Indelible Thoughts Anthology
A Delusion of schizophrenics
And as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no eviL I feel at home.
Tell the DeviL im leaving heaven with all its hierarchies and principalities.
Tell God I am leaving hell with all its Princes and Kings.
Wings of gold shred to pieces cus only divinity holds Prestige to such fragile materialsm
Flesh crumbles and evaporates to ashes as I transition to dark matter that one can neither own nor claim ownership to while the soul ignites to an infern of nothingness and everything that is.
The bliss of every decision I make Is echoed in whispers.
The type of poetry that gives Satan shivers
I am a composition of lost souls, a refuge for restless ancestors.
A delusion of schizophrenics within a legacy of bastards.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
An Aura that Resonates Death
Looking at the mirror and seeing different faces because I am blessed with an aura that resonates death.
Ghosts in my head screaming who am I But I Don’t want to hear the answers
As I Laugh Out The loudest to muff The desperate cries for Help.
Save me from myself because misery loves company.
Show me peace and happiness because Pain and sorrow is the only life I know.
Forgive me if I no longer recognize a friendly Veil, even roses decay in my presence… Ghosts in my head screaming who am I But I Don’t want to hear the answers…. Forgive me if I no longer recognize a friendly Veil, even roses decay in my presence
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
The True History of 2020
Government officials stealing poverty stricken citizens food parcels & selling them for cheap.
Police & military quick to shoot, assault and arrest ekasi but the privileged roam the streets in peace And exercise freedom.
That’s the untold future story of South African history written off textbooks and replaced by propagandist, politicians and heroes who sold the country out for wealth and a better standard of living.
Society more concerned about access to cigarettes & booze, protesting about surfing & jogging meanwhile the majority are losing their jobs because of the colour of their skin.
Some employees exposed at work during a global pandemic forced to choose between their jobs or their lives & Senior citizens standing in long queues for social grants will be such stories told in silence in order not to displease masters against the true liberation of people.
Possible cure growing in our backyard but we rolled out a modified TB treatment trial – such is the life of a puppet. Why cure an illness when you can treat it and bill society every step of the way to recover the economy through pharmaceutical profit and thus the capatalistic mentality trickles down to a new generation of greedy infestations.
Censorship and controlling narratives.
Suddenly every death is the result of the same genetically modified biological weapon.
World War 3 won without a single gunshot being fired and the only war cries heard were those of a population who wept for their lost loved ones buried in shallow graves.
What a time to be alive.
Afrocentric activists stir the masses for followings and fame, preaching words like pastors who promise the return of the massiah and empty their pockets while the people look up to the skies for a sign.
White men call it two peas of the same pod, the same two faced devil we all know and yet the greatest trick that the devil has every played was making us think he doesn’t exist, therefore ignorance is bliss as long as delusions are easily controlled by illusions.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Through the Eyes of a Tortured Soul
In my darkest of times friends were few but it’s precisely those few that have always come to my rescue.
Got that fire in me, churning burning churning burning urging me to stop for a moment and talk to myself for a minute.
I just want to be alone, but the promise to leave myself alone Is not the only one I’ve broken
Hands dripping with blood cut by all the hearts I’ve shred into pieces to mend my own, I feel the present slipping away as I cling onto a memory that’s an illusion.
I try to hold on to a piece of mySelf while everything falls apart but I am a villian in my own story stuck in the same character.
I know nothing, I am nothing, I am worth nothing.
These are the words that I whisper to myself before I sleep at night.
I try too hard, I am making a fool of myself, check how he does it, check how they are acting, look at what they are posting, check how she did it, comparing my actions with everyone else’s as if we share the same problems.
I want this, I want that, I should get that, wishes that I make to myself that never come true
the only thing I seem to fulfill in this life of mine is disappointment.
Even on my worst day I live like somebody on their greatest but the eternal emptiness makes me believe I am that nothingness lurking in the shadows after God shed some light
In my quest for filling the void with affection, tender loving and attention I’ve bled out so many heart, some will never be whole.
Look into my eyes and see my tortured soul.
Feeding on hate I pray onto the weak and quench my thirst with the righteousness of the meek like a deraged conjugate spirit I feel… Nothing.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
War Drums
Blossoming from the concrete Filled with roses rose from the ashes where I was supposed to lay my Pheonix to rest, a daemon, a churching energy pounding with hunger and rage from where my fallen ancestors bled their last and fought with nothing but sword and spear to Cheer for a land that I still do not own.
Yes it is an exhubarantly long statement Cus I have been blessed with a curse of studying the linguistic of my enemy to infiltrate more easily playing the sleeping puppet on strings waiting for them to Trust me enough dost i slay them all just to prove I have Not forgotten.
The blood of my brother furtilises the soil I walk on And The warmth of my Mother’s touch absorbed by the Earth my heart beats With nothing but hate.
Begotten are the sons of man to inherit The Earth held captive by chains, a Bible and a Rifle as they await the final trumpets that never sound from the Book of Revelations.
Where is the black market?
Where is the sound mind of wealth, inheritance and communial investment stripped naked by the fear of a whip, death and a tight rope?
Hear the war drums pounding inside thy mind with every heartbeat for every second is a moment wasted where true liberation is a fleeting illusion that will forever be persued but never attained.
Hiding behind memes and shadows, a depressed and helpless generation addicted to sex, pornography, drugs and alcohol, temporary laughs and delusions of happiness, a defensive coping mechanism using catch phrases for comfort I guess it is what it is, it is what it is.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Curses of Dying Witches
Linching on that noose, betrayal seems to be My biggest companion.
Disloyalty hauling out in confidence “you brought this onto yourself!” as if I asked for an opinion.
Consoling myself with words Inked with a wrath of vengeance as I recite to the few people in this world left foR me to trust while I bury my demons and foes In shallow graves.
“Go to hell” they say. The final curses of dying witches.
I tend to ask “when do we leave” because that’s the only place where I find true peace and comfort.
“You are a cold heartless son of a bitch You deserve what’s coming to you” I’m often told, and I laugh With eyes dancing like fire, peak through the window and imagine living in my state of mind.
Wounds inflicted on emotions never heal.
The tongue is mightier than the sword and sometimes silence makes the most noise.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
The Story of Mavericks
Silent whispers and subtle taps on my shoulder in the midst of a foggy night.
What happens when fear chokes the living pride out of a solider?
What’s honor when the glorious end of a knight is with his own sword for a crown of thorns that’s out of sight?
Silent whispers and subtle taps on my shoulder as I crawl through muddy waters
Slowly drifting into limbo and the gentle touch of endless anger, death is no stranger when one is accustomed to finding pleasure in pain.
Silent whispers and subtle taps on my shoulder dancing upon the reflection of fire
Tears dripping is no expression of emotions but a sign of weakness keeping the ink moist when interpretting voices that led to a series of bad choices.
Silent whispers and subtle taps on my shoulder pretending that life is worth the fight.
O such a gracious smile on my face as I come closer to the light… I’m supposed to die tonight…
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Black Market
You should be ashamed
You should be ashamed of calling yourself black while the children of your people roam the streets with nothing to eat.
Thinking that you are better than them because of your better standard of living, classifications brought upon by another race to hate your own kind, you are the personification of the devil. You are a treacherous evil. You should be ashamed.
Of, watching your fellow brethren murdered and all you can do is make a temporary uproar that will die away like any other trend while you sink back into your precious lifestyle of nothingness.
You have no land.
You have no power.
You have no authority.
You have nothing but the crumbs that rodents scrap up on the floor when the masters of the house have gone to sleep and forgot to sweep because they do not know how to do it themselves – you have been their slave your entire life.
You should be ashamed.
Taking your frustration out on your woman and children as an act of dominance to boost your ego because you know you are nothing but a little boy in public O black man you should be ashamed. You will do more justice in the world by kill yourself than any judicial system could ever give for you in a courtroom.
Turn your back on your ancestors and call them demons.
Possessed by Roman folklore you living like a hypocrite with a man on a cross as your only scapegoat and you can’t even be honest enough with yourself about it because you are too ashamed to admit it. You’re too deeply caught up with the delusion that Distorts your perception of reality. You are living in a fairytale.
You do not deserve to call yourself black.
You have not earned the prestigious title because you are not living up the true potential of a black man and woman.
You still think the system supersedes your own actions. You still think that your worth is determined by possessions and the number of zero’s in your bank account.
You still think because they were able to put your forefathers hands in chains that they have the ability to do that with your mind.
You still seek validity and approval from those of a lighter skin color than yours — even amongst your own kind and yet You keep preaching how black is beautiful but deep down you don’t believe it. You are forcing things.
What evil spirit are you to Not share and use your own kinds products, businesses and service, when you do, you call it supporting, but on a different ethnic group the same actions are called networking contributions, purchases and investments… You do not deserve to call yourself black.
You are disgusting in the eyes of many unless you are of service and keep your distance.
You allow yourself to go on public display because of your brilliance like it is Black Friday.
You get nothing for your innovative ideas.
You call the land of your masters home meanwhile bones of the innocent are siNking deeper in the ocean but allow mass vaccinations on babies, killing entire generations with modified genetics. In case you haven’t noticed they stopped pulling the trigger a long time ago, Black people are killing black people. Black fathers are abandoning their children. Black mothers are forced to breed, feed, provide and protect.
The purpose and value of a black man in the world has been deduced to the donation of sperm.
You should be ashamed.
We should all be ashamed for as I wriTe this the World is at war. Black people are at war screaming stop killing us. Shouting equality. Begging for forgiveness as victims at the mercy of a tyrant that’s has been on a violent killing spree for centuries and still feel like they do not owe you an apology. Black people are at the brink of a revolution. Dark matter is engulfing their spirit. Black people are awakening to the truth.
And we are not doing enough…
Black lives matter.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Duality Comes with a Price
Contemplating on living in a world that doesn’t make sense.
Losing All my senses, My heart beating within the rhythm Of its own space.
I fear I do not belong in this place for there’s no promise land for the strong the meek shall inherit the earth.
Casting spells on shadows trying to find my purpose.
Cursing the gods that made me this way through the reflection in the mirror.
I wonder will they ever get the message before I reach my deathbed
I wonder, whether the unending pain I feel inside was deliberate – See I once offered myself up for deliverance but all I ever recieved were demons for such a bless-ed sacrifice.
And for that I will forever remain sanctified, absolved from the carnage woven within the humanistic instinct of envy, death an distruction, like a women who captures the souls of men through the gateway between her thighs – see I always thought that this species was a distraction until I gazed upon one anointed with melanin such a gracious smile that stole all my attention.
Suddenly contemplations to live turned to temptations to love.
Regained all my senses my heart beat in the rhythm of her pace submerged in the space where her voice resonates.
Suddenly I’m, casting wishes of good fortune to ghosts cursing nothing besides my lack of existence all this time I’ve been Searching for a purpose And she was it.
A soul is never complete until it finds its duality and duality comes with a price that most are not willing to pay…
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
National State of Disaster
Little kids are going to school during a global pandemic. Traumatise the kids, yes, scar them for life as long as they are not yours.
Hospitals lack resources meanwhile billions are spent on mobile scooters – Never give a fool a position of power for he will show you why he is deemed as such.
Relief Money looted by government officials and curfews set for adults – Riches always fall upon the self-righteous insecure small minded assholes.
Law enforcement not mandentaed for vigorous omnipresence because they have a cowardice approach to handling society.
People getting sick, people dying, people losing their jobs, their homes, their livelihoods and scraping for goods…
Billions of Rands loaned to the country with ease at no explanation to the public of what is offered up as colleteral – This is how Nations are sold. Isiqhelo siyayoyisa ingqondo – This is how traitors resolve problems.
If this is the National State of Disaster, the National State of Emergency is just as pathetic but ignorance is bliss in a country run by child-minded persons who deteriorated with age while living in the facade of fighting for freedom only meant for their pockets.
Snakes in suits now that the grass is thinner, the true outfits are starting to show.
The words might be far from artuclate but they are aggravated by the masses.
Digging hundreds of empty graves in anticipation of the number of deaths to occur as time passes – all that is of concern is the banishment of legitimate alcohol and cigarettes sales in the name of increasing safety meanwhile the black market thrives with new products.
Dark Matter, never one to sugarcoat Nonsense especially when no decision makes sense.
The fight is no longer against a pandemic… But rather another scapegoat like the way Christians use the crucification of JesuS.
Idiots. Incompetent imbeciles. If the shoe fits wear it but first climb off the high horse and walk in those of a commoner.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Daemon
Daemon:
And when the heart starts to beat out of pace as the heavens illuminate, the fallen shall resurrect.
Ghosts that roam amongst the living as shadows will come to life.
Demons coming out in twos to collect bills that are due will take to the streets.
Karma, the curse of Lilith, will sought vengeance.
Medusa’s true identity, the most insatiable deadlocked melanin to have ever walked on Earth shall be known.
Snakes will shed their suits for the costume is too redundant.
The Blood River will be filled with its natural colour once more.
Beasts from the four corners of Earth and the four corners of hell will take to the skies…
Will you be alive to see it…?
Pharaoh’s and their armies on a treasure hunt for their stolen jewels
The Xhosa nation shall too finally see the return of their beheaded king.
144 000 to enter the kingdom of heaven and those that remain tear off their limbs, pulling them down, for only the biggest of sinners truly enters and they have wasted their lives denying their inner temptations believing in scapegoats.
I’ve seen them all in the abyss.
Will you be alive to see it?
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Gravity
Dark vindictive lalabyes sung to heartbroken souls
Crucified with their emotions still intact, cupid keeps them as trophies to use, as weapons, to forge, illusions of love as he goes out on the hunt for his next victim.
A single rose sumburged in a quandrant of thorns.
When gravity loses its centre, falling, like the darkness of dawn, is just another outs for a tortured soul pricked with his poisonous arrow.
And thus the Dare to dance with the devil. You know he will hurt you, but you dance the night away.
You know that happiness is only a gift granted to those whom have suffered their entire lives to attain it, you haven’t suffered enough.
She will corrupt your mind with her insatiable beauty – your gravesight is the goldmine.
Breila… With open space to roam freely… Forbidden fruits that give meaning to life, foresaking all the rules, risking it all just to live in the moment – rebuilding broken walls but nothing lasts forever.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Ruins
Rebuilding sensations trying to find peace by mending broken pieces of myself.
Feeling nothing, showing no emotion nor compassion because that part of me died a long time ago and haunts anybody who dares to come close to resuscitate.
Slipping in and out of consciousness I’m trapped in a loop of lust and orgasms for instant gratification.
Drowning in my own bitterness, suffocated by my own selfishness, befriended by loneliness and loyal to the fault I only crave for a dose of what I once was.
To feel again
Feeding off the pain inflicted on others – It’s the only thing that’s kept me alive.
For all that remains is a vessel, destroying everything on its path, allowing everyone to cross over only to burn down the bridges so there’s no escape.
To find that part of myself that I can never get back, I’d have to travel through the ruins within myself and meet face to face with my demons.
They ought to cringe in my presence and tell me to go to hell.
Because I’m ready… When do we leave…?
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Reflections of the Mind
It’s taken alot of pain to be this strong.
It has taken alot of heartache to feel nothing.
Some people go around thinking that because I am able to be nice and generous, sweet and romantic, selfless and vulnerable that this is who I truly am. Given the opportune moment, I am a cold hearted son of a bitch, your worst nightmare. The kind that you wish you’d never come across. But why would I go around showing that side of me?
Nobody likes that.
One thing this world has taught me is how to wear many faces. Each face, Is carefully chosen to best suit whatever situation and surrounding I am in. Like an endless pit, my entire existence is like a void that can never be filled. You might think you know me, but you do not. For I am everything that you think I am and nothing all at once. I bring hope where there is none and have the ability to let it linger as I see fit. I give total happiness and I destroy it. I can easily give love, and take it away like it never existed.
I am the man a mother tells their daughter to never fall for only for her to be blinded by his wits and his Charms and thus she passes the message on to her daughters because she realised when it was too late, picking up the broken pieces of her heart, that her mama was right all along.
I am the ghost that brings good fortune and steals it back when you are asleep.
I hold a moral high ground, my voice pierces those with ears to listen – articulate words full of wisdom, full of charisma, full of enthusiasm. I have been blessed with a silver tongue – alas ye hath known the genetics of a snake.
Often I wish for people to let me be and let me drown in my own misery but they are drawn to me because their misery loves company. I feed off it. I crave it. I love it.
Often I wish to peel the flesh off my skin and walk bare, exposed, but the world is not ready to see what I really am. So I will wear this camaflouge, this fake smile on my face. I will Wake up, dress up, put on make up and play my part like a character, and watch for every time I am called out for acting out of character because I missed a part of the script.
Yes… It is a full time job to be something And someone you are not just to fit in.
Hold on… Listen closely… There’s someone knocking on the door… Can you hear the whispers?
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Chameleon
“Hell is a place where fragments of your soul go to when you have lived a life of fear, regret, pain and anger without liberating yourself from such feelings at that particular moment in time for which time is an illusion thus you end up reliving those moments for eternity in another dimension, which you created. – DAEMON – Indelible Thoughts Pt.1: Rise of the last Daemon”
I don’t know happiness, only the spalling of its presence.
To tell you how it all started, would be a reflection of the misery I’ve been through.
To tell you why I’ve never allowed myself to be truly happy is to leave myself vulnerable at your mercy by telling you that I have never known how to be happy at all.
I’ve always lived my life, as a subject to please others… Not because I really cared about their emotions but because my selfishness wouldn’t let me tarnesh my self-righteous image.
A simple thing such as “I do not want to talk right now”, easily spirals down in endless dreadful conversations full of laughs, drinks and giggles as I hold back my tongue from saying what I truly felt, with awkward silences and pauses where people think we are really connecting but in truth, Im finding peace within myself, looking forward to talking to myself, because the only person who ever truly listens and never gets hurt when I speak my mind is the one who stares back at me in the mirror.
When I, am finally alone I’m never lonely because misery loves company and that’s when the bottle of tequila comes in handy.
I am, easily distracted by the thought processes of others. I feed off their energy, their mood, their emotions, their pain, their rage and their sadness like a sponge, draining it from them in exchange of my happiness.
I lose a piece of myself every single day, my psychiatrist tells me that I have split personality disorder and I always laugh at him because he is one of them.
Adjusting my personality to suit the energy emitted by my surroundings had you never been told before that a chameleon adapts to everything besides the True colour of its skin?
I may have created my own hell in this reality but I can’t wait to see what the real one looks like… It may be just another out for a tortured soul.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Charcoal on Paper
Charcoal on paper – Sketching scripture that was never written;
Documenting a few Indelible Thoughts just to put bread on the dinner table while the rest are forbidden to Preach the words of a heathen so they stay hidden in hopes that one day they would be heard – kuthiwa ithembha alibulali liyandanisa – no wonder I’m so misunderstood.
Bitting my own tongue cus I Ink with the same hand I wipe my brown ass with – been told I’m the shit before but the reflection on the mirror Is nothing but a shell, an empty vessel for conJugal visits Imprisoned by lust.
Who do you trust when you are just a nobody wafting About?
Sometimes, most of the time, I still pretend I will find the piece of myself that I can’t get back…
Sometimes, most of the time, I still pretend to be happy just so others do not experience pain.
Sometimes, most of the, every breath in my lung is just to give life to somebody else in a metaphysical form or whatever that of.
I am a product of pages, numbers and signature from a biblical scripture…
Coated with blood sweat and tears mixed with the colour of my skin… Charcoal on Paper.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Wicked Games
Holding her sturdy and firm I could feel her tears trickle on my skin pleading with wishful thoughts for me to let gO.
Driven by lust and enticed by her fear as I rip her blouse off revealing thOse breasts that forever haunt my thoughts.
Her screams are falling on deaf ears. Her scratches and punches only arouse me even more. She’s got fight in her. Yes, I love a woman who puts up a challange.
I’m on the hunt for the ultimate prize, a trophy from the best of God’s handcrafted souvenirs located between her thighs.
Pinned her to the ground, choking the life out of her I felt her body quiver. Slid inside and felt the warmth of her soul escape her body through each thrust and penetration, quenching my thirst. That’s something special right there, she ought to be my best.
Screams muffled, her legs succumbed to shivers, those beautiful eyes rolled backwards as I felt her heart pump the last bit of blood through her luscious body while I inhaled her last breath…
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
Sacred Temple
My body is a temple, Thou shall not want to make me lie down for you possess no greener pastures and yet you forced yourself onto me.
Anointed by The God’s, my cup runneth within, filled with still waters, a holy grail for no man to drink upon but you quenched your thirst with necter that was not yours to have.
How I flaunt my body and swerve my hips as I walk, how I move my lips when I talk, and how much flesh I choose to reveal is no sign of desrespect to it nor an open invitation for lust but your actions prove to me that true beauty is subject to envious cruelty.
The color of my skin and insatiable beauty makes you feel ashamed of your own appearance wanting what you could never have so you choose to take it by falling victim to your greatest weakness and projecting your insecurities on other people.
Musculanity is not the symbolism of attraction.
Neither does forcing yourself onto me display any form of affection but getting cosy with violence through a society that thinks less of women is the only motivation that drives men and makes you feel entitled thereof.
Falling to pieces as I fought with my last dying breath while you stripped me off my honor, I looked into your eyes and set a curse from the wrath of a woman scorned.
Inyembezi zam aziweli phantsi, you may take my life but you not seeing the last of me.
Dump my lifeless body in a ditch just like you do with your victims.
Bury me alive if you must.
Behead me, choke me to death, cut me open, stick an object up my….
Leave me dead in the cold frost of nature for my body to catch that fresh morning drizzle before the stench of rotting flesh draws too much attention.
Inyembezi zam aziweli phantsi, you may take my life but you not seeing the last of me… Death is a wound that never heals…
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
5 Percenter
Black tax. Generational mistakes that we never learn from
Parents raise their children the same way that they were raised by their parents in a world that no longer exists and
Act surprised when their children are addicted to the same drugs that their baby daddies are selling in the streets.
Daughters sleep with multiple men triple their age for gadgets and a soft life pressured by peer pressure. Sons bottle up emotions until they choke from a noose But
These are controversial conversations that we never speak of because the fabric of the topic is of an uncomfortable texture.
I am that poet that sharpens his pen to enhance his skillset of passing the message with relevant contant, a prophet by nature.
I am that poet that understands that it is never easy to be content – Just like having a positive Savings Bank balance is a privilege.
It is Difficult to save for rainy days when it’s already pouring. Paycheck after paycheck, Debts pile up but look all beautiful in public. All the scars are showing.
It is Difficult to find love when the majority is driven by lust.
It is Difficult to trust because, with the right price, they can easily betray you.
I am that poet that draws strength from his pain for you to find pleasure in his words – A true definition of a 5 percenter.
Black tax. Generational mistakes that we never learn from
Keep to yourself, move in silence and watch how they all come for a slice when you’ve made it.
Instead of fixing your crooked crown they tell everybody what their problem is with you, except for you.
Smile in your face giving tight hugs and sticking knives in your back.
Sometimes your greatest enemy is the one closest to you.
- Indelible Thoughts: Dark Poetry
