August, 1987.  As a youth he would spend a lot of time around his grandfather, listening to old war stories about his home country. Philip was intrigued by the scrapbook photos of old Germany. He liked how clean and disciplined the fascists were. He owned a large swastika poster along with a flag of the old Afrikaaner National Party, both hanging above his bed. Philipp had taken an early liking to science, he was an avid collector of science fiction novels and comic books. He hated how Germany was portrayed by American writers, especially how it was almost parodied in the Captain America comic books. He recognized this as propaganda but what he took away from this was the idea of the super soldier. As he grew up and studied the ideologies of old Germany and its philosophies, he came across Nietzsche and the idea of the  Übermensch. His Grandfather saw the brilliance in young Philipp, he directed him into following his footsteps. Philipp studied hard and he was a superb student. He entered and left the University of Pretoria with high honours in Biochemistry and physics. With Degree in hand, the world waited in open arms for him to submit the goals of him and his forefathers…