Comfort.

Comfort. The golden word…

Held with glass hands and uttered with unshakeable resolve. We are told it is an invisible sanctuary,that we should seek it. But when we’ve found it,we are encouraged to leave it… For it suffocates growth. ©

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The Self.

📷MyrkoThum

He stays up all night creating characters according to his insecurities,

He crafts with his flaws their appearances, he adorns them with his scars,

He crochets their speeches with his unbearable impediments,the plots reads like the chronicles of his failures.

He omits the true sense of his views with overused periods of ellipsis, it is his personal conflicts that builds up to the climaxes of his stories; his pessimism fuels his obsession with tragic endings.

However much the strength of his protagonists,the embodiments of his fears are the forever victorious adversaries.

Moulting ,Healing And Reviving.

I have been dealing with chaos(i still am) Anxiety:

I liken it to a loud,pesky female mosquito,keeping me up all night…determined to sink it’s proboscis into my flesh and extract with my blood my confidence,injecting with it’s bite a disease of self-doubt …not only wounding my esteem ,but poisoning my soul.

Or more appropriately….
A voice of contention chanting war cries to incite conflicts between the hemispheres of my brain.

I am not defeated ,at least not yet. And this here is my first performance in 6 months, because i have been cancelling some and not showing up for some.

Down Second Avenue: Spoken Word Poetry Revival .

PoPArt Theatre ,Johannesburg ,Maboneng.

17 November 2018

Hope to see ME there!!!

Mwandishi (Misconception Of Masculinity)

He is a libertine who lost his character in acts of a self proclaimed master of polygamy,
He changes maidens with assorted boxes of delicacy, blowing wealth intended to be a legacy,
While he whisper sweet nothings to his mistresses under these trees in the orchards in illegimate amatory, home is where he carries his physical brutality,
Haunted by the conscience of his infidelity,
….he rupture bones, puncture ribs,
Strangle his wife while his daughter watch to emphasise his supremacy
“I am the head of this house!!” he addresses aggressively,with the boot of his treachery he tramples her dignity.
Submissively,she bows before his misconception of masculinity
She hugs her daughter firmly and whispers
“Excuse his corroding humanity, love is strength and ability. A heart that forgives suffer the less misery.” her voice tremors with agony,
Mwandishi weeps for her Mother with sympathy,
Seven years after her birth, witnessing first the side of marriage that drips with cruelty,she made an internal promise to forever despise the knots of matrimony.

Broody Hen (A Narrative)

Mwandishi Trilogy.

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