Layers — [collaborative poetry]

Layers is old, layers is new
Layers is a wish or a dream come true

Layer upon layer of sun rays reign
Upon layers and layers of fields thirsting for rain

Removing a layer, atmospheric bliss
Adding a layer, attachments to the old, reminisce

Attachments overlap as layers envelop such bliss
Enamored as its embrace intertwines the intricate

Days to months and months to years
Feeling weak while boldly blooming, the retraction ever so near

Months roll into years into decades into centuries
Time is in essence layers of existence

While the layers unravel into the heart of the known
Sensational timing within a timeless sensation grows unknown

Mysteries of layers unfurl
Enigmas of galaxies within one world

Layered over layered dust,  created from dirt
Layers merge and emerge as beauty blooms from the earth

 

Ses and MG

 

 

(click here for link to Ses’ profile)

 

 

collaborative poetry for Mental Health Awareness Month (June)

 

 

Global Fight Against Racism

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

Him

“You could have anything you want, you just need to take the first step out of the front door,” he had said to me, a long time ago. I never understood what this meant, but there he watched, from a distance. Waiting.

He was waiting for me, and he didn’t even know it.

His process of waiting, contrary to popular belief, did not consist of sitting on a rock meditating. Although, I’m sure he did do this from time to time, to cleanse his soul and spirit of unnecessary negativity infesting our planet. No, his process of waiting consisted of paving a way, of laying a foundation where I could easily maneuver myself closer to his realm.

He was never going to come to me, he’d made that clear from the start. But he’d make it immensely difficult to stay away — not in the form of an addiction, nor an obsession. Nay, I could put him aside easily and go back to my life at will. I’ve done so countless times, shuffling between him and her; you and I.

Easily.

Why? Because I enjoyed my own company as much as I enjoyed his. I didn’t like him more than I liked myself, but I didn’t like myself less than I liked him. If anything, I felt the exact same way about him as I did about me… and… he felt the exact same way about me as he did about himself.

I’ve never told anyone about him though, not in the way they’d expect, anyhow. I tried, a couple of times, but I could hear their unspoken doubts. The looks on their faces as they wondered, “you’re just two narcissists in love with the ideas of each other, aren’t you?”

I’d questioned that, myself, too. Countless times. Then I looked closer and realized that the self-love we both shared was not a result of self-hatred, it was not a projection to avoid the void. Our self-love was authentic. It was real. It was genuine.

It was…sincere.

Neither of us wanted to cause harm to the other, and neither of us placed the other on a pedestal. Yes, in public, he was the accomplished one with the experience and expertise. He was the one they would turn to in times of need. And I allowed that: he had more energy for the others than I did. He had more…charisma.

But in private, he was mine, and I was his. We were perfect reflections of each other: process of elimination cancelled out our equilateral differences, and together, we were one.

Literally, the same.

Some call it fate, some call it destiny.

I call it math.

But hey, semanitcs, right?

MG

(Creative writing: Him)