Alone laying on the bed starring
At the ceiling fantasying about
Dreamcatchers and wolves, while the world
Rotates around me and life seems perfect.
At times I try to figure out my purpose
And look like a fool. During weird hours of the
Night insomnia uses me like a tool to search
Within myself, what is my purpose?
Deep down in my heart I am trying to
Calculate my life like an equation that needs
To be solved. Without any answers my path
To self-realization is unknown
I burn with the desire to seek what I
Was born to do, while everyone around
Me seems to be extinguishing the flame
Damn it I don't know what to do.
My soul feels like its been thrown
In a ditch and left to rot. My heart
Longing to be satisfied with achieving
Greatness, and my mind wanting to be
Aroused like the sexual attraction that
Exists between a man and a woman.
My soul just wants to orgasm when the
Purpose is found.
The soul is an enticing entity that can never
Be filled like the black hole, it just consumes
And consumes till the end of time. However
Its, beauty is rare and uncontainable. This
Letter was written by a soul seeker
"To seek your purpose is to entice the heart, feed the mind and nourish
Words of honor and the words
/ that were true even though pain
/ was with you. Prayers of the heart and
/ the words of the spirit that comforted
/ you. Prayer that lasts and the pain that
/ fades away. You still look back at the times
/ when men had spite towards you. Words were
/ aimed to kill the spirit read more »
The broken black girl
/ singing praises to the almighty.
/ Her fine adjusted vocal cords
/ designed for creating symphonies-
/ is used to show excitement when she
/ is about climax- while making love to
/ Blessed with beauty although empty
/ eternally-every blessing has a specific curse. read more »
Abandoned unity, forgotten trust- all
/ our brothers are living for lust.
/ But alas Africa mourns for the
/ precious gifts and marvelous wisdom
/ given to our forefathers which they showed
/ us with much affection.
/ We have been lead astray, Africa mourns
/ for we have neglected our own. Africans read more »
Brendon Tawanda Takarinda
Johannesburg, South Africa
October 17, 2016
Please sign in to view this writer's contact and/or social links