Global Fight Against Racism

Writing is Easy, Writing is Hard

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

To ‘feel’ is a constant state-of-being
To ‘think’ is to breathe while surviving reality

To ‘reflect’ is a path taken only by the wise
To ‘depict’ is a portrayal of reality analysed

To ‘write’ is to yield a paper and pen
To ‘type’ is to shield from our battles and demons

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

Words can tear apart but words can also mend
Words can be composed and also comprehended

Words can unite but sometimes divide
Words are up to the reader to decide

What do writers ‘do’ for ‘work’?
Writers ‘do work’ by working words.

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard …

I just stumbled for a minute
Then came back to it

When it comes to format I am sometimes unsure
If I can accurately articulate my thoughts through words

Writing is a form of action and expression
With apt timing it is dialogue and communication

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But from the mind is somewhat hard

It is hard to describe a transformative experience
It is easy for the heart to yearn such experience

Writing is easy when it comes from the heart
But being mindful of format… is the hard yet fruitful part…

 

MG

 

South Africa

I come from a nation large and strong
Where we raise our voices in song
Sing praises unto the heavens and earth
With a dozen languages of different words

Our people, we know of tragedy and pain
We know more of loss than of gain
Yet we seek not to dominate
We seek a commitment to cultivate

We have the land, the labour, the love
We have sun and moon, is that not enough?
We have seeds sown all over our nation
So why, may I ask, are we still in recession?

Since 94 we have overthrown Apartheid
We are living legacies of Mandela’s fight
Our existence in itself is what makes us free
So why are people suddenly chasing money?

All of you South Africans are smart enough to
Stand there and tell me Zuma did this to you
And if we as a People claim to fight corruption
Then is not desire for wealth simply giving up our freedom?

I say this to you, my country, we do not need money right now
We will need it in the future, but first take a look around
You see that backyard of yours, that you forgot was even there?
Well that’s a perfect spot for a home garden, use the sunshine and the air

You there, standing by the window with nothing in your hand,
Go to your yard and look around, find a plot of sand
Take your fingers and your palm and lay them on the ground
Now you can draw a picture there by wiggling your hand around

And you, Mr, Mrs, Miss whoever you are
With your fancy trucks and empty unused cars
Why don’t you get up and register those wheels
To collect soap, food, and deliver some meals

We as a nation, we have been through much
And this lockdown has been a little tough
But remember, we’ve also overcome much more
Than just staying home and closing a door

For all the sacrifices our ancestors have made
We must have compassion, we should not complain
We as a nation have only one mission
To consider and respect each other’s fight for freedom

I have only one request today, my beloved South Africa
That we take one minute to remember Nelson Mandela
Think about why he pushed Equality instead of money
The fundamental philosophy of what it costs to be Free

South Africa, my people, my nation, my land
I wish we could help each other understand
That there is only one way to overcome mass corruption
We must be fully committed to tackling our own oppression

We must become open to change and transformation
We must set a good example for the new generations
We must become cooperative, constructive, and creative
We must focus on being productive, only in sports are we competitive

Slowly as we build ourselves, our skills, and our souls
We will see progress within the nation, and then we can make goals
We must, as People, take some responsibility
We within ourselves must have accountability

South Africa, my beloved, I pray for all of us
But mere prayers are not going to be enough
South Africa, my love, let us unite as one
Let us keep living and striving for our free-dom

 

MG

 

 

South African Freedom Day 427

Voice

You have a voice.

They will try to silence you.
They will make cacophonous noises.
They will project onto you their issues.
They will use you to fill their voids.

But,
you have a voice
that is worth being heard.
One of eloquence and poiuse
One that sings like a bird.

You have a voice
That echoes over the silence
That silences the noise
That weans off the violence.

You have a voice.

How you use it…
…is your choice.

 

MG

without a theme

Write a poem without a theme
A concoction of words across the screen
Nothing of meaning
Lacking in feeling
Write a poem that’s easier than breathing

Here’s that poem for which you asked
Wearing frivolous diction as a mask
A few minutes pass
And alas
Here’s that poem I have been tasked

What’s the purpose of this poem?
I can’t find a reason, I just don’t know
Write with the flow
And this is what shows?
What is the purpose of your poem?

There is none, as declared in the first line
Or’ve you forgotten your initial desire?
A poem to write
With nothing to describe
Such was the challenge to write these lines

Well then I thank thee for such nullity
For words drenched all over in mediocrity
For mere quantity
And no quality
Thank you for sacrificing… nullity

My dear friend, you get what you ask for
And what you required was something mediocre
You wanted nothing more
Than plain and simple words
So here’s that poem you requested before

A point you may have, my comrade, touche
Your simplicity has opened my eyes today
I’d invite you stay
A fair game you’ve played
One that ended in the word “touche”.

 

MG

 

I Come From A City Where…

I come from a city where…

Kids can make computer games
But don’t know how to ride a train

Teens can ace quantum physics
But have no clue about budget sheets

College kids can start revolutions
But with love they’ve no solution

Thirty year olds still watch cartoons
But can’t define platoon or harpoon

Forty year olds still live with mommy
But convince themselves they’re free

Fifty year olds try out kick-start companies
That last no more than fifty two weeks

The sheer existence of intelligence
If not balanced is meaningless

This city is filled with educated idiots
Whose lives rely on widgets

MG

Kindness is Not Weakness

She looked at me with insecurity in her eyes, as if pleading for sympathy.

I couldn’t.

Much as I tried to muster up a shred of compassion, she had used up the last ounce left in me. Used it up on some medial triviality that was, if anything,  inconsequential to the matter at hand.

For years, I had done my best to understand the root of the issue. For years, I had given a part of myself to her — my ears, heart, time, energy. I had been sympathetic towards experiences far out of my scope. My arms were always open for embrace, my head was always open to another perspective, but my soul was guarding my heart from digesting more than I could stomach.

Then it happened.

One day, I opened my eyes and realized that she was a living, breathing reminder of everything I had already overcome. She had the demeanor of a human, but the behaviour of what used to be my undefeated demons.

I was at the end of my tether, a tether I didn’t even know existed — perhaps very few people had ever dared reach it. Even fewer lacked the cognizance to know where my line lay.

But she, I suppose, fell into that category of “one of the fewer”.

I confronted her, of course, regarding the levels of disrespect radiating like Venus’ sulfuric acid — she didn’t “mean to”, she just couldn’t “help it”. Apparently it was my fault for letting her speak in that manner, for not defending myself.

Well my apologies for choosing to rise above the need to be unnecessarily defensive.

I took her advice, nonetheless, to prove a point. I “defended myself” by not taking blame for other people’s transgressions. This was, incidentally, viewed as “interrupting” and “not letting the other person finish speaking.” (Rambling, honestly).

Well my apologies for having self-respect and guiding a conversation instead of enabling validation. 

My tether.

How did I even let it go on so long?

Simple.

I’ve been there before.

I’ve been in her shoes before. Those juvenile, self-centered, self-indulged, narcissistic, insecure, egotistic, defensive, over-analytical, paranoid, anxious shoes.

I’ve worn something like that.

Many moons ago, but in those shoes I’ve tread those paths — climbed the mountains and rolled down cliffs, drowned in lakes and washed up on shore, broken my bones and worn them casts.

But I am not there now. Nor do I want to go back to any of it.

So when I say that I am out of sympathy, it is not selfish or uncaring. It is not callous or heartless.

It is that I will no longer allow anyone to twist something beautiful into their distorted versions of reality. I cannot fill the voids she won’t admit exist, and will not validate insecurities that are hers — not mine — to fight.

My darling, if you ever read this, I’m sorry that I’d ever let you mistake my kindness for weakness, but I’m walking away because of the strength I’ve mustered up after recovering from this battle. I can’t let you interpret my words to your advantage simply to justify the mistakes of mine you continuously repeat instead of move past. I cannot keep being the buoy you cling to when you get stranded at sea, repeatedly. It’s time for you to pull your own weight — I’ve left you with enough care packages and tools to sift through, but it’s up to you to figure out how to use them. 

You’re on your own, darling, but in a way that you need right now. 

I’ll see you on the other side.
Hope you make it out alive.

Signed with the kind of love you’ve yet to understand, 


MG

Dig Deep

My sense of belonging
Comes from deep within
Buried beneath layers of rock
Unearthed, uprooted, but strong
I wasn’t born this way, it wasn’t choice
From a young age I had to silence the voices
Of deceit, of greed, of exploitative breeds
Of those who take from me more than the ink I bleed
But did I mind? No, that innocence of mine
Had nothing to lose and everything to give to those who’d once crossed the line
Dared to venture to the other side
From shadows we don’t hide
Instead we make a fire to shine
Through the crevices of broken time
Loops, Hiding in plain sight
This illusion of a plight
To take in order to fall
Through the floor
Break down the walls
And dig holes to find what’s in store
For you, for me
For all to see
Whatever it is they seek
Those who don’t search…will never find
The truth behind the lies

MG

-April 2016