Deformed landscapes filled with spirits born into twisted beings,
where does he find the words to tell it in such a beautiful way?
this world under the pendulum of anarchy,
maybe his eyes are too young to see the sensationalism of this life?
maybe these words don’t belong to him
maybe these words are a dream he had before his mind was infested with the visions of reality
maybe the imposing vermilion forms racing and pacing in his mind snatched reality from him.
Yet where does he find the flamboyant words to beautify such a twisted world?
He’s nobody’s hero,
yet his voice resonates the minds of those with speech impediments
and his eyes are the vision of those who are still blind with infantile tenderness.
Maybe these words are a song he heard when the God’s were singing to him to comfort his bewilderment
maybe these words manifest his fear of understanding the demise that he saw in the crystal ball of eternity, when we walk on the path of evil to the altars of hell.
When he wakes up in the morning he sees this world with new eyes and the beauty beyond impressions,
a gentle voice of a maiden who lives beyond the crystal mountains where the sun rises with a million faces inflames his dreams and burns the darkness of his thoughts,
they said that he loves to create a storm where there is none,
it’s a dream, that has no beginning and shall not be ended by his words,
it’s a clandestine allegory of desire in his mind to tell a poets dream,
a common man’s nightmare.
Nkateko Tshabalala is a practicing Advocate passionate about sharing the silence of the world in his poetry. Also a self-published author of Poetic Flair.