What makes you black?

All those years it took me to be a complete individual
Not even a day it was till i had this thought
WHAT MAKES YOU BLACK?
It was all a moment of;silence till I said to myself
MY AFRICAN CULTURE
THE WAY WE WERE BROUGHT UP!
Lefura la ngwana ke ho rongwa
THE WAY WE WERE TAUGHT RESPECT!
Ke hlaba ka lengole fatshe to serve you
OUR AFRICAN STYLE OF DRESSING
TSHEA LE THETHANA YA NGWANA MOSOTHO.

The decorations seen on the Ndebele house
Symbolize the spirit of Africa that dwells within me
The knowledge,perseverance, and motherhood we drink
Gives me the courage to be MOSOTHO WA LESOTHO KE SOTHOFALE.
Kgaebane  ke e rolela our heroes MOPEDI, MOSHWESHWE,LETSIE
You name them the question is
WHAT MAKES YOU BLACK?

Thandi

It seems to me as if I've known you
all my life
you've been there through rocky days
you've been there through rain as well
as sunshine
you've been my anchor during windy days
you've been my umbrella while walking in the rain
through you I've learnt the true meaning of love,
the true meaning of respect, most importantly
the true meaning of friendship
from you I've learnt what it means to sacrifice
what it means to work hard
what it means to achieve
I thank the Almighty for making sure
that our paths crossed

THANK YOU FOR BEING THANDI!!!

I sit and wonder

Is life it’s all made out to be?
Or are we meant to step over all the rocks that we find in our path?
When should we give up?
Or is failure not just part of it all

Why are the answers that we seek sometimes so hard to find?
Or are the questions so wrong?
How would we know the difference?
Are we meant to know?

Best I can is the way I live my life
But sometimes it’s not enough.
Sometimes I must fail
Sometimes I must feel the pain

Sometimes I have to fall
Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to get back up again
Sometimes I give up knowing that there is nothing I can do to change
The way things are

Sometimes it’s not for me to change
Because I can’t on my own
Not without help
But even help is sometimes hard to find

Put the truth on a pedestal
Thinking it’s the only thing that can stand the test of time
But is that the truth?
Or only a hope?

So what is wrong?
If you can tell me then I’ll listen
Listen to your heart
If your heart speaks the same language

If only I knew what you wanted from me?
How you needed me to love you
Treat you, respect you and
Understand you and why you do what you do again and again

Like a puzzle that will not fit
Where in your life should I be?
Or are you just trying to change me
into what you think I should be?

And so I wonder
Always
On my own
Alone    

In betwixt theee ancestral and The God

Am dry from my devoted mind, soul and so is my body
The world seem to be shrinking before me,
I wonder if its the gun that will make them believe,
Maybe am a saint, too innocent to know the roaming voices, words,……alphabets, maybe i cant make a word
Its the dead souls that lie beneath us.
Respect or dis before respect if i dont bow to them
The Steps, progressions, for heaven is beneath not!
Rather i'll climb up and be worth a comfort
or is it down degrading my strength
As for the will of the living lost,
Or for the believers, for spiritual upliftment.
Its a choice that determines my destiny……
so let my voice be heard by the open heaven,
and be rejected by the degrading souls
I'll keep mumbling if they view it that way
After all its not a make believe rather a belief to believe.

Magic hand

Hey Taxi man, Hi-Ace king!
Smiling in your death box, carelessly driving,
recklessly flying on the shouldered freeway, just as you please,
your passengers wear faces grimly serious, never at ease.

In between your rush for fee, your quick five Rand,
please, show me where I can find
a puppet dangling arm attached to a hanging magic hand.
I want to know how to never use my review mirror to hardly look behind.

So I can come and go when and where I want.
Just like you, by dropping out the hand so magic,
the hand which allows you to cut off, push in, abruptly halt,
without the slightest respect for general public.

Armed with this too, will I also be allowed to drive without fear?
Stick it out my window, hang it on the door.
It gives you a special licence no matter whose at your rear.
After all, rules not so important, the rank is near!

Business should market this magic hand, well it will sell, by the loads.
Red hat flopping your bright white vehicle packed with more than sixteen.
You are the gods of  Ethikwini city, princes of  urban South African roads.
White wall tyres spinning, between work, you keep your Toyota crystal clean.

But I want this wizardly item, the magic hand.
To use it like you, standing as one.
Branded a law unto your own,
under some seats a shining gun.

Conveyer of the labour of the land.
Taxi man, no indicator flickers
while I read your witty bumper stickers.

You have shown us,  revealed the power
and the wonder,
of that magic hand.

4 May 2007

When called upon, please leave

You! Standing way in the back like you don’t belong here,
You know the reality of that one…
From all of you- I chose YOU to share my pain with,
Everytime I look at YOU, your cold words still echo in my ears

And you over there please save those meaningless claims of commitment
For the fools you surround yourself with!
Talk is all you good for…
It should have taken me one look to see the failure I see today.

Wow, look at you, all suited up in your crisp white shirt & tie,
So full of respect…? Why isn’t your head help up high?
Where were was your respect when u raised your fist & cursed at me
The nerve of you to show your face here.

Well, well, well! Fancy seeing you here.
Did you get my message last month, and
The other, and the other after that?
Have you not noticed how many days and weeks have gone passed?

Oh oh oh…slow down…Don’t bother rushing in that way
Twas you…was it not? Who took your time to call back that day…
You knew exactly what it meant to me, you knew you were all I had.
What difference are you trying to make now?

Stop that howling PLEASE! Save some of those crocodile tears
I saw those rolling eyes, and I heard you whisper under your breath
WHO are trying to convince??
You so pretentious, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Oh Beautiful friend with dark flowing hair,
Turned your back and that’s where I’d be – Never your equal!
Have you looked really deeply into your true reflection
And see the fool everyone else does?

MY TIME WITH YOU HAS PASSED!!!!

Would you be so kind as to oblige to my final request.
Don’t miss me when I’m gone
Don’t think about what could have or should have been
Keep at your busy lives
My time with you has passed.

In the Stillness of the Night

In the stillness of the night
Slowly life evaporates from my veins
As the heart bleeds
The tears warm streaming down
The sighs of despair to compliment
Memories like a damaged record play
Days gone by of past happiness
Days of laughter and sunshine
Of childhood joys and lessons taught
Lessons learnt, lessons of pain
Of bruised knees and stitches
Lessons of respect and compassion
Days of advice and wisdom
Oh! How I remember you voice
Our last conversation strikingly clear
Your picture on my mantle
Reminds me of our short years
In the silence of the night
My heart bleeds
Tears of warm rivers flow
I know it was your time to go,
But Daddy, I miss you so.

For Women With Dreams

Here's to women
With dreams
And schemes.
With visions and
Values,
Beyond all that
Seems reality.
Within their reach,
They teach
Us to break the mould
Of old
Conventions and
Set-in ways.
Who says
They cannot do it all?
And well.
Better,
In every respect.
If left unchecked.
Given rein
To gain
All they will,
And more.
They know the score.
Contempt
From males
Who feel
The threat.
They think  her place
Is in the bed.
Yet, when all
Is said
And done,
There too
She can have her fun.
Its begun.
Trite.
Perhaps.
But without
Respite.
It's her right
To be
Free.
To see
As far as her vision goes.
Ah yes,
Here's to women
With dreams.
I guess
They will
Indeed
Succeed.

Rod jones 10/09/99
revised 1June 2003