the sound emanates
lazily tumbling out from hungry bellies
a haunting bellows forth
Vuvuzela's lament
Rumbling around a mere reminder
unobtrusive significance
Shape up or ship . . .
the Vuvuzelas lament
Lamentations for fallen
some dead and/or buried
yet educating from beyond grave's faces
other's sacrificially chasing pig's skins
OurStory lost culture
now we happily
replace toyi toyi for diski and remixed 'waka's "
Toyi emoncipated bodies and physicalities
yet Diski further reeks ecconomic slavery
world machine tools - foolish Tom-foolery
Sunday, June 20, 2010
kumbaya?
He that eats out of dustbins is not without an inheritance.
The chill of the biting cold winter morning pierce course, broken flesh
familiar, is the feel of crusty bread against cracked lips.
Banished from regular civilization are the modern day 'lepers' of society.
Such is the culture of a brainwashed generation.
Vast amounts of information passes through the eye of a needle within a split second
Action arrives before understanding.
Shallow reasoning takes away from the experience of learning.
A culture of greed, leaves the weak impoverished and the truth becomes a formula-
'a means to an end'
The environment is merely a reflection of filthy hearts and the weather a precipitation of clouded thoughts.
The scent of peace lingers in the distance, yet the stench of chaos is ever present.
Lamentations of the poor fall on deaf ears and their pleas are without pardon.
A reduction of man to canine existence is a mystery unraveled through history.
Plain truth can be heard in the sparks that fly from fires that light up the slums.
City whores run governments from their knees and determine legislature on their backs;
tho their status remains unchanged.
The lies and deceit of the rich & powerful, is pitched against the
nobility and humility of the poor & weak.
© 2009 J Allotey
The chill of the biting cold winter morning pierce course, broken flesh
familiar, is the feel of crusty bread against cracked lips.
Banished from regular civilization are the modern day 'lepers' of society.
Such is the culture of a brainwashed generation.
Vast amounts of information passes through the eye of a needle within a split second
Action arrives before understanding.
Shallow reasoning takes away from the experience of learning.
A culture of greed, leaves the weak impoverished and the truth becomes a formula-
'a means to an end'
The environment is merely a reflection of filthy hearts and the weather a precipitation of clouded thoughts.
The scent of peace lingers in the distance, yet the stench of chaos is ever present.
Lamentations of the poor fall on deaf ears and their pleas are without pardon.
A reduction of man to canine existence is a mystery unraveled through history.
Plain truth can be heard in the sparks that fly from fires that light up the slums.
City whores run governments from their knees and determine legislature on their backs;
tho their status remains unchanged.
The lies and deceit of the rich & powerful, is pitched against the
nobility and humility of the poor & weak.
© 2009 J Allotey
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Poly's Eerie Belly - Emon Fire
Eerie as motions slowed, symbols en-route directing caution
Impeding the dual passage was ‘impending expansion’
Robotic control- stop!
Go! Rumbling and we crawled into a steady cruise
Jolted into semi-consciousness by the odd imperfection on the uneven tarmac
Awakening – music by delegation
I-open to distant lights beckoning
Welcome is orchestrated by a cosmic spattering of rushing lights
Feverently they seemingly dizzify, Acting ‘Town Criers’
Question Cries out allowed,
Yet Answer lies just beyond yonder
frustrated Myopia then fuels Mr Antics
Ohh Man the trixx (poly in nature) of Empty Vessel’s expongent Bursts
So we now encounter noise – Termed Blackholes Back Hose
Suppressing all ideologies of illumination
Enlist Porn, of which few dare ingest
Youth them minds need condomise , protection on the future
Mass conception buttered into play-play, greenhouse researchers
From half-baked exhaustHeAD . . .
Lights out Again! Till enlightment
I PaUsE!!
Impeding the dual passage was ‘impending expansion’
Robotic control- stop!
Go! Rumbling and we crawled into a steady cruise
Jolted into semi-consciousness by the odd imperfection on the uneven tarmac
Awakening – music by delegation
I-open to distant lights beckoning
Welcome is orchestrated by a cosmic spattering of rushing lights
Feverently they seemingly dizzify, Acting ‘Town Criers’
Question Cries out allowed,
Yet Answer lies just beyond yonder
frustrated Myopia then fuels Mr Antics
Ohh Man the trixx (poly in nature) of Empty Vessel’s expongent Bursts
So we now encounter noise – Termed Blackholes Back Hose
Suppressing all ideologies of illumination
Enlist Porn, of which few dare ingest
Youth them minds need condomise , protection on the future
Mass conception buttered into play-play, greenhouse researchers
From half-baked exhaustHeAD . . .
Lights out Again! Till enlightment
I PaUsE!!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
My Distant Sister ~ Xolile Sizephe ~
Ten crippled someone was dialled but no phone rang. No one came charging in while the lights were out in her room… damn
The vibrations of her silent phone call shook my subconscious and lead me to that the unseen crime scene where the white outlines of childhood died. I Took a look at cadaver and what I saw was tell signs of struggle: wet lines that ran from eye to jaw, I singled out helplessness as the cause, next I came across puddles of tears drops, evidence of broken hearts and dejected dreams, so I followed these forlorn streams to blue coloured arms hidden under the long sleeves’ of cover ups, lies and social awkwardness to elude the questions and fuss.
The pieces were falling into place this child’s damp and aged face and eyes look like they have stared the devil in the face… maybe they have because she closes her eyes but doesn’t fall asleep. in fear of falling further when he creeps into dreams that aren’t mothered by imagination. Her nightmares trickle into reality. She is incomplete as her soul is filled with holes but I can’t get a ballistic match, I can’t dust the fingerprints on her thighs, I can’t calm her and tell her it will be okay when she cries. Father give her strength to make that call and forgive us all for simply listening and not acting. I can’t continue my investigation I can’t get her testimony cause the emotions of hate she feels fall out the jurisdiction of my page! But I can hold her hand lovingly in prayers and hug her tight never wanting to let go of my distant sister in my hopes will she heal only tomorrow knows.
Case closed
BrokeNscribE
© 2009 X Sizephe
The vibrations of her silent phone call shook my subconscious and lead me to that the unseen crime scene where the white outlines of childhood died. I Took a look at cadaver and what I saw was tell signs of struggle: wet lines that ran from eye to jaw, I singled out helplessness as the cause, next I came across puddles of tears drops, evidence of broken hearts and dejected dreams, so I followed these forlorn streams to blue coloured arms hidden under the long sleeves’ of cover ups, lies and social awkwardness to elude the questions and fuss.
The pieces were falling into place this child’s damp and aged face and eyes look like they have stared the devil in the face… maybe they have because she closes her eyes but doesn’t fall asleep. in fear of falling further when he creeps into dreams that aren’t mothered by imagination. Her nightmares trickle into reality. She is incomplete as her soul is filled with holes but I can’t get a ballistic match, I can’t dust the fingerprints on her thighs, I can’t calm her and tell her it will be okay when she cries. Father give her strength to make that call and forgive us all for simply listening and not acting. I can’t continue my investigation I can’t get her testimony cause the emotions of hate she feels fall out the jurisdiction of my page! But I can hold her hand lovingly in prayers and hug her tight never wanting to let go of my distant sister in my hopes will she heal only tomorrow knows.
Case closed
BrokeNscribE
© 2009 X Sizephe
Thursday, November 12, 2009
... ~ Joseph Nii Allotey ~
who cares if lil children are dying,
afterall we watch their mother's crying.
we kick em in their stomachs even as they are dying
and look upon their infants as tho they are prying.
who dares accuse the other of lying,
when secretly both parties are smiling.
there is no solution, remedy, or resolution.
must wars continue without absolution
or are all our hopes and dreams tied to an illusional evolution?
© 2009 J N Allotey
afterall we watch their mother's crying.
we kick em in their stomachs even as they are dying
and look upon their infants as tho they are prying.
who dares accuse the other of lying,
when secretly both parties are smiling.
there is no solution, remedy, or resolution.
must wars continue without absolution
or are all our hopes and dreams tied to an illusional evolution?
© 2009 J N Allotey
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