Thulisile's poems

Rivers run deeper than we think. Our problems are too big for these shores to carry so into the sea they run.

Life has never been too easy for me that's why it's too hard to fall in love. That's why I am afraid of the dark not because of the old tales our parents used to tell us but because that's where my shadows live.

Like skeletons in my wardrobe they hid every morning while I get dressed in different garments fit enough to hide my pain. Everytime when the day is over back to the shadows I go I am afraid to a point that I even wet my bed every night. They are too dark you see.

So don't be amazed when this smile turns to groans, because you'll never understand even if I try to explain so let me.

Into my shadows I run back.

Her Aura is made of poetry, wine, roses and different galaxies she has been victimized, brutalized and womanized.

She is black and blackness is in her hips, her lips are of Peculiar Centaurus.

She is the daughter of fire and sun like Phoenix she rises from the dust.Her melanin is made of centuries of Azania’s blood and mud.

Jambo, Mbote when you greet her, her sweat trails back from ancient African rivers. Her history written on the slavery ships and her ancestors names inscribed in the blue ocean.

❤️

Artists doing Artistry things❤️

Respect the position in which God places you in❤️

1300 likes thank you so much for all the support ❤️🔥🔥

"WHEN THE WIND HITS THE DRUM IN THE FOREST ALL THE TREES DANCE TO ITS RHYTHM"

"AZANIA
AZANIA
AZANIA"
HOW MANY TIMES DID WE CALL YOU AZANIA BUT YOU DID NOT BOTHER TO RESPOND
HOW MANY CHILDREN HAVE YOU LOST AZANIA
DID YOU EVEN LISTEN TO THE ECHOS OF THEIR BLOOD BREATHING AND CRYING FOR YOU
DID YOU EVER TAKE A WALK TO THE BLUE OCEAN AND FEEL THE BREEZE OF YOUR ANCESTORS
DO YOU KNOW WHY THEY WANT US TO BAPTISE OUR SINS IN THE OCEAN
WHY IS IT A SIN TO VISIT MY FATHERS GRAVE AND YET A BLESSING TO GO TO THE OCEAN
HOW MANY PEOPLE KILLED BIKO
WHERE WERE YOU AZANIA
ARE YOU WITH THEM
DO YOU KNOW THEM
WHY DID YOU LET THEM STEAL FROM YOU
WHERE IS OUR GOLD
DID THEY MISPLACE OUR DIAMONDS
AZANIA YOUR CHILDREN ARE DYING OF SICKNESS'S TOO HARD FOR THEM TO EVEN PRONOUNCE
YOUR CHILDREN ARE KILLING ONE ANOTHER AND THEY CLAIM TO BE PAN AFRIKANISTS, THEY ARE ALL BLOODY HYPROCRITS
"IMPIMPIMI DESERVES TO DIE"
WHEN WILL WE STOP CRYING
WHEN WILL THEY RETURN OUR LAND
WHEN WILL THEY RETURN THE BONES OF OUR ANCESTORS
WHEN WILL WE START DANCING AGAIN
WHEN WILL WE CHANT FOR OUR ANCESTORS
WHERE IS THE REAL MANDELA YOU BLOODY MAKHANDA?
WHAT HAPPENED TO EDUCATION BEFORE POWER YOU BLOODY STANDERD FIVE?
I AM SPEAKING IN THE TAAL OF MY COLONISES FOR I WANT NATIONS AND NATIONS TO HEAR MY CRY
AZANIA YOU HAVE FALLEN INTO DEEP SLEEP FOR THEY HAVE CLAIMED OUR BRAINS ,OUR MEMORIES ARE CAPURED IN CAGE
WE ARE JUST VICTIMS OF CIRCUMSTANCES
WHATS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MY SKIN AND HIS
OR IS IT THAT MINE HAS TRAPPED THE SANDS AND MUDS OF AFRIKA
WHATS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN GOOD AND BAD
IS IT BLACK AND WHITE?
MY HEART IS OOZING PAIN FOR THE TRUTH HAS BECOME A TABOO
"WHERE ARE YOU AZANIA"

“BLACKNEES THE POETEST”

A blue Monday morning.

That day I wore my best dress cause I knew we were gonna meet. He knockes on my door I carry my jacket in case I came back late. He grabbes my hand and we take a walk he encompasses the way, he gives me an enigmatic smile as he turns into a small bush.

I keep on following him because Im held with trust for him, we've been dating for two years now.

He increases his pace but I can't keep up all I do is to stand and ask where his taking me, he closes my mouth with his hand and pushes me down.

Now Im down all I think about is our pretty past, he places his boot on my chest I cry cause Im feeling pain, he removes it. He takes the gun from his pocket and points it on my forehead, I feel defenceless all I can see is my after life.

He laughs and I asked why?

All he does is to reap my pretty dress from my flesh, touches my p***c area and gives it a little squeeze. I can still feel my thing breathing within the anchors of his fingers. He opens my thighs and makes me a woman before time, I scream and cry until all I feel his breath all over me and the tears that have dryed up and created wax on my face. He stands up blood flows from my legs he takes a p**s and walks away.

No one believes me now because I asked for it, Im that 6months old baby who's pride was taken by a stranger and died before I could be in the world only the walls of my room can tell you more.

I am that poor old 73year old woman who stays with her son who has failed so many times in life and decided to proof his manhood on me.

I am the definition of pain, struggle and blame.

We all have become the sacrificial lambs on alters of men who want to prove that they are man enough.

The problem starts when our mothers let us share the same table with uncles who have made us women enough for their beds, when our mothers believe our fathers more than us.

We are victims and victims never win💔

I'm a nobody
Ive got scars, stitches and wounds.

Behold I have a dangerous weapon it's called a memory like a stick it beats me💔I have sleepless nights.

INGOZI, GEVAAR,DANGER!!!

muntu'ontsundu run away for my gun is loaded with wisdom that will crack open your brain and make you conscious again.

Ngiphethe isibamu that will make our lazy uncle's fetch thier land's from white Boers.

I have power instilled within me, I flow peacefully like a river carrying out the pain and tears from our neighboring societies.

Blood filled in our black mothers hearts for father's go and never return, while infants cry with empty stomachs.

I have scars, stitches and wounds❤️my scares are my stars of how I survived the past.

Afrikans vukani for our God given gifts are for sale because we are in a deep sleep!