Matters of the Heart

My heart manifests with your love

Where conditions of attacks can only make thy heart

Once upon a time you beat per minute

But exhilarating feelings made it per second

Where you only came first and we counted every heart beat

As I made it easy because I love the beat of your heart

Where it controls my being

To a point where I feel it in my home, my body, my nerves, my heart...

Rhythms of true beauty can only describe my love for you...

Listening to your heart as it beats to my favourite song...

My song of love, my song of feel, my song of spirit, my song of soul, my song of you...

Oh, I do... I do... I do... Acoooustic...

I love you too house muuusic... 

Like Father, Like Son

Like Father, Like Son

Like Father like son

Like, Father like son

Like the way you packed your bags and left…

A home, left, with my essential half, with a precious sentiment, a life changing moment…

Left with a precious sentiment, a life changing moment, left with  soul, a fire, a relationship… there you sailed away

Like Father, Like Son

Like Father Like Son

Like, Father Like Son

Like, what am I left with?

What am I like, because apparently I’m like you?

Like the way you left with a precious sentiment, a life changing moment, left with a soul, a blaze, a relationship… there you sailed away

Like Father, Like Son

You left so I’m the man of the house, the so called “father”

I’m the precious sentiment, the life changing moment, the soul, the combustion, and the relationship, what you were supposed to be…

Left with a beautiful trio, like mother, like daughter

Not being brought up by a father

But being one

Like Father, Like Son

Like, Father Like Son

Apparently I’m like you but who are you?

Left… but maybe not right

I for-give you my love

Like Father, Like Son

Like, Father Like Son

Like Father Like… maybe not like you  

I'm Not a Female

I'm not a female

I don't bear offspring

I don't produce eggs

I don't have hips, no

Because I'm not a female

I'm not cute

I'm not beautiful

I'm not voluptuous, no

Because I'm not a female

I'm pregnant with endless thoughts...

Thoughts that I've sold to produce eggs of red yolk called love

I'm a prostitute through my thoughts because I've got voluptuous hips that are filled with fat intelligence, ambition, drive and love

I'm not a female, no...

I've got internal beauty that shines through my dark toned skin

And this light, portrayed as handsome...

I do a man's job, no...

Because I'm not a female

I'm more than that, not a prostitute, no...

I'm not for sale...

Yes, I'm not a female...

My Brothers in the Streets by Wally Serote

*This is an extremely touching piece and I fell in love with it from the very first moment I read it and have been one of my favourite poems to perform...*

Oh you black boys

You thin shadows who emerge like a chill in the night,

You, whose heart-tearing footsteps sound in the night

My brothers in the streets 

Who holiday in jails, 

Who rest in hospitals, 

Who smile at insults,

Who fear the whites,

Oh, you black boys

You horde-waters that sweep over black pastures

You bloody bodies that dodge bullets

My brothers in the streets

Who booze and listen to records,
Who’ve tasted rape of mothers and sisters,
Who take alms from white hands,
Who grab bread from black mouths,
Oh you black boys,
Who spill blood as easy as saying ‘Voetsek’

Listen!
Come my black brothers in the streets,
Listen,
It’s black women who are crying.