Sense4MyThots

As much as I'm a pessimist, I've still somehow retained the ability to find silver linings. Let's take the youth for example, impulsive careless, reckless lives lived without thought of consequences, lack of foresight, this is what they or we are described as. And yes all these things have their setbacks, some of which can be eternally scaring. Perhaps I've lived on the other side of the spectrum too long but I admire this. They know a life without second guessing, a freedom that comes with this so called recklessness, they don't sit for hours contemplating the possible outcomes and scenarios that could result from their probable actions. They know happiness, whether it is stolen, or momentary, or followed by harsh consequences they're familiar with the zeal of joy. A spade is a garden tool and not an object that could potentially harm them. They try things, which could go wrong and often they do, but so are the odds for every single thing on Earth, the...

SHOULD I HAVE DIED? When he smouldered me with ‘ love ’ And isolated me from my family and friends When claps, fists and knives came out, I ask the question, Should I have died? When verbal abuse and sceptical jealousy Surfaced until I forgot who I am and what I stand for When my cell phones, my car and my furniture got smashed, When every woman in the vicinity knew him intimately, And laughed at me secretly. Some hounded me with phone calls When I lived in fear not sure if I'd still be alive in the next sunrise. Out of the random physical abuse I endured. I ask again, Should I have died? When he changed women like he changed his undies, Right under my nose introducing them as friends and relatives. When he brought home his gifts from different women. When I had to bail him from jail because of his brawls and uncontrollable rage Hell NOOO…..!!!! Here I am, thank God I had the guts to remove myself from that hellhole. By: SandMak

i dug myself a hole with no easy way to escape.   i don't have the shovel down here with me  and i don't know how to get out.  the thing is that there are people above ground  who know i'm around/alive but don't know that i'm in a hole. i want to call out but when i try  (or at least mean to)  the words vibrate up my throat  and by the time they're meant to leave my lips,  they mask themselves as deep sighs, or change to the automated response of "i'm okay" or go silent. and i sit here,  in the hole,  and it rains more often than not  and there's mud and things crawling out and my skin is cold and numb,  and i pluck at myself,  hoping that physical pain reawakens the part that has died inside of me  and i've become so afraid of disturbing other people's lives and i've convinced myself that i deserve this  and i will let this hole consume me. ...

Carry me home, return me to the ocean , to the warm embrace of icy waters. Let him swallow me whole, fill my lungs with the substance vital for all existence. Capsize all that encapsulates disorder. Carry me home, immerse me in its purity, It's transparency, the only way to filter out all my feculence is for Poseidon to let the ocean engulf me. Return me to the ocean, the caress of his waves to me, has always been soothing his arms the origin of my entity. Gushing waves my only source of serenity.  Carry me home,  I'm beyond fatigued, ultimately rest is all I seek. By: Ndalwentle Makunga

I feel like I’m painting a masterpiece for an audience of blind people... Always fascinated by what hovers above us, As a kid,  planes are what caught my eye, As a teen, adolescence is what got me high, But these days I’m drawn into what lies in the clouds and beyond . Telescoping,  Trying to find the centre of the Earth, So I place my chair in an observatory Sit down and stare; Look at the contradictions we lay upon ourselves... Look at the existence of mankind living under appalling conditions... Living a life held together by stitches..  Look at the kids that get boozed up and lose their self-respect just to spite their parents... I ask of nothing but for you to look at death with the eyes of the blind... Touch it. Feel it. Caress it . Because you’ll never see it unless it’s lying in an open casket. A sad sight ive already seen, I often see how people get torn between being bad to do good and speaking lies t...

They say; “Saying less is best”, But those are just sentiments of the repressed. The day-to-days of this world bottled up in their chest. Horrors that leave them tossing and turning with no rest. Inflicting pain on themselves, the only “plausible” escape. A few slits on the wrist, Vision starts to fade as her sight turns to mist. Her life slowly slipping though her clinched fists. Frustrations sitting comfortably on the shoulders. If she survives, Suffocation her next attempt. They say; “Love is for the weak, An excuse for two people to meet”, But those are just sentiments of people that need it most. I’m talking about those that carry themselves like amphibians. Cold-blooded when they speak. As if ice was stuck between their teeth. Wakes up every morning driven by greed. More than two decades of existence and not a single good deed. Hurting from lingering grief. Reaching out to him deemed ...

I walked out the house and felt out of place. Looked up and saw cracks in the sky, And what we call space, Was just that, an empty space. Thats when shock struck my face. Riddle me this, what is life if we treat it like a race,  Then leave the earth with no trace? Imagine the unimaginable; Losing sight of your tangibles, Human race turning into vegetables, And seeing the same events that you once read from The Crucible . I walked out the house thinking ill make it back, But along the way my life got jacked, Does this fit as a stolen moment? Or was it a failed attempt at facing my opponent? Either way, im glad its all fiction.  Just words and diction. One's mind shouldnt be a prison but a prism,  So light can shine through you,  And be bright enough to seperate the bad from good. By: Nceba Thabethe

I hate people,  Actually I hate human minds.  Typical, just so typical, no progress no change.  Just selfish minds who do not understand the concept of one for another, an arm for an arm, a leg for a leg. It bothers me. They talk of the greats but stay average, And of course you'll think I'm mean but I'm not  Let me tell you what I mean. Let's take back the land, let's take back the land.  And I'm in the back seat thinking, damn these people are foreward, they take it further and call themselves forward thinkers, I on the other hand take a step back and I ask myself what is the correct way to go forward? So fvck your land!!! Fvck your after parties and fvck what you fighting for cause it isn't the cause you should be fighting for, fvck these policies that cause us to think the same, fvck everyone who don't think the way that they should!!!! But wait, aren't I contradicting myself?  Unity? That should have been th...

Wise words from a good villan, Slum villages slain by Goliath, What a monopoly, What a catastrophe, It bothers me, The stench of destruction, Duplicating the Devils blueprints for hell, Is this reality? In actuality it saddens Me, I was looking for truth, instead I'm just stuck between vanity or scrutiny of my own self, Staring into broken mirrors, I've kinda figured we're all disfigured, Picture broken mirrors, I've kind of figured we need to be reconfigured, Superstitious cover mirrors , hide your teeth son, They told me it's okay not to smile from a young age, thunderstorms on every Monday, Thinking freedom is on payday, We still smile, We don't need to cover up the pain no more, We didn't get a chance to play or to laugh at jokes, We just grew up too early, We forgot how to laugh. By: | Mfezeko Booi |

The fear I was once governed by morphed into apathy,  I'm yet to discover which is worse, heaven help me. My soul, my spirit it's exhausted.  My cup is once again empty, and riddled with holes, energy poured in gushes out The cold ceramic sends shivers down my spine. Tired and punctured. Hollow and cold. Oh well... By: | Ndalwentle Makunga |

You haven't asked, but I'll explain to you my existential dilemma. I'm the embodiment of an oxymoron,  I have an abundance of love, but cannot express affection.  Mine is an undying loyalty but I will not allow myself to get attached to anyone I have the desire but never the initiative. Why? Four letters F-E-A-R Or by my own definition; conditioning. Honestly, I've been enslaved by trepidation for as long as I can recall And twenty years later ,I'm apparently being set free,  RUN twenty years in chains I can't feel my ankles, and my feet, are charred, blistered, deeply cut  But I'm free RUN! I stand stupefied,  maybe by the sudden reality of my freedom, and the improbability of my survival considering my injuries. And my enslaver ensues, with bigger heavier chains. I stand stupefied, haunted by the ghost of the chains by which I was bound. I should run? I can run? Forever caught in a trap of cyclica...

I feel her dying The pessimist, the realist ,the self doubting, the anxious. She's starving , feeds on deattchement & self loathing  and its been 3 months since she got a full plate, gnaws at past demons seeking nourishment. All in vain, hypothermia has already set in, she heaves, moribund. A different plant is being watered now Pollinated by acceptance and honesty. I feel her budding,  blooming,  blossoming, colored with confidence, bearing fruits of extroversion, joy, freedom and a satisfaction with oneself. She grows  and there's nothing I've found more exhilarating than having her come to life in me. By: | Ndalwentle Makunga |

Men are terrible, that's the conclusion I've come to Sadistic creatures, that when broken, feed off their loved ones' misery, They are despicable. Waltz into our lives with promises; to love, to protect, to honor, and leave you cut by the shards of those broken promises. Is it that their love is volatile? That their nature has taught them to be rough even with the most tender of hearts fluttering at their fingertips? Maybe its in their genetic make-up that they're just born brutes. Anger, jealousy and animosity flow in their veins Attempts at what they would call love have left me in tatters. Perhaps it's the weight of entitlement, patriarchy, pride, power and sexism They're born to inherit from their first cry, manhood already looming, that shatters their humanity Nonetheless it doesn't make them any less revolting. But maybe I should I explain, why I believe men are humanity's fungus, a green indigo bush that spreads bacteria by ...

Blessed be the ones that live without pessimism,  The glass is half full type,  While someone is whispering 'don't cry over spilt milk' as I convince myself that there wasn't any water to begin with,  Excuse the God complex,  I was told to believe that I was made in her image, so excuse my self love and don't take it as self louth,  Let us not exist in the spiritual but Let us us sing our songs and  Let us write our letters hoping that these thumbed sucked addresses become real and replies become consistency till my broken rib is replaced. By: | Mfezeko Booi |

Love is not always on time but when it arrives, who can deny it? When it's in sight, who can hide it? When its lost, i pray cupid helps me find it. But why do we define such? Why do I call it "love" when it gives  me so many other emotions? When im jealous, it plants hate, unease and anger inside of me Yes, a devilish act this love bestows upon me But if we genuine and honest, this love could fill up oceans Then we'll pack our hearts into suitcases and sail East,  towards Cape shores,  And continue our quest for soul searching. Because the absence of love is like a mannequin dressed for winter, staring at the world through windows of a clothing store, warm on the outside but always cold when you look at the eyes, the inside. So please dont turn me into a mannequin. Because where there's no love, warmth never visits.  And when love comes knocking, i dont want to go looking for the nearest exit Running away from the best...

Look up at the night sky, listen with your heart, and understand what your eyes are whispering to you. Every star has to implode from within in order to start shining.  You are a warrior, forged from the finest steal, you are here for a reason, maybe you have found yours, or you are simply ignoring the signs. Learn not to resonate at the same frequency as layman, But learn to groove at the tune of your own drum, know that you are the creator of each beat and each rhythmic pattern. Dream your own dream and not the dream of the planet, remove yourself from the very same shackles that were used to restrain your fallen brothers and sisters. We were not born the same, so why should you let society try to mass manufacture our dreams, visions and lives?  Remove me from this dream and rather place me amongst forgotten faces in forgotten places. I am not of this Earth, I am rather, of God's creation. I am he and he is I, and no man or man made domesticatio...

Who are you? Are you proud of what you've become? Proud of the cynide filled bronchi you call lungs Nicotine in your veins that with every rhythmical pump sing CANCER And sure everything causes cancer, but you seduce it. You put on lacy red lingerie, that Chanel number nine and sing it some Otis Redding Are you proud that you've become the complete opposite of what your mother raised you to be? Does that make you happy? Does it fill you with glee? Are you pleased with yourself? The fact that your idea of fun involves being intoxicated beyond self recognition and not being able to recall the very events which you believe were a "good time" Are you happy at the girl who looks at you in the mirror? Do you see yourself and think "Aah...  this is what I aspired to be" Does the girl who looks back at you smile from the inside out? Or does she chide, look at you with discontent, make you feel inadequate because e...

I blocked my heart from all types of feelings,  It got so cold I even struggled when I tried to breathe in, Best believe me, you were never meant to make it into my heart, Somehow you crept in while a nigga thought we were outchea having fun,  So welcome to my world, are you sure you want to stay here  It's full of fears and dark thoughts, My fear of being alone has pushed all forms of happiness aside, If you are contemplating  being attached, just know I wanna hold you tightly  But I shut down or run at the very mention of emotion So when a tear rolls down your face, I'll probably be at your place with you right on my chest and kiss the pain away, But I cannot lie to you,  I will fall for you or I will not,  I will catch you or let your bones kiss the ground,  I'll be your blessing or I'll be a loving curse that you've found,  I have stood at the edge of the earth and I heard your voice call,  but...

Die Die a slow agonizing death Die and bleed out all the memories, amicable gestures, and the "i love you"s Be gone and let your wretched spirit not linger on and hover about Die and i'll watch you kick and scream, searching for a lifeline, anything to keep your damned soul from the claws from hell Die and I infact, will hold your hand as you take your last breath, as your chest contracts and retracts for the last time, as your eyes begin to blur and you can taste the non-existance that becomes you Bitter, isnt it? Die, Because your existance has served no greater purpose than to reek havoc in my life, terrorise my heart, and disorganise my dreams Die, Because what you give is momentary happiness that makes me crave an eternal joy that i will never attain Die and No, you will not be buried in a safety coffin, No If you ever decide to resurrect yourself you will still die Because the airtight casket in which you were buried...

Months have come and months have passed. It gets even harder trying to make something last because before you know it, its a blink of an eye and all is forgotten. It's said that time waits for no man. S4MT still lives. It might not be as consistent as it used to be but we haven't left it all for dead. Thats why we would like to continue from where we left off by introducing yet another talented writer from East London, who currently resides in Port Elizabeth. Mfezeko Booi is yet another writer/poet that will join the S4MT movement in sharing pieces of his poetry. This is just the beginning of greater things to come. We hope to keep feeding you with as much creative juice as we possibly can. Sonnets&Poetry will be back on your timelines from tomorrow onwards and we'll share Mfezeko's first pieces. Just to introduce you into his world of creative writing. If by any chance you read this and would like us to publish your pieces on our blog, send us an email at: sen...

She said that she would rather be dragged through the mud than fall in love, Would rather have broken bones and a broken skull than lose her mind over a lover, I told her it's about patience, don't worry girl you'll find the one, She said she had found the one, one two many times, Spent one too many nights with her heart aching, her soul shaken, and her body bruised, She told me that she had given up more then she wanted to, Told me about when she was carrying her developing offspring within her body, how he kicked her womb Till she heard her unborn's heartbeat fade away,  That was her one true love a dead bruised fetus, who from dust came and to dust did her love return,  I told her to believe, that her tears shall one day turn to tears of joy,  She told me of the cold nights she spent with rope in hand, how she was never afraid to leave this world,  She never understood why the sun had chosen to shine on others, while she got hailstorm ...

Scars.  Scars on his back. Constant bashing.  Constant sadness. Tears rolling down his face,  It's the same road all over again.  What a similar feeling.  Everybody needs him.  He screams,  for in his pursuit of happiness he is alone.  Just a lonely star in the cosmos, a galaxy full of stars, all just alike them but none resembling him. Constant bashing, constant scars on his back.  Whiplashes, whiplashes. Stop it. Stop it.  He is supposed to be strong. He needs no pillar. He was born alone and alone he shall die. By: | Mfezeko Booi |

This is to the dad that i never knew. But... I knew i always had. You know, like the ones that leave the house and say they'll be back soon. Then you grow the rest of your childhood days peeping through the window, waiting for his "soon" to come a day early. I still think of how different i wouldve grown up, had you been around.  I still wish i knew more about you than just a voice i heard over the phone. Today it finally makes sense why i grew up as an angry, short tempered teenager. Your absence as my old man ate me up like cancer. And you the same person i was supposed to have looked up to?  Over the years I learnt to treat women far more better than you ever could, so thank you for the lesson. Not trying to paint any pretty pictures. My question is, Where are the father figures? The same ones that leave and paint an incomplete picture, A family tree with a broken branch. But im now in my 23rd year of not having y...

The bounce in my step rendered me an outcast  The insufficient length of my hair amplified the contrast  and the clothes i wear make your skin crawl. See i wasnt like them,  and frankly it didnt bother me, Oblivion is where i lived,  however my indiffrence and nonchalance seemed to only irritate them  Not only was i different but i seemed to be content. So they took it upon themselves to destroy me  Impose societal rules that would entrap me,  Laws that would inhibit me and Norms that would justify them hating me  They slowly,stripped the essence of me off me. My dignity.  Filled me with so much self hatred I started to hate all those who resembled me.  Which bred jealousy  and I was filled with envy every single time I saw one of my brothers succeed.  Fueled by greed, I stooped to unimaginable lows in quest for my success.  Corruption too, now feeds the beast that is n...

She humbles herself to the depths of the earth  She conforms to norms set before her birth  She graces faces with her presence  She exudes raw essence  But craves acceptance  Her confidence is filled with doubt  So she wanders off round about  To seeks for her own soul  Under extravagant shoe soles  Slowly she changes her roles  She’s too afraid to break down her own walls  To answer the voice in her head that calls  She’s left encaged in her own mind  Her vision of beauty is so blind  She will never realize she is one of a kind  But over time she will learn to love her Society will be forced to accept all of her The so called standards will have to be raised to her level  But only once she realizes that she is a priceless jewel  Her in-sync footprints write a novel  An incredible story just waiting to be told  But we...

Forgive me im human  What I touch i break,  What survives I destroy  and I do all of this unintentionally. So forgive me. I'm fragile but I exploit the weak  Antagonise every being but me  Pain is only pain when its felt  by me.  Nevertheless, My apologies. By: | Ndalwentle Makunga |

Sense4MyThots welcomes our poets for this month's installment of Sonnets&Poetry. We had a good run last year which is the main reason we decided to extend it for a bit longer. Please leave comments and share your thoughts on the pieces that will be published or join the community and share your own poetry. E-mail: sense4mythots@gmail.com A Movement. Moving People Through Views.

Does He still care, When the innocent blood has dried up on the streets, And the bones of children lie dispersed in the wilderness? Does He still see, The tears of mourning friends, The sweat on the brows of broken men? Can He still hear, The cries of young maidens being stripped of their innocence, The breaking bones of mistreated mothers, sisters and daughters? Can He still feel, The loneliness of the unloved orphan. The rejection from the world of the crippled and ridden with disease? Can He still smell, The burning skins of misunderstood civilians. The decay of the bodies of long forgotten elders? Does He still love, The sinner who finds comfort in their addictions, The prostitute who finds her only happiness in the arms of her men? Can He still forgive, The thief who steals to feed his starving family, The murderer who baths in the blood of his mother's killer? By | Silindile Ngwenya |

You crazy bum You look at yourself from pieces of a broken mirror Trying to catch your eyes in motion You put your hand on your lips seducing yourself You look deep into your eyes Hoping to catch a glimpse of your soul You thinking ... "These pieces are beautiful " So many , broken , messy , dangerous but beautiful . Minutes turn into more minutes You smile crazy You smile for yourself You smile for him You smile for the world You're learning your own smile Trying to mirror your reflection from the world's eyes ... You frown Do the asian eyes Jerk your lips & reminisce Pout a little ... Then you admit at how goofy & weird you are ... Yes You Are Weird . Your mind & your face in one voice One voice in so many faces You say your name You say it more than twice You convince yourself you are them All of the faces on the pieces You are them .... Somedays you feel like them Somedays look like them Somedays you want to be them Som...

Pray , they say . Pray that your demons do not manifest. Find the light, they say. Find the good in this world and hold on. But, I am friends with my demons, and darkness is my home. And good can only be seen through the eyes of a child, Mine, aged and impure. Smile, they urge . Smile and show the world you are strong. Laugh, they urge. Laugh all your worries away. But, my smile will only mirror the cracks I have in my heart. And yes, I will laugh, till tears roll down my cheeks. So that the world will not be able to see that I am breaking down. Have faith, they encourage. Trust in Him, His time is perfect. Practice patience, they encourage. Perseverance grooms all man. But, I do believe in the Unseen, my demons are a reminder of that. Surely His time is perfect but I do not live forever. And my physical being lives under the oppression of time. Help, I ask. Deliver me from I. Bring Salvation to my soul, Before my demons take me to their home. By: | ...

Words fall to this page like leafs off a tree. Still ask myself, "What comes with being a born-free?" Is it a past we never had to see? Or Is it the present thats as bitter as salt from the sea?

Moon Light, The same moon light That makes my night sky, bright. I go all day thinking about you. Waiting... Hoping you come an hour early. But only at night do you show your face. Only when the sun is gone do you want to stay. Sometimes you smile from cheek to cheek. Sometimes you hide behind the clouds as you brighten up dark alleys, and Sometimes you look like a soccer-size ball hanging in thin air. Moon light, The same moon light That makes a dusky sky worth my sight. I cant think of a better place id rather be, Than in space, In plain sight, sharing the gallaxy with a cluster of stars. I sometimes stare into the sky, searching for my star. Stare into the sky as if i were staring at her. Her, being the star i can collide with. A collision better than The Big Bang Theory. Midnight moon light, Show me the milky way. The path that leads me to your soul. Her soul. Because living out here has become a useless cause. And all i want is to get away. Escape... B...

A rush of adrenaline with every stroke of artistic mashochitic creation. Could it be another untitled master piece on the horizon? Or just a cliché? Caused by the lack of substance in his mental maybe? Sometimes I feel like a young Charles Buwaskim But love is my escape. These sheets are our prison bars Trapped inside each other 25 to life. I could do you forever & ever But fuck it ... I mean fuck poetry , emotions , word play & shit. Why film your life in words when you could really live? Its twisted though, cause even your favourite film has a script I look at these words and feel stripped Exposed to those with minds so sharp they're confused by their own thoughts ... But if its blood that you want. If its war that you want. Just look up the crystal moon. I don't do poems  for you no more. I don't do poems for you no more I don't do poems for you no more. I don't do poems for you no more This This just ... The voice inside my head , t...

God's creatures, With godly features. Dont stare too much into that mirror. I know it must be hard for you, since you always feeling blue. And use the mirror to alter your mood. But what's sad to see is that even if i told you, you beautiful. You wouldnt believe me until you stood in front of a mirror. As you murmur: "Oh mirror, mirror on the wall" "Who is the prettiest of them all? Tell me ill make Kings fall to their knees" Thats all i ever hear these days. A year ago i thought it was all a phase. But here we are, still rewinding the same tape. God's creatures, With godly features. You sit in your nest like a bird with no wings, Your eyes tell me you scared to take flight because you've been told its a long way down. But have you forgetten? Forgotten that we learn from picking ourselves up. So before you leave your nest today just remember, Like birds, we need to stay above ground, Fly high enough to stay above clouds. Becaus...

Ancient Love, they might have called it. Deceased, they might have proclaimed it. Within the two parallel universes, grew a flower A forgotten seed of past memories. Appreciated only after a small infinity. Through swirling storms and sunny summers, The flower concieved in barren land still grew. It roots, The sole connection between the parallel universes. Its Co-creator watched it whither through starly gates. In a leap on faith, he plucked it from its cosmoral ground. Only to watch it bloom in his healing hands. "A miracle" , he called it. "A future within a past" ; "Life in death" , he exclaimed. Moved by the abrupt energy spawned by the being, With the healing hands. Another of the flower's Co-creator was inspired. Even between galaxies and separation of time. Each creator believed in its creation. Planted in a world that niether could fathom. Reconciled once more, under a sole purpose. The flower grew more radiant than be...

Sense4MyThots would like to introduce a new addition to the movement. Sonnets&Poetry is a segment that'll focus on just poetry.  From the help of our guest poets,   Slindile Ngwenya and Sive Njana, S4MT will be sharing their journey of sonnets and poetry. We hope our readers will enjoy this segment because these people are really creative writers that have allowed to put themselves out there. -S4MT