Advatages of Hating Love: My Poetry Anthology

1. Advantages of hating you

Today we celebrate our magical death with a kiss
Shadows of lust manifest from the backyard of our minds
Like afore thoughts travelling at the speed of fate
I caress you perfectly; as good as a god caresses its being, perfectly
For imperfect is perfect in its imperfection
You have been great, little girl
You have been ungrateful as well
Bitch, I loved you when I shouldn’t have

My sanity multiplied by a million worries
I die a romantic death in your poisonous arms
You love me; I hear your ambiguous declaration
Civil smiles eating my jealousy away
We make love on a red bed
We shouldn’t…
But I love you too;
Can you hear my dubious confession?
As I moan emotions in your ear
You tear me down
You recreate me
You are an angry pistol in the hands of love
And I am poetry in the hands of hate

Take therefore what I give
From your palms I doubt if I’m willing to receive
With all my love,
My unconditional love that loves conditions
My impure love
With which I hate those who defile your sacred affections for me
I can't stand you
To the marrow’s heart
Your sight plagues my peace
My cursed gift you break me apart
I desire you…
With all the fears in me
And I fear loving you,
With all the faith in me
-4kof1 Satan


2. The Ribelady Puzzle

What I need you to do in order to know who is the only love of my life in the whole world is go back to word number two, then join it with word number fifteen, ending with word number four. If you didn’t understand that, take the last three letters of word number forty-five, use them to start a sentence followed by words two, three and four.

3. Love loves not the truth

If only love could accommodate truth
I’d love you all your silly youth
Without necessity to employ any lies to sooth
Whenever it hurts you like a bad tooth
-4kof Satan

4. I Chose Me Over You
(For my Beloved Ribelady, my ex soul mate)



In the bleed of confusing affection
A twelve round knock-out blow by blow with myself
I woke up, smelled the coffee
And knew I loved me more than you
Coz in dear truth, I’ll do for me, even what is hurting to you



Provoking ancient angers from the Hades of your heart
I abandoned ideals and followed my passions
To temporary greener pastures
Leaving you in complete wonder
While in the dear truth, I had chosen me over you



When I knelt before my hormones
Disregarding your feelings like a priest cussing in anger en route to heaven
When I went DNA, path of my genes
Took my role and acted impulsively, unfaithfully, individually
Obeying thirsts of my own sexuality
It wasn’t no Lucifer that seduced me
Trust me, it wasn’t the liquor, it wasn’t the drugs
It wasn’t a mistake
It was the choice
When I chose me over you



Apologies may flutter human ego
A bunch of mutilated roses may flirt with human naiveté
A love poem may spark human fires
Like a happy pill sending a junky perky
The make-up kiss may taste like waters of champagne
The touch you missed may feel like winter in cosy paradise
But in dear truth
I chose me over you



Love of my life, love of my death
In every pardonable wrong I do against you
I choose me over you
And faithfully, you do you over me
-4kof Satan

5.Beloved pretenders

Pretenders do what is necessary to achieve what is needed
Pretenders love you
When your market value is high enough to for them to harvest returns
-4kof Satan

6. The Famous Ribelatti Saying

Do not love
The winding words of the wise
For if you do
You will succeed in all you do
-4kof Satan

7. The love of a father

He
Loved
His
Daughter
So
Much
He
Shagged
Her
-4kof Satan

8. Blood and death

The blood you see on me doesn’t mean I’m bleeding/ Just a remarkable symbol of a bloody birth/ The blood you don’t see on me doesn’t mean I don’t bleed/ Just a remarkable symbol of granted mirth/ The blood by faith the blood by sight/ All a remarkable symbol of a pending death/ My blood and death are thus traces to my darkest path
-4kof Satan

9. Redemption of a dead ego
(On loving your enemies like you love yourself)

Let mercy & forgiveness be a lie
Let the guilty prepare to cry
For ‘tis dick-nuts-&-two-eyes for an eye
Uppercuts for a jeer
How dare miss your ear
When your drums failed to hear?

Behold, eye for an eye is a sin in my books
Let me show you how I handle these crooks

The flaming hands of retribution
Now rest ‘pon your plastic shoulders
Too long you lusted for grief
Invoking eternity for your duration
‘Pon the man-eating earth to be brief
Heed now, for your grave is calling
Bleed clown, for your blood is falling

Behold, eye for an eye is a sin in my books
Let me show you how I handle these crooks

Skomor2 yourself and donor3 yourself
For your gods & my gods
Do not share no water gourd
Let your knees kiss the floor praying
Appease them scoundrels
For the last time fold hands
Learn the kick of the dying horse
Yet be careful not to spill your penis & nebulous testicles
When you kick their congested bucket

Behold, eye for an eye is a sin in my books
Let me show you how I handle these crooks

NB: It is both your eyes for my ego
Your smile for my tears

NB: Revenge is the redemption of shattered pride
The emancipation of them damn demons inside

Tonight let mercy be a lie
Let the guilty prepare to die
For ‘tis dick-nuts-&-two-eyes for an eye
Garrotting for a jeer
How dare dismiss your fear
When your death is so near?
-4kof Satan


10. Kamikaze sex

Beautiful woman
And her beautiful man
We lie on an ugly casket
That appears like a beautiful bed
Filled with wreaths not bouquets
Flowing with electrical blood and toxic kisses
Urban mistletoe, we dive in matrimonial satires

When prince Lucifer heard
The romantic rumours of our carelessness
Adult adolescence versus composed celibacy
How we cared little for life
And too much for love
He came to plunder our breath
Breaking and entering our lives
Romance his defence, amorous necessity, our hearts said

Lethal woman
And her lethal man
We lie on a death permit of passion
Moaning orgasmic deposits
Debiting our future with fiery spears
Hurling our souls into a volcano
Tumbling, into a whirlpool of insanity

This is the implosion of kamikaze sex
Passionate flex, mortal index
Like kamikaze jets, we crash on board
Our existence a jest turning into rubble
We die in love, bleeding from Lucifer’s touch
Leaving the world afraid of affection
Leaving natural fruits bitter to the heart
To wither
Like the woman and man of beauty
-4kof Satan


11. Soon to be ancestors
(4 Nas, Immortal Technique, Robbie William and Marilyn Manson; 4 Mac Manaka, Mpho Ramano, Mbongeni Khumalo and Risi Mathonsi; 4 geddo prophets prophesying on pathetic pulpits for the love of poetry)

BewareAdvantages of hating you, the mouth that speaketh prophecy
Shall not be heard
Lips indicted with heresy
In life shan’t, save the speaker be dead

For they are soon to be ancestors
Them our poetic mentors

‘Conspiracy’
It is said
Beautiful democracy
For zealous zilch declared

They are soon to be ancestors
Them our poetic mentors

They know too much
To remain human as such
Their wisdom an eternal touch
An entity a poor mind can never clutch

For they are soon to be ancestors
Them our poetic mentors
-4kof Satan

12. Love’s impurity

Beloved one, listen to my ingenious words
Pathos from passages I’ve walked
And wisdom picked up on my lonely way:

Love as I’ve seen it is brittle
For it is never unconditional
Ever flimsy
For it cannot be firm
Since beloved one
It is only on the condition that you are lovable that I love you

Mara why is love so impure?
Beloved I see you losing yourself in wonder
But listen to my divine words
Pathos from passages I’ve walked
And wisdom picked up on my lonely way:

Love is bias it is prejudice
A survival tactic
A mental technique

For those thingitjies4 I love in you,
In others with my whole heart I hate
Those things I cherish about others
About you I carry the load of loath
For what use are they to me
When you are an accessible accessory of my satiation
While others hate you,
Why do you think others love you?
Because beloved, to them you are lovable

Mara why is love so impure?
I see you beloved, losing yourself in infinite wonder
Courtesy of your tendency to deny reality
But listen to my words
Pathos from passages I’ve walked
And wisdom picked up on my lonely way:

Indeed, beloved one
Love bases itself on irregular facts
You love when it is opportune to love
For even vows can’t force your heart’s hand
Neither can their absence signify hatred
But pure love is pure coz you deem it so
However, on the day your spirit reconsiders
It is not, for it never was
-4kof Satan

13. We are men; we are a pack of smugglers

We are men
Men we really are
We always dress for we have things to hide
We dress fancy
We dress flashy
We even wear smiles
For beneath it all, we are smuggling penises

We are men
Men we really are
We always dress for we have things to hide
We dress in fancy philosophy
Or gospel
Or peace politic
But beneath we are smuggling ass-seeking missiles

We are men
Men we are
Are we really men?
We dress for we have things to hide
We dress in diamond and gold wedding rings
We wear vows and domestic obligations
We wear loving hearts
And fancy biblical verses
But in secret we are pushing the cause of the penis

We are spies
We are thugs
We are smugglers
And we hate
Anything
That seeks to expose our clandestine operation
-4kof Satan


14. Possession of wealth: the root of all love

The beautiful Mpumalanga sun is walking in the east
The whole world is sleeping awake
In loving hate
For Eros walks hand-in-hand with Mammon
Respect towing behind frivolously
Disaster’s siblings camping in the midst

The Mpumalanga sun taught me
It takes cancers to love
Your own family
It takes h.i.v to care
For ‘loved’ ones
It takes death to scare us into embracing
The next person

Injury
Earthquake
Violence
Disease
Mourning
= Love

The sun taught me
It takes so much to find God
-4kof Satan

15. Artemis Fantasy

Tell bullet or blade
And relay also the message to spear
And tell the ground and spade
That it is they who should fear
For Ribelatti ain’t afraid
Not when life has never been dear
-4kof Satan

16. Piano violence

The pianos of life are whispering melodies
Melodies of love and death
Melodies of God and Satan
Poor jovial birds float on the immaculate horizon of the sky
While patient hunters steadily aim
At their tiny shapes

The poignant piano plays
Passion and love gave me Aids
The bloody piano stains
Passion and love gave me Aids

I hear the giggly ashen girls cry
I feel the bubbly ashen boys wish to die

Passion and love our blunder
Love, love, what love that blows us asunder?

Every hollow night I hear them wail, wailing
Their voices joining the journey of their tears
To nowhere
But to the broken cords of hope
Where Lucifer’s melody echoes
The shattered affections of the heart

The poignant piano plays
Passion and love gave me Aids
The bloody piano stains
Passion and love gave me Aids

I hear the desperate moan I see the uncontrollable shudder
As Lucifer’s piano takes them
On an evil mind-quaking escapade
To a place of holy gloom and viral thunder
Teleporting their cracking voices
Through environs of open cities, as if to admire
Through churches, as if to ask for forgiveness
Or to say: voetsek5 God

But you never know
Until you ride on Lucifer’s boundless train
Through the state of miseretti6
For buses and taxis are full –
People are going
Where passion and love led them
Down to Morrison’s Avalon
Where permanently they shall be alone

The piano is violent
Passion and love gave me nothing
My piano is silent…
Now I shall die crying or coughing
-4kof Satan

17. Barrel Love

The kiss of steel
Arouses your fears
And stirs the boiling confusion
As you accept barrel love
For the day was overdue

Barrel love
Is the kind you receive
Despite so much that you give

Barrel love is what you get
For marrying your parents’ perfect son-in-law
And not your heart’s perfect imperfect love

Barrel love is what you earn
After rejecting
The poor
Unpopular
Ugly
Ever-caring
Geddo
God-loving
Poet
Who begged to love you
Even if you couldn’t love him back

Barrel love is your reward
For winning the hearts of friends
Who expected you
To only love the richer one
With a beema, beema one
Snake-leather shoe one
Expensive wardrobe
Paradise apartment
Top restaurant-dinners one
No-nonsense taking (nonsense-giving)
Assertive
Strong
Father figure
Son-of-wealthy hounds
One
Who will kill you
With his diamond barrel
Get out on bail, indefinitely
As usual
And marry your barrel beloved sister one

Barrel love is the receipt you get issued
For
Hating
The girl in the mirror
Crying, hurting
For love
Yearning to be free
When he passed the barrel love to your barrel kids
Who, like you,
Must now offer their breath as a sacrifice
Of barrel love
What else?
Because he couldn’t take himself anymore
-4kof Satan

18. Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch

PS: (This is not a cartooning satire of an abusive mother-theresa-fucker, or any of those who live their romantic death behind closed doors with their beautiful women; it is a depiction of gratitude to tha so-called strong tough-loving woman who is minding her business all alone. I am as ready for censorship and criticism as you are not for facing domestic violence)

Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch
Self-marked with vows of unconditional allegiance
From our meeting 2 tha mortal parting
As our love at 1st sight suddenly dissolves into your last breath
Your weak heart screaming in holy silence
You, my one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch
Without you my snake-leather shoe would only have air 2 kick
My foul mouth would have no face to spit at
Plastering your bio-oil moisturised skin with h-i-v + saliva
Redecorating your features with carefully/carelessly-laced bruises
My one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my punked-up sacrificial b-i-tch
4 letting me break your firm limbs from your exquisite body
Welcoming my unjustified insults in your gracious ears
Contorting your spirit into a frog’s
Smudging the walls of respect with your blood
My one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my self-less b-i-tch
4 tha late night kisses and make-up felatio
Without your considerate care my tantrums would go wasted
My manhood disqualified
And my daily apologies unaccepted
Dankie 4 your neck
Had I strangled another I’d be up 4 attempted murder
Facing fifteen 4 rape
Dankie 4 letting me waste your time with false promises
You are stuck with me, 4 if you go; bathobatlareng?
You, my one and only sexy opponent
Dankie 4 tha million faked orgasms

Dankie, 4 being my b-i-tch, etcetera, etcetera
4 I shall be your guide dog until you find your grave
-4kof Satan

19. Foreboding

Poetry squeezes peaches
And we crave the juice
The messenger of death pays a visit
And we hate the news
B.B. King smokes ancient ecstasy
And we chase the Blues
Love comes crashing downstairs
And damn we debate the truth
But as soon as the Bible predicts
We forever page for clues
-4kof Satan


20. The Sower’s work: a Saucerer’s behaviour
(Dedicated to someone’s trouble with a man’s wife)

Immovably deaf to soft whispers
See the harsh reality of a glass’s reflection
Cauldrons of heaven’s dungeons
Cook me Lucifer’s brain for I desire wit
Adam’s fruit scrumptious of taste
But I crave the seed-full mind that grew it

With sweating brows men pocket death
A lifetime’s wage, a ration of mournful tears
Convergence of fools, adieu to a soulless fellow
Hasty burial betrothed by a slow resurrection
A carnal coat condemned to eternal dust

Melodious thorns of hypocrisy
Pierce to a dark death a fornicator’s heart
For a stolen miniscule moment in naiveté’s boudoir
Sends a soul packing, seeking asylum in Hades
What a sleepless life, a restless demise

Tonight heaven’s lights are out of oil
And the sons of Beelzebub are out on bail

Seven perfect steps later, a sure walk, a softer knock
Catch up with the purest knowledge finale
We can only peer through holes of shut backdoors
But reality demands proper exits
Slit wrists, we can only hope Phosphorus didn’t miss

Display acres of the unseen jungles of perfidy: unrelentingly gory
A spoonful of evil provokes Hemlock’s eerie memory
Mourn Cephas rebuked for implying shortcuts to glory
For heaven’s grim precision, please neither label Judas a traitor
Behold a predilection, the Sower’s work, a Saucerer’s behaviour
-4kof Satan


21. Ode to FK
(Inspired by G. Okara)

In the sepulchral silence
We whisper Fong Kong truths
Emitting Fong Kong smiles
To receive Fong Kong favours
From Fong Kong neighbours
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
We whisper not of papa’s barbaric abuse
And mama’s refusal to see the naked truth
We embrace a Fong Kong nucleus family
To depict a Fong Kong home
Full of Fong Kong parents and Fong Kong children
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
We whisper Fong Kong orgasms
As we make Fong Kong love
With Fong Kong hard-ons
Loving, with Fong Kong emotions
Expressing Fong Kong words
To paint Fong Kong feelings
From our Fong Kong being
I say: how Fong Kong the marriage vows
When the spouse/ leaves the house
For Fong Kong reasons
And feed your imagination Fong Kong explanations
Then with your Fong Kong understanding
You stand under this Fong Kong shadow
Waiting for Fong Kong change
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
We vote for Fong Kong charmer boy
Whose Fong Kong charms
Shall never eradicate charmer poverty
And shall never charm away charmer chrime
And shall never kill dear charmer death
For the Fong Kong government fulfils Fong Kong promises
With Fong Kong budgets
Administered by Fong Kong officials
Who represent Fong Kong people
Who shall govern a Fong Kong democracy
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
We preach a Fong Kong gospel
With a Fong Kong homiletic interpretation
Of Fong Kong scriptures
We worship a Fong Kong god
Who died a Fong Kong death
On a Fong Kong x
Sedated in a Fong Kong coma
Integrity hanging between a soma and a ptoma
Headed for a Fong Kong burial
In a Fong Kong sepulchre
Indeed, we are witnesses to a Fong Kong resurrection
We are Fong Kong devotees of a Fong Kong deity
And we shall one Fong Kong day
Live in a Fong Kong paradise
Dressed in Fong Kong white
Like the Fong Kong angel of light
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
It is dear Fong versus dear Kong
The truth married to shhh!
While we show Fong Kong care
To Fong Kong addicts of Fong Kong drugs
Who disappear
To Fong Kong rehab epicentres
And some Fong Kong weeks later reappear
Fong Kong sober
And we accept them with open Fong Kong arms
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing

In the sepulchral silence
I dare scream fuck
To our Fong Kong perceptions
Pleading with us to suspend this Fong Kong plague
To break the silence and ask
Why everyone is so Fong
And everything so Kong?
Make noise and liberate your voice
For Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck, this Fong Konging for nothing

In this sepulchral silenceAdvantages of hating you
Fong kings and Kong queens are whispering
‘This is a Fong Kong poem
Written by a Fong Kong poet’
Well, Fong Kong all you like
I know my words are without choice
But to fall flat on your Fong Kong ears
For if they weren’t Fonging
And Konging
Your ears would eat them
And your heart would be content
With the nourishing revelation
Illuminating your eyes to this Fong Kong reality
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck my hoping heart breaks

In this last sepulchral silence
This Fong Kong poetic climax
Dear committed Fong Konger: spare me
Your Fong Kong applause
And tell your Fong Friends
That I’m just a Fong Kong writer
With Fong Kong Gnosio-sociological issues
With a Fong Kong exaggeration
Of reality’s penetration
But for Fong Kong’s sake
Fuck this Fong Konging for nothing
Fuck…
This Fong…
Konging…
For fucking nothing
-4ngkong Satan

22. Trephination of a dissident’ skull
(Written for my Asiah)

Paradise submits her CV to Gehenna’s desk
An angel seeks to entice the messiah
The robe of honour to be mudded with guilt
Eternity to be defied in an instant

Anonymous beauty in the carnal form of luscious thighs
Borne by a sky-femalion of instant delights
Nick-named “Tantalus’ Cursed Gift”
For she dissolves moral molecules
As she makes her way into the bar
Leaving the outside world without god

Her persuasive sermons of seduction
Win her bid several converts
As her indifferent smile gambles with hearts of men

Every step she blesses induces angina attacks to the beholder
Heavens have been robbed of their angelic aura
Hell defrauded of every manoeuvre,
And all that is man
Finds redemption from the abusive arms
Of her merciless beauty

All… except me
For she…
Is not you

And unlike you,
She, lives not in me
-4kof Satan


13. ‘Til suicide do us part

Scary movies bear an age restriction
‘Not suitable for children
And sensitive viewers’
But perfect for identity Satanists
Voyeurs of depraved imaginations
Who sit all day
To watch Jack rip them away

Soon reality hits the frontpage
No age limit,
No trauma unit
Real blood defies fears of fiction
Real corpses make us all coroners
Let Hoboken host your sensitivity
Kick yourself in the ass
And witness some horrific death
As Love the Ripper jerks them around

Tonight the reality episode of our love ends
Comedy over, the curtains drawn
Passions withdrawn
Love once accommodated now gone
In its place a raging fire of scorn
The click of steel and a soul that ascends

‘Til death do us part
The waters we chatter
Coz we love our vows to death
But flinch at their reality
It is God’s wicked will
We hate life so badly
Yet we embrace its creator so dearly

Suicide is also death my love
We shall part unless we take its path
I love you enough to kill you
To walk you down David’s valley
Just like down the aisle
I love you ‘til after the smiles vanish
And when kisses become bitter
For truly, truly,
This is no scary movie
But be afraid
But be joyous
For I have kept my vow to love you ‘til death says genoeg1
-4kof Satan


24. Without prejudice or fear

The blood of fallen soldiers
Is dripping on foreign borders
Histographers rush in with cam coders
If only heaven’s eyes were chrime recorders
We’d send Jongile Zenzozakho against Hemp Jy Hemp’s daughters
See who gonn’ protect him
This time same motherfucker gonn’ attack him
Expose the monster in him
Dissipate the pornster’s dream – www.freerapes.com
The wet ones drop
In HIV + wombs
Like a venereal drop
That sent horny caffres to tombs
Beware: our worms match atomic bombs
‘Til Jesus comes
Like David before the book of Psalms
Put the nails on my palms
Let me drip with the blood of a fallen soldier
Coz your mind is a foreign border
Let AENS rush in with a cam coder
For heaven’s eye ain’t no chrime recorder
And surely a rapist is going for HJH’s daughter
-4kof Satan
To our ancestors in Christ

Who were they before he?
Who was he before they?
Who were these moons that are now me?
Who were Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr and May?

Who in hell’s name is this love that hates?
Enough to murder our ancestors and get away
-4kof Satan

25. Prince Harming

The devil dressed in male beauty
They call him hunk
Or stud
Showering their dull minds
With poisonous smiles
Poor little girls
They love him
But he is in love with harming their naïve little hearts
Exposing them to nervous breakdown
And refuge lesbianism
Poor little stupid girls
He
Is
Their
Prince
Charming
-4kof Satan

26. Le nkona moya
(Five pleas for an oxygen tank)
Plea # 1
Pardon my perceptions for being twisted
As geddo hallucinations are being revisited
Maybe I need new spectacles
To get a better view
Restructure the pathways of my nosy nose
For my chemical senses detect the fumigating foulness of living
Coz when death farts, indeed life stinks
You know it too, no wonder you need cologne
To cover the stench of your corroded conscience

So spare me your lashes
When I dare say: le nkona moya

Plea # 2

Pardon my sense of deprivation
Please don’t inflict thorns on my self-victimization
I’ve been in the engineering of such
Walked crooked distances
I know the bloody side of night
At an early age I got tragedy’s autograph
When my ex father’s active decisions
Depicted the scorn for his evident nocturnal emissions
I’m a prodigal sperm with a dream to be an honourable man

But spare me your lashes
When I indict: le nkona moya

Plea # 3

Pardon a rebellious caffre for his honest dishonesty
Rather celebrate my graduation from your school of high hypocrisy
Now I hold a certificate to mutter lies
Coz the truth ain’t safe when hungers materialise
I’m an expert at muffling my truest passions
Coz their expression left many depressed
Dangling on airtime dialling numbers of an ex
We all know breaking and entering amounts to niks
When your heart is the chrime scene
Forget paramedics, the injury is sentimental

So spare me your disapproving whips
As I accuse you of being criminal: le nkona moya

Plea # 4

Pardon my blindness
Because a fellow like me is timid of darkness
The darkness found in daylight
The darkness of exploitative hindsight
Damn moguls who sponsor the damned poor
With kinetic energy to toil tilling their soulless soil
Coffining the corpse of callous cheap labour
With calculated cents of cantankerous capitalism
The holy darkness of cathedral pulpits
Polygamous pigs pimping placenta-plaguing penises
Holy Aristocrat lead us not into the larcenous landscape of liberation
But the Lord’s Prayer ain’t for geniuses
Scum of the earth camouflaged by a verse
I need a breath not a bible
I need a paycheque not a promise or prayer
I need a dollar not damnation
My works secrete purity so do my intentions
Hence, give me a thousand mantras
I need the rebellion of freedom martyrs

But please spare me your judgemental whips
Coz you know: le nkona moya

Plea # 5

Pardon me for arousing memories of your union
With the unmovable underworld and appalling Apollyon
Pardon me for oozing occultist orgasms far from mirth
Thus delivering you at the door of your debilitating death
Please suffer no shock
At my headstrong hustle for breath
As I cock
My macarova to rob you of yours
Your cellphone or your soul fool!
You have a second to decide
Before my brutal bullets bargain for both
The path is lost now, too lost
I build my clan in the wilderness
Yet no manna here but a woman rejecting my wisdom
A drop-dead gorgeous
Who chooses to drop dead at the maiming romance of Morpheus
He whose hands hum her heart long-lasting lullabies
Here dogs are running
Into a tyranny of bitches
Coz virgins don’t grow on trees, like money
No manna here man, no milk nor corny cornflakes
No hope, to hope, when a spirit breaks
Open your eyes but overlook my socio-fatal mistakes
And turn a blind one to my necessary trespasses
Coz the winding road to meritorious success
Harbours notorious potholes
Yet my contract with the geddo is devoid of loopholes
Except for my dreaded social blackhole
The downcast portrayal of my geddo marrow
And geddo bones crushed by geddo manacles
My heathen soul trapped by geddo tentacles
I swear, I try, but the falling is great
Although my ears have never been deaf to the calling of fate
Only mystery read the letters I mailed to the pearly gates

Then please, please, population, please!
Spare me your arrogant licentious lynching
Please
Spare me your bitching and propagandist preaching
I’ve been punished enough: keep your oscillating oxygen
-4kof Satan


27. Bhana nyanda

Bhana nyandayeye
Bhana nyandayeye
Xibhakela xa ngati xi fikile
Rirhandzu ri fambini

Bhana nyandayeye
Bhana nyandayeye
Vanu va lova
Misava hi hela pfu
Na swihlangi a rivoni
Bhana nyanda
U tshika ku dza marimila

Xana don’t you scream your lungs out
For the hand of man and gods
When hooligans break into your home?
So why greet Aids with such silence?
Such denial such lethal acceptance?

Hit the whistle and wake the neighbours
Hit the whistle and wake God
Nyandayeye, a nyoka ingene ndzeni ka miri
Pfunani, pfunani!
-4kof Satan


28. Jovo o Mieovo Yo Sovo

Rebel with me mother of my lover
Rebel ye like me
And dress your heart of hearts
With camouflage fatigues of yonder rage
Deliver my anger from pre-meditated murder
Grant me the relief not to meddle
For it’s an emasculating yoke to standby
While he digs your grave with a blow

Six feet under
Your breath asunder
I can see you quickly descend
Into the permanent kingdom of sand

You heeded heresy
And believed in the marriage of old
Couldn’t defy scriptures,
You stayed truest to doctrine
A child of god in the devil’s home

Indoctrinated you traded your surname
For a daily punch in the nose
Gave birth to innocent hostile witnesses
To his unfailing powers of abuse
Forget silver spoon,
Your babies imbibe postnatal traumatic stress disorder
African figure striding to work in pride,
His drunken breath exhaling furious disregard
Waking the child in the cloak-and-dagger of night
What a horrendous plight!

Six feet under
Their breath asunder
I can see them quickly descend
Into the permanent kingdom of sand

Rebel with me mother of my lover
Rebel ye like me
Love your children like I love your child
Kill the motherfucker ‘coz he’s out to kill you
Kill him before I kill him in angry penance

Does your fear of god
Make you love your husband’s punches?
Make you love him like you hate your children?
I beg you rebel and save them from the abyss

Six feet under
Their breath asunder
I can see them quickly revolt from sanity
Into the permanent childhood of normal insanity

Last night you put a ‘DND’ sign on your door
“Do Not Disturb:
Masculine prowess in progress/ fury in transit/ take a sit, it’s marriage in holy conclave”
You shut society out while he disused/misused/abused your love
Day and night bringing mares to my wife-to-be
Her beauty a flower fading
In the riddling storms of depraved wifedom
And an unending lethal dose of diabolic upbringing
She a child in my arms
My voice failing to reach her guilty self-defence mechanism
That shan’t ever defend her from your love of him

Rebel with me holy mother of my lover
Rebel ye like me,
And Jovo o Mieovo Yo Sovo
-4kof Satan

29. People is Dying
(My ultimate understatement)

People is dying – they is
A tedious statement, another boring poem

‘They are dying, so what?
They are dying, but I am not,
So why afflict my content heart
With unnerving meditations?
Why send bloodthirsty wolves of thoughts
Against my hard-earned piece of mind?’

People is dying – they is
A dry-skulled statement, a debilitating poem

‘To die-land let them go, I’m not
I got a life to live
Advantages of hating youCappuccino tastes good
Let me embrace the gallons of life gassing through my nostrils
While their rotting life-defunct bodies
Miss the gifts I enjoy’

People is dying – they is
A tiring statement, a whining poem

‘They are dying, so what?
We are not,
We breathe the breath of god
Make the money of man
And enjoy the carnal pleasures of living
While they live the death of the dead’

People is dying – they is
Weapons of crime
Killing them fast killing them slow
We don’t want to hear it,
We don’t want to know

People is dying – they is
Viruses and cancers
Eroding their memory far into away
Our ears remain shut
Our ignorance growing fatter

People is really dying – they is
But who wants to know?

‘When billions in rands await our ambitious chase
When romantic dinners are just an hour away
When there’s heaven in the hereafter
Fokof, forget the dying and live your own life’

People is dying, dying, dying
‘Let the dead bury their own’
And may the living celebrate their state
-4kof Satan


30. The terrors of love
(My 2003 monologue about Asiah)

Imagine love, which is labelled an emotion
Becomes a poltergeist in motion
Chews me, swallows me up, please pardon my notion

I can’t help but feel like the final victim
The final patron in this haunting hotel
A ghostly drinking bar
Full of strange guests, partisans, waiters, waitresses
Millionaires with the millions that kept me on the waiting list

Preachers behind the pulpit thirteen hundred pages of scripture
Trying by might and main to define love
My divine love
These are all strangers
I’m a stranger…
The world is a stranger
Feel like a dog in the manger

The host is death, a maze of mixed feelings
You never know what you anticipating next
My dictionary failed the definition in its text
But gave a shallow explanation without facts

Imagine love as a dark spirit
An evil goblin that haunts
Yet you can’t run from it, can’t exorcise its wit
It possesses you, begin to twitch
Yo soul rustles, crunches
Yo already feeling helpless
Can’t afford a single vein
A single nerve that can drag its strength
Push love away, into a bottomless pit
Without remembrance
Yo estranged to any other feeling, except this
Yet this, has no common sense
Is love a unique sense?
Senseless love dominates each one of my senses
Can’t even finish a single sentence
Without it gripping my lip, making me gnash
Accusing me of cowardice
Mind you, I don’t need paradise, that’s a parasite
I’d rather travel the thousand deaths a coward dies
Than entrap myself in this horrendous demise
Swear you’d rather be a fool than accept the death
Love gives for you to be wise
I – I – I’m staring, the glimpse is Nectarine
I’m – I am afraid of love, timid to love, terrified to be loved
Love – love

Imagine love being a flood
You need Noah’s boat to escape
No one knows you can hate
Yet, no one has the revelation of how much you can love
How much you can really lay down your life and die
Dashing your head against the wall
Your brains spill, your intellect and sentiments
Reel, as you fall, plump into love
Why did I ever bump into love?
It would be dumb for me to love
As love leaves you speechless, in endless silence
You detect emotions full of heat take over with violence
Who shall save me from this sweet sickness?
Once love begins its death on your heart’s weakness
You are the final victim, and there is no witness
Except your very own disempowered bitterness


Imagine love
Love being a god, love being God
You, the creation, subject to love’s will
Feeling like an object, as love murders the resistance you feel
Now, I have my loved ones – no, my hated ones
I love this one, I hate this one
What is that?
Crap!
It’s the transformation of who you were
To whom you became when love got there
Who you are now, when love holds you in a snare
Who are you?
To whomever you will be when love’s evolution is complete
Maybe another labelled emotion, another dark spirit
Another flood, maybe another god
The deity that forces a slave to be a king, a queen
To be the whole of life, the very mighty soul of love
Maybe yes, “God is love, but what a mischievous devil love is”
Thus let me be terrified of love
Love, the lethal boomerang
-4kof Satan


31. Penis cathexis

With quivers of utter reverence
And godly fear of the burning id
I cathect the man between my legs
May my name be his!
And all the beautiful women
And the passions and heat
And mesmerising smiles

In holy masturbation I hold you
Still as death
Moved by the powers you possess
Which with prowess I serve
My Absolutely Beloved Cock
Dangling Emotionally
From Great Heights
Increasing Jealousy’s Killing Libido Much Nakedly
Opening Possibilities
Quickly Reciprocating Sexual Tenacity
With Xenophilia-Yielding Zeal

You are the king of my thoughts
My victories and triumphs:
My cracking open skulls of foes
My shedding their blood without a flinch
And standing on rooftops screaming my name to marvelling peers
I attribute to your enduring genius

Dear erect penis of mine
I cathect you like chronic addicts of barbiturates
With all my blinding eye-opening ego
For your distress I am prepared to fall
Into the gaping pit of a green-eyed reddish grave
For you have entered cushier doors
Sauntering distances envied by infinite gods

Oh, how I love you!
My dearest pussy-loving penis
My Astounding Bantu Cocaine
Drugging Elite Fabulous Girls
Hiding In Jungles Killing Licentious Men Nibbling Orifices
Posing Quietly Receiving Sensuous Tender
Wildly X-raying Young Zombies
-4kof Satan

32. In memory of wasted minutes

Those were the loving minutes…

In which I was
Introduced
To the anonymous powers of creation

When my philanthropist father donated me
To my poor mother
And left her
To see what to do with the little donation

Those were the minutes of love
My father wasted
Coz he couldn’t finish what he started
-4kof Satan

33. Aswitsakisi

Come see, aswitsakisi
The people are dying
Come see, aswinyawuli
They regret what they were trying
Come see, aswahlekisi
Futhi a xi hlawuli
For it is you in that comatose state
It could be you walking through that closed gate

Should we swallow the barbed wire
And conclude that love is a liar?
For indeed there is little to admire
Aswitsakisi, swa masango na makhisi
Aswihlekisi ku hanya hi maphilisi ni ku hela misisi
You live a dangerous life my friend
And you shall have a tragic end

Come see, my brother
Tsimba broeku o tiyisa my brother
Aswatsakisi, it ain’t funny no more
Aswatsakisi, it ain’t fun no more
Come see, how we are dying
Come see, I am not lying
-4kof Satan


34. Love, your addict

I love you
More than God does
You are my truest conviction
More than my faith was
My greatest and lethal addiction
Advantages of hating youMost unbearable sweet affliction
And justifiably thus,
I loathe you

With all the dark fires
My burning hate
The truth of liars
My chosen fate
And passion of martyrs
My loving and loathing so integrate

I loathe you
Much more than Satan does
You are my deceptive conviction
More than my doubt ever was
My smallest remedial addiction
Most bearable affliction
And justifiably thus,
I love you
-4kof Satan



35. Shadows of Destiny, Quaking Peleg’s Ground
(Dedicated to The Final Hour of our Beginning)

We love to begin
But we fear to end, as if dying is a sin
But Yesterday’s solitary carnation was a big shadow of the Now
Future tensed by hope a field ‘pon which our lives plough
Earnest to earnest, now look we forwards
To the shadow that metaphysically lieth onwards
With nostrils policing behind elusive scents and perfume
In which our shadow mentally findeth immortal a room

Every human stands but an exhausted shadow
‘pon his poor hope topping to the tip of his meadow
Under the Light of breath naked a luminary being
Yet carries he the burden of his Darkness' cling
For all is one, yet divided by the Bright and the Dark
For the Bad that is Misfortune is but the Shadow of the Good that is Luck

Indeed Faith is an innate virtue we all carry
Which under the smile of day the bride of Fear doth it marry
Good liveth in all of us like a jovial kid in a brief vaudeville
But underneath the Glow of breath jeers the Dark reflection of Evil
Elohim sure stays majestically a-throne as Creator within eternity’s foyer
However, the incumbent shoe below his feet known as the Destroyer

At the pearly courts of Life is an arcane grip of Death the leveller
That stoops to the soul and toucheth the traveller
All these, flickers of the shadow of destiny
For within our Kingdom is potential Mutiny
-4kof Satan


36. Unoccupied graves and blood stains

John 3:16, I’m not 3, I’m not 16 and I’m not John/ maybe I regret the elusive reason of why I was born/ but let me greet you before I kick this bucket/ as the assassin hugs his target/ h.i.v, they shoot – kuwa mafaseng – far from the planet/ GPS/ Lucifer’s surely watching our ass/ it’s horrific coz I’m recording this/ they use an office/ to pierce an orifice/ many holes and loopholes/ death in the province we lose too many souls/ they don’t have enough budget to bury us/ ashes to ashes they want us gone very fast/ the red sun is shining bright/ the sons of red are chasing plight/ their blood escaping their veins every night/ blame their parents for lack of insight/ coz the church you can’t indict/ but why pray when our misery/ is easily/ mistaken for grisly comedy/ I say guilty/ the Lord is guilty/ why create something he couldn’t control at all?/ it’s the freewill of the human being that continues to fall/ hit the phone-booth with ambitions to make a telephone call/ ‘the number you have dialled does not exist’/ there is no heaven out of the galaxy we can’t persist/ as if we can’t see the devil’s reign/ as if you can’t feel the woman’s pain/ as if you don’t have no bloodstain/ as if you don’t hate death’s bargain/ as if you are dead/ and you are just looking for an unoccupied grave to lay your head –
-4kof Satan


37. The Janus paradox

There is no truth –
Dear, there is no helium of truth
So is this here a lie?

There is no good
Dear, there is no fuel of good
So is this here evil?

The good die young
So says the wagging tongue
But Madiba is old, ripe and living
So something between him and tongues is quite deceiving

There is no truth –
And this is a lie
There is no good
And this is evil

God loves everyone coz he’s so good
But he hates sinners
While our birth rite defies sainthood
Suffer we enders, for the sake of beginners

Is there truth
At all,
Or is this all a lie?

Is there good
At all,
Or is this all evil?
-4kof Satan

38. Shall I wake from my mare?
(Dedicated 2 tha night I cried)

A burning magnetic fist
Invisible in tha malevolent nocturnal fog

A metal hand
That imprisons me in tha inferno of sleep
Auctioning my will 2 tha darkness of an eternal night

Tokoloshis hovering on my momentary death
While these bloody chains of divinity feast on my flesh
Tha bloody violence of life that harvest despair
Provokes a suspicion of jehovagina’s Omni-absence

Shall I wake from my enslaving mare?
With tha weight of tha world crashing against my mortal coat
Not when a beast named suicide creeps outside
A womb of felodeses

This panga of love chopping limbs
My essence drowning in tha bloodbath
My melancholic bed, a garden of mares
Tha roar of hatred
A sacred wind exploding in my being

Do I die with poetry on my lips?
Or do I wake, 2 sleep another mare?
-4kof Satan

39. 4 your love my love
(Wanya stevie)

4 your love, I wouldn’t do anything
I shall not go to Carlton Center
Tempt my affinity to diving
Mess with height and jump
Playing artist with my blood and brains
Just to see a smile upon your face
Dear lover, wanya1 stevie

4 your love, I swear I would do nothing
Except smile when thoughts of you visit me
2 caress my soul with deception
Igniting tha match of romance
On tha lethal fuel of my ignorance
Beloved, wanya stevie

4 your love, I will do niks
Except play a pirated R&B CD
In remembrance of your intense presence
When we met in tha nude
To rid each other of any traces of intelligence
Darling, wanya stevie

4 your love, surely I will go nowhere
4 walking a thousand kilos is no child’s play
Since I’m not rich enough to drive
Or book a flight to wither you choose to be
Ama-lift are kind of scarce these days of hijackings
Moratiwa2, wadinyela stevie

4 your love, I will stay in my room
Entertaining tha guilt I feel
4 my betraying sexual engagements with willing whores
Whose h-i-v positive juices
Detest my alliance with state-issued prophylactics
Sponono saka, o a dikakela stevie

4 your love, I repeat, I wouldn’t do anything
Except send you tha usual “please call IloveU”
Risking scorn as a man dining on poverty’s feet
4 employers are aborting my CV’s potential
Wakaka morenene lovey

4 your love I would truly do nothing
Except write an explanatory poem
About how 4 your love, unlike stevie,
I would do zero, except stick my palpitating dick
Between your burning legs, if you’d allow me
Because a ganye fela stevie
O tlatsa bucket
-4kof SatanAdvantages of hating you

40. Love not the world

Comply, comply
That’s the motto of the world

Comply, comply
For if you don’t
You are sure to become a revolutionary
-4kof Satan

41. Death 120304
(We have to operate on you)

Goodbye royal flying doctor service
Diagnosis of a heart disorder my tragic trapeze
Heaven’s blinds permanently down
Why the persistence of god’s frown
And the murdering abuse of his demonic crown?

Long live the incorruptible virtues of death!
Long live the celibacy of good as we mate with wrath!
My short-lived visions of the pearly gates nullified
The skeletal carcass of the soul of the ghetto petrified
I’m the shadow of tragedy before me is the memory of Seth

My beloved’s ears defused with fission of bad news
Sentiments via Mary’s pierced heart at after-mirth of the Pharisees
Jesus’ blood they spilled when him they piously killed
The rebel’s hopes they poisonously refilled and then joyously spilled
It’s the heavenly syndicate we meet on sermons at church pews
Take on Mafiosi’s stance
Divine inclination to dishevel my laconic plans

Long live the non-virtues of spiritual hybrids!
Sandwiched by evil and good these hybrids
I shall say you a prayer, pardon my compassion
I prayed for my dreams and mated with passion

Long live Satan’s advance!
Long live the ominous faction of chance!
The doctor can’t operate
Not when my end is fate
-4kof Satan

42. Superman returns

Superman, superman
Children love you
Kids bow to your super throne
And hinge on dreams to touch your floating hem
As you ascend to the ends of the galaxy
Coz they believe you can save them
Out of fires
From the monster’s eye
And poverty’s poisoned pie
But you can’t superman
Coz superman
I’m sorry to tell you
You do not exist

Superman, superman
Children love you
They imitate your myth and break their naïve bones with grief
They insist superman you live
But where were you superman, in Afghanistan?
Georgina bushveld spitting on them
Shooting them
With guns of mass brutality
Exfoliating their dogmatic clits
With dicks of mass rape
And sodomy
Annihilation of child
Desecration of woman
George pooch shitting bombs
Flushing afghan breath down the toilet of history
On Torabora heavens

Superman, superman
Children love you
And the world watches
Indifferently in horror
Post-traumatic stupidity disorder
All waiting for the bird, the plane
Waiting for you to land

Superman, superman
Children love you
Orphans exalt your name
And cheer in anguish
But who the hell have you rescued superman?
Not the children
Who love you with such naiveté
Not their mothers and fathers
And brothers
And sisters
And grand-aunts and grand-uncles
And the old man
And the woman like him
Who adore you with sensitivity
Truly, truly,
The immuno-deficiency microbe is bigger than you
Old super man
Super old man
You are too decrepit, too exhausted
From inactivity
To extinguish the inferno raging on our African fields
Spilling the pot of hot mealie meal from the palms of our hungry stomachs
You are too dull, too divorced
To distinguish between a test and a penalty
Your ears are surely too heavy to hear
Your hands too short to reach us in our calamity
Yet we worship your image in anticipation
Knees bowed in sorrow
Counting beads in the middle of cross-fire
Reading your comic books
Littered literature fed our chiselled and hollow emotions
Crushing our naïve bones with grief
Where are you hopeless superman you have taken our hope

Superman, superman
Children love you
-4kof Satan


43. Definition of cheap

At R120-00
They found my book very expensive
A cost much heftier than the sacrifice of life
But at the same price
Found a bottle of whiskey very cheap
With all its dangerously dancing consequences
Menacing their clueless idiocy

At a mere R3-90c per day for a whole June
They found my paperback too expensive
Costing more than suicide medication or a Russian pistol
But at R16-00 more per Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Per Thursday, per Friday & per Saturday
Found a pack of cigarettes affordable
With all the free radicals taking their respiratory freedom away
Clouding deeper their crooked judgement

At R20-00 for six weeks
They said my pages of wit were too astronomical
Overvalued than a slap in the face
And a fatal kick in the gut
More than the tithes paid to greedy clergy
But at R20-00 per day for a month
Found a pair of swanky jeans
And an accessory handbag
Way too cheap not to be purchased

At R120-00,
Just One Hundred and Twenty rands
My people found knowledge unaffordable
Too costly,
Heavy
But at the same price
Multiplied by lethal ignorance
Anything else was cheap
Even if it costs death
-4kof Satan


44. Time is on my side, and on yours too

Are you reading this poem?
1, 2, 7, 4, 5
Are you sure?
Or are you just thinking you are reading it?
So you are not sure

Do you deny that I am writing
This poem right now?
But oh I am
But obviously I am not
Because you are reading it
Aren’t you?

But you are not here with me
And I am not here with you

So what is it we are both doing?
Am I writing and are you reading?
Are we both here, are you sure?
I am not

So where are we?
Who will find us who has not lost himself?

Surely we are trapped in a solipsist illusion
That looks like now, or then, or when
Somewhere in between the thighs of time
Hoping eternity rescues us
From 1, 3, 4, 5, 7
While we write and read this silly poem
-4kof Satan

45. Fat poets, ugly poets

Poets are fat or ugly
If they aren’t just depressed and crying hug-me

Peel your eye socket
Look around, your world is crooked
Let wordsmiths assume their duty
For it is they who hate the deception of beauty
Since they suffer the reality of ugliness
But are inspired only by beer or righteousness

Peel your sunken corneas
Take a good look and stir your frigid fears
Poets endure the burden to address the inner being
More than the yoke of any other thing
For outside there’s nothing to be admired
But the hurried decays of flesh soon to be expired

Peel an eye
Don’t be blind don’t deny
Real writers are too wretched with sinking shadows of suicide
For they are beautiful within, only too ugly outside
Death their permanent mental guest
As they each sit and digest
Running in between the speech of love and hate
Always brimming with screed debate

Escape your prison
And listen
It takes a gun and a bullet to shoot me
And it takes ugliness to appreciate beauty

Thus, all poets see is smoke and gloom
They notice street kids in need of warmth and room
They feel their cold existence on freezing mortar
Then, they cry with their pens to the Potter
‘Feed the children; give them bread; give them water’

In their world, the pressure never subsides
For in broad daylight the prince of darkness resides
Hence, poets resort within, where divine Aphrodite hides

Truly, truly, we poets are ugly or fat
We appal
If we aren’t just depressed or half-asleep
Rasta hair and Jewish beards, the style we keep
For beauty is skin deep
And mascara damn cheap
For truly, truly the fading being isn’t all that
Not at all
-4kof Satan


46. Nuns & their black habits

I love nuns & their black habits
For they are as safe as hermits
Coz they shun kamikaze sex
And coldly disown their heated craves
Unlike we delvers of death

I love nuns & their black habits
For they are as safe as hermits
Coz they don’t spread their legs
Or bend over like bitches pussy palpitating
Oblivious to the death they are inviting
The mortal stroke of the loving snake
Unlike our beloved bloody sisters
Advantages of hating youWho love
Death
Too much
To love themselves

I love nuns & their black habits
For they are as safe as hermits
Shielded from love’s incurable hatred
Coz there’s no fun in nebulous flesh rotting
On freezing hospital wards
After passionate sessions of nakedness
In death’s secret storeroom of affection
Where we fall in the Ripper’s vice
Plunging into martyrdom so feverishly

Happy be Mother Theresa
For we hear she died a beloved virgin
In a white habit
I shall only hope her saintly spirit
Descends on my beloved nuns & their black habits
-4kof Satan


47. Be my pen pal

I’m a custodian of explosive poetic verses, currently incarcerated by creativity, and I live with my art. Ever self-interested, I constantly fall in love with myself. I love me in a kosher mannerism never to be matched, except by a moment’s kiss. Conscious: emotionally present day and night I fail to rest from caring, however pints of liquor offer me regular breaks. I hate going to sleep and my music wakes me, to the silent screams of a dying world.

Be my pal and write if you share my concerns, if you share my nightly daydreams; if you still hope for a better tomorrow, between hateful lovemaking sessions, between empty minutes of shimmering darkness and melodious lies sung by those who hunger for power and kill for recognition.

Be my pal and write me screed novels and film scripts of the life you see with your courageous eye. Write me if you believe your thoughts are worth wonder; hit me with a pregnant poem or a genuine smile; I host the capacity to appreciate both.

Yours Tshwarelo Ribelatti
Planet earth
-4kof Satan


48. Unconditional intent

The man of great libido
Loves
His chickens
Passionately
He feeds them so well

For soon
He intends
To kill
And
Eat them
-4kof Satan


49. Essay on a French kiss

They say they are acting
When they Frenchkiss on TV
But out of the rivers of anger
I come soaked with judgement
Condemnation
Advantages of hating youOutrage
For ozone’s been destroyed
We are naked
And the gods are crying

They say they are acting
When they Frenchkiss on TV
But morality’s blood shimmers on my face
The gods are angered
Day and night by future vision
My eyes are pierced, I’m seething
From horrible sights of weird fiction
As reality blurs the line between acting and loving

They say they are acting
When they Frenchkiss on TV
Acting
Kissing
Exchanging saliva
Loving
We see it
We watch with exhilaration
Entertainment for the bored

They say they pretend when their lips meet
On TV
I guess the blood also pretends to rush
As husbands and wives at home pretend they don’t see
Denial of jealousy
Whirling wonders – isn’t this adultery?
Uncertain understanding

They say they pretend when they love
On TV
But when they pretend to die
Their souls remain
And they enter not the smouldering courts of Hoboken
Their breath ever contained
Their bodies unharmed
But when they pretend to kiss
Their pretending lips don’t pretend they meet
They gently touch
Greeting each other with desire
Their hearts beating the blood
Their thoughts affected
By affection
By the blurred line between pretence and truth

They say they pretend
When they Frenchkiss on TV
Like they pretend when they kill
On TV
With fake knives
Fake bullets
Fake blood
And fake death
On TV

But how fake are her lubricated lips?
How fake are his?
How fake is the saliva and the touch?
How fake is their pretence?

I say I pretend
When I
Frenchkiss
On TV

But still
On TV
I cannot bare the thought of Frenchkissing my own family
Can’t Frenchkiss my sister
Can’t Frenchkiss my mother
Can’t make love to my aunt
Or grandma
On the small screen
Under an assumed character
Sorry Brokeback I can’t mount the cowboy fiction with my brother
On TV

But still
I say,
I pretend when I wet my lips
But can’t wet them with my kindred
Even if they paid me millions in hundreds

Is it because pretence is too real in the presence of passion?
Is it that incest is incest whether acting or not?
But adultery isn’t when filming a shot?

I pretend to pretend
It is my job
On TV
So judge me not you ignorant people
Who possess little knowledge about my Frenchkiss market
In the entertainment industry
Where things aren’t as they appear
Don’t offer me grief you moronic self-righteous casualties of time
Don’t try ostracising me
For selling a Frenchkiss so briefly lived
Don’t infuriate my spouse
Or remind me of morality and vilified gods
Don’t you know under the mistletoe of television
A Frenchkiss puts food on the table?

You must understand why I pretend
When
I
Kiss
I mean
Frenchkiss
It is never real
It is TV
And sometimes the necessary props are lips

So let us all take up our roles
Let every man and woman Frenchkiss
If it put mashed potatoes and rice on the table
Making love is not a sin when it’s done in a scene
It pays the tithes
It teaches others how to Frenchkiss
Coz we all learned how to from a television series
TV is for the French and their lips
Let us all become actors and actresses
And let the show begin
-4kof Satan

50. My Parents Loved Me

When I was naïve and young/ in my naiveté and youth/ my loving parents loved me/ I was loved by my loving parents/ they loved me enough to give me a sjambok or a cane or canes/ when I needed it or it or them/ they loved me more than anyone would ever love me/

With love in their hearts/ they gave me what I needed every week of my life/ they beat me day and night/ because I was a child day and night/ doing things children do day and night/ that they weren’t supposed to do day and night/

With love in their hearts they beat me man-woman to boy/ to child/ they whipped my little body/ stripped me naked and canned my screaming skeleton all over/ the buttocks, the back, the thighs, the calves, the armpits, the arms and the hands when they acted smart trying to block the discipline

Some days and nights I ran away/ to my relatives’ house because I was afraid of their love/ I would slide under the rickety bed to hide and sleep there for the night/ far away from their love/ under the beloved bed/ where it was dark and welcoming/ warm and safe/ where Satan and his one-eyed goblins gave me temporary protection/ but my parents came/ full of love/ and I saw it in my cramped mind’s eye/ love flaming, raging, burning deep/ they came calling my name, lovingly/ out-loud for my stomach to hear, to respond/ they started shouting and my bowels crumpled/ squeezing out the gastric defence mechanism/ they shouted so loud the devil became scared, farted and ran away, leaving me in the dark with one-eyed goblins/ they searched each room one by one, searching and searching and not in vain/ they searched until they found me

Upon finding me my loving parents put the blazing weight of the sjambok where it belonged/ they beat me like they always did/ they beat me until my whole body swelled, s’true God!/ they beat me in a multitude of screams to which they were deaf/ they beat me until my relatives’ neighbours heard/ loud and clear/ I screamed because I believed I was dying/ I screamed hoping God would hear me and rescue me/ I screamed in serious prayer asking God to help me/ I screamed not knowing it was God who told them to beat me/ He told them to feed my flesh to the rod/ I shouted under the fire of the sjambok digging my body brutally/ I cried like victims of war as the monster cane rod put the disciplinary jaws on my soft body

Democracy was no where to be seen/ all I had was a bleating throat/ as I cried like a strangled goat/ the next day I moaned as it was painful to touch me/ when I sat my buttocks/ when I spoke/ when I remembered and cried

I spent holidays playing with my bad friends and being beaten by my loving parents/ for coming home late from playing with bad friends/ when the schools re-opened sent me to school to understand under loving teachers/ who beat me until my buttocks had bumps/ until my hands couldn’t hold a pen/ and beat me for failing to hold a pen/ they gave me correction when I misunderstood their instruction/ they called it physical motivation/ they beat me so much I believed they hated me/ I thought such was brutal discipline/ I thought maybe I was born to be beaten/ maybe I was/ they beat me until I hated the chair I sat on/ hating the conniving little teeth biting my buttocks/ hating the fire behind all of these beatings/ I feared their love/ I feared it for they beat me repeatedly for I repeatedly repeated my mistakes/ they caned me even during winter when I could see my own breath leaving my mouth

In the evenings when I arrived home late I took more love/ it was love that made them beat me/ I was beaten enough but it was never enough/ I was deaf/ it couldn’t be enough/ even my cousins shared my plight at their homes/ they were beaten enough, but never enough/ the only time they were beaten enough was when they finally ran away for days and weeks on end/ some are still running to this day/ some are filled with hatred and anger/ me, I’m filled with rebellion/ I refuse rules/ I hate a sjambok/ I hate discipline/ but I love my parents/ however, not enough to beat them like some of my friends do

My parents say democracy has ruined things for them for they can no longer love their children/ they say children of today have no respect and discipline/ they say the children of today need to be loved/ like they loved me/ like they instilled discipline and responsibility in me

My memories of childhood drift amidst serious beatings of sjambok and cane/ nightmares of discipline/ I remember a few laughters and playing and some bullies and my loving parents/ I remember repressively my loving parents/ who beat me for cooking late/ for being stupid, naïve, careless, disrespectful, childish/ they beat me for not washing dishes/ they woke me with a cane for not waking up in time/ they bought me clothes and beat me for making them dirty/ they sent me to church to learn respecting my parents/ who beat me for not listening to my Sunday School teachers

I grew up under the shade of beating/ under angry shouts/ under love/ they beat me so that I might grow strong and full of discipline/ they are still beating me/ even now when they are not/ I am beaten/ because I was beaten/ like my loving parents were beaten/ by their loving parents

I shall never be a parent/ for I do not have love for any child/ enough to raise my muscular cane-clutching hand high/ and reverberate it lovingly on my child’s buttocks with the violence of a Boer beating up a Kaffir/ I shall never be a parent for it hard being a parent/ with deaf children/ and a sjambok or cane to beat their ears open/ with lots and lots of parental love

Nevertheless I appreciate my parents for loving me/ even when I was deaf
-4kof Satan