A journey begins with one step

Birds in the sky, ants on the ground, a journey begins with one step
White, black, green, yellow
His story began in the streets of Congo DRC
He was a teacher knew more than his ABC’s
With a degree that says most promising student of his class
Yet he falls lower than the lower class
He stares at his reflection in a broken glass
And sees pieces of what use to be his life
Yet this man looking back at him he does not recognise
It’s the man he use to be
Back when being alive required no fee
When he was the man his kids wanted to be like
Back when his wife and kids use to call him their pillar
How quick things turn

(picture was found on Goggle and is not work of the poet)

Tear drops to rivers that lead to oceans
Unknown beings that make everyday stories
All she ever wanted was to provide for her family
Help shed some of responsibilities on her mother’s aching back
So she takes a trip through cyber space to a world she does not know
A hero with no face, with only just a click, her hero comes along
Promising her the stars and the moon
So she believes him the hungry mouths she has to feed lives her with no option
With tears on her face a mother kisses her Daughter good bye
Makes her promise to come home soon
Days make ways to weeks which makes way for months and years
Her face is replaced by bank notes
She’s an inspiration to her community
Young South African girl from a small town makes it overseas
No one knows that just like her mother’s aching back her heart slowly dies
Each time she lays on her back and spreads her limbs
So she vows to never go home cuts off her roots
Like a lifeless tree she withers away
Her hands clutching to the smiles on the family portrait
And the empty hope that it was all worth something
For the thought of her mother seeing her like this
Kills her faster that the knowledge that she has full blown Aids
A journey begins with one step, where will your next step take you

For too long

(picture was found on goggle and is not work of the poet)

For too long I have packed my bags in anticipation that you will see the pain on my face
And rescue me to an island some where
So I neatly packed my sadness , anger and the ice cold chills that your snares and shouts sends down my spine, as you open fire with gut wrenching and heart dropping comments
And walk away with no care for my feelings
For too long I have stood in silence taking it all in like a worthless piece of art
For too long I have build myself up so you could come and tear me down and like a house of cards I would come tumbling down
You have stood by and watched me fall so you could tell me to stay down in a I almost care tone
That says if I was worth caring for you would actually care

I have stood in the centre of your entertainment circle and watched you play dots with my self esteem, as you give yourself points for tearing me apart piece by piece
For too long I have laid my dreams on the floor so you could wipe your feet each time you went after yours
I cried in darkness as you came home with rejection on your shoulders and spread my dignity so you could release your frustration and failures
I have read magazine after magazine and tried to be what they considered the perfect woman
So I put on heels of hope and before I can put one foot in front of the other you pull the B and H labelling rug under me so fast I trip and fall flat on my face
I have put on makeup and dreamt up a made up role for myself, one where I am visible
One where I have a voice just to have you spit on my face and tell me I should be glad I have someone like you in my life

For too long I have been the table that you put your stinking foot on
The ash tray that you put out your forever changing 2 minutes dreams out
The chair that you rest your no back bone back on
I have been your maid, your cook, your pleasure doll pulling positions that even a barley dancer would not master so you could position yourself better in life
I have watched you grown with pleasure and tried to keep this volcanic rage and disgust from erupting and burning these walls down

For too long I have kept from looking at my reflection in the mirror afraid that I might not recognise the real me, afraid that with all these layers of not being good enough , not being pretty enough and not being smart enough that you have painted on me might actually be who I am
For too long, I have been your mother, your neighbour, your sister
For too long I have been you

Poems are us by us

Poems are expressions of things felt, anger buried and exhumed, Love lost and found
Days past and days to come, heartbroken and healed
Day and night, tears and smiles
Deep breaths through the pains of child birth
An embrace of forgiveness
Deep pain stirred by the lost of a loved one
Poems are alphabets and numbers
A’s of amazement, abudance, again and again
A fresh start, a do over again and again
Fresh breaths in the morning
Winks of a sleepy eye

(picture is not original work of poet and was found on goggle)

Poems are seasons, weather and a life time
A touch that sooths, a razor that cuts
A conversation of one, a song of nations
A lullaby, a love letter
A voice of silent thoughts
Poems are first words and last words
Goodbye and hellos

Poems are moments, shouts and stillness
Poems are songs acapelo, solo, duets
Beat of an African drum
Or the rhythm of a Brazilian
Poems are memories
Poems are everyday
Poems are you and me
Poems are us by us