Tag Archives: Truth

Reflections On Truth

The words escape me
I cannot find who I am

I see the shadow but I cannot chase her
As she is always one step ahead of me

I see her being reflected in the glass but she is in chains
Being held accountable for all that she has not gained

I beg the mirror to release her as blood spills onto those rusted chains

The mirror laughs and says
“It’s not me that has trapped her but it has been you, this whole time.
Are you not ashamed”

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Facts of a Fairytale

Sometimes we make it sweet for our mind
This unnatural fascination with being broken

Dreaming of sirens and wood nymphs
With glorious scales and wings of green and blue, the colours merky with tales of how we truly feel.

Beauty unimaginable
Beauty no man can help but touch; no man can resist or unwatch

But where is the truth when we lay down to cry?
When we cry for all those nights we felt vilified and denied
The rights of our bodies, they never seem to be our own
So we ascbribe the violations we feel to aethetics compliments that can only cover our scars but can never rid us of our pain
Hiding in plain sight.

No nymph no Osun.

Just the memories of our shame drowning us below our waters, which we were told was beautiful
Our beauty will soon kill us
Like poison ivy ingested in the brain
Our mind becomes strewn poisonous flowers, trees that have no roots but enough dead leaves to drown out the light

At some point
When we truly fall asleep, away from our life of gimmicks
The water, the trees
They take over and drown out all that we can see; blinding us from false ecstasy.

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A Whole New World

The difference in appreciation and representation is real
It’s never quite the same when it’s right in front of you

You think you love it
You think you can accept it
You think you understand it

But the truth is you’re just as lost as the masses
A total freeloader from the reality that is your minute idea of representation

Or maybe you were never quite attuned to it
Unstable in your reactions to reality
So you sought an escape route.
Something to hide the pain and displacement in your soul.
Something to feed your interest into
Some how hoping it would free you.

But the truth is my dear Diasporan or African
Is that the realities are different and so are the histories
It will never be one and the same

History that gives birth to present day ignorance and suffering
A reality that guarantees absolute safety despite lack of graces.

Two completely different worlds.
And it’s possible for you to be an Alien in both.

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Bitter Intellectuality

Blind and societally stupid

We make our way into the world of faux organisation and labels that leads us to our supposed civilisation (which everyone acts like it’s not humanity that it erodes)

Snatched up like puppets

Then put into boxes

Unless you were chucked in the bucket,

Then your job is to mop it

To mop the insecurities of the top notches within those boxes

Esteem deflated

Resorting in bursting clouds and self-hatred, you better take a ticket because their branding is still not completed

Slowly but surely, a creative robot will come into play

Knowing what to do and what to say

Jumping through the hoops, despite the pain, losing a hope you’ll never fully regain

So now your back is crooked, despite all the gains

You look in the mirror, see how the weave causes you ecstasy and feel ashamed

You begin to think “My ancestors did not go through all of this for me to look in the mirror and view my features with disdain”

So you dig deep into your archives

Reaching for sustenance and life

Away from this civilisation that is a lie

Then you find blood

And tales that hide

Tales that we only sought to have exist in our minds

Beyond the story books, beyond the western mimes, life has shown you that you have been truly blind

All those labels of weakness were just a disguise

For the history that had been destroyed by land minds

Human beings deeply disguised as a merchant that had nothing to hide

So now you look up, face ashen

As your ancestors beckon

The call of your cry

There was never humanity in Christendom, it was all a lie.

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Hades

They say light exposes all

But what if I tell you that my light is of a different shade

 

A different matter

 

For the darkness helps me to master, manipulate and encounter my light

 

My truth cannot be shown in the light

For it blends too easily

 

Instead I must go to the abyss,

To the Land of the Dead,

And search for my Light.

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