Sense4MyThots

I sometimes feel like a co-pilot in my own thoughts. Floating in mid-air,  Letting them take me on different trips. No handle bars to hold on to, So I always have no grip. When drowning in this pool of thought, I swore I would never take a dip. But, Here I am clinching tighter to my heart and Hoping to dear life that I never slip. Slip into a place where I lose control of my thoughts. Becoming practically incapable of making a choice. Then watch my conscience lose it's voice. I don't think there's a sadder sight than  A wise man trapped in a confide space with no way to escape. When I walk in these city streets. I'm always harshly reminded that having a bed is a luxury, That these shoes could have been on someone else's feet. Then, I sit and wonder what good comes out of the lives I see living on these Pretoria streets. Did they just accept defeat? Or, Did they go where ever the wind took them like stems of wheat. ...

Conversations only taking place in my head.  No one warned me about the complexities of this world.  She loves me, She loves me not.  She loves me, She loves me not.  In constant debate with mother nature,  Why can't the universe grant me the promise of everlasting happiness? She loves me,  She loves me not.  I've spent an eternity arguing with my soul,  Trying to figure out how to make me grow so I can transcend to my next life. Always stuck on one thought,  Why does it have to be so complex?,  Why can't we just forever breathe in perfect harmony?  You've always answered me in signs and sounds Universe,  Now is the time to be seen,  Now is the time to be loud.  Now is the time to tell me what I need to learn in this lifetime in order to move on to the next. Is it strength?,  Resilience?,  Forgiveness?,  Love or happiness? I've given mysel...

I was walking to campus before you disrupted my peace. Drowning in my own thoughts, thinking about how today was a beautiful morning.  A beautiful morning that almost ended in mawning. You brought my feet to a stand still and shoved me with your chest. I can still smell your armpits breathe. I can still see the pain in your brown eyes.  And the hunger slipping through the cracks of your lips. Maybe you were waiting for a reaction, But you soon realized i had none to give.  If it wasnt for the earphones i had on, I probably would've heard what you were saying. And if i did, i probably would've responded. After responding, we probably would've traded punches, Enough to land one of us in crutches. But i forgive you because my soul holds mo grudges. You looked at me with eyes that widend with intent. At that moment, I could feel my heart move up to my vocal chords. Each beat being a thought, A thought of whether I should take f...

I know strength , I've seen it lived it,  heard it in the voices of those closest to me,  felt it. I've embodied it. And I've come to comprehend the gravity of what having it means.  So I asked myself, how is it that I  was constantly in fear, enslaved by trepidation, when I knew strength .  I'd seen, lived it, heard it in the voices of those closest to me, its in my veins, I embody it. Yet I was riddled with anxiety and insecurity. I never understood. I've stared strength in the face for 21 years, how could I be scared? Nothing but realisation of this was the cause of my anxiety. The fact that I was born from and related to strength , was surrounded by it, it being all I knew is and was terrifying. What is so bad about humanity that the trait that gurantees an individual's progression,  is not optimism , honesty or kindness ,  not love or  even happiness .  It is strength, and the world demands a...

I understand this hunger for humanity to achieve greatness. It compells us  to live a new life, that of an Alister Crowley type of wickedness. All to feed this great Beast. To never roar like the thunder, to never walk your Road to Santiago. I have lived in my mind for far to long to have let society tell me what is and what isn't. I left my right hand to write out scriptures of what is right and what is left. No you cannot control my desires, my dopamine levels, I do not breathe to satisfy your hunger. We all have our tales and testimonials. Mine is the story of an innocent survivor, I pressed play on the music of the world, which in turn granted me answers sung by the Universe in tongues that I could never interpret. Came back with wounded eardrums due to the immense intensity of the message. No one is ever given choice, kids grow too fast and so did I. Yet I still laugh like a baby during Peek-a-boo. Always in search for answers, always asking the wrong question. Why me? W...

Remember when we were teens?  When we were madly in love?  When we thought every love song was ours?  I mean, when we could chit chat for hours?  Innocent. Young. Pure. We were clueless. Dumb, ignorant and stubborn. I miss that you  Or is it just me?  I mean before it was all about the sex and status. I mean before the ' depressions ',  headaches  &  love triangles ? Before the side dishes, main chicks and so on and on. I mean before you knew you were beautiful? Before the older boys started noticing? I miss that you! Can we like... Go back for a minute? Just re-live it for a minute?  [by. Sive Njana]

Her bronze skin radiating in the soft rays coming from the sunset kissing her skin. Her brown eyes illuminating in the subtle orange, pink and red hues. Her aura playfully lingering in the air hugging her silhouette. Breathtaking in her purest self:  Clothed by her imperfections, Scarred by experience, Shaped & designed by God. A Deity. A Reflection. Me. This is the woman I have become. By: Unako Mjekula

Words chosen with care. Written with flare.  Carrying heavy emotions hoping we share. Why you?  Why you?  It's not fair or clear. I'm not even a writer but i'll write to you.  I'll start over and over, Until I use my best hand-writing. No lies... No clichés...  These are;  Emotions on paper, Heartbeats trapped in echo, Words lost in sound, Motions disabled in motion, Words with just meaning. Words with just feeling. Love letter to a stranger. Love letter to a stranger.  Love letter to a stranger.  XOXO . I hope you write back to this stranger. [by. Sive Njana]

Hearts & souls are in sync  Thoughts rushing in its so hard to think  Moods brightened by that drink. Another love story for the moon to witness  The night's deceiving ..  This love I'm receiving & believing  A moment in time disguised as a moment of truth ... It couldn't be true cause it felt like forever Forever in a moment? Love in a moment? That's Cupid's torment Does love taunt? Or haunt? I don't know but I'm caught up. Caught up in a moment with you. Caught up in a moment with you. [by. Sive Njana]  

Painted Picture On The Wall. Roaches partyin on the floor. Scavenging for giant crumbles. The Tv plays , demanding more of my time. Bathroom window's open. A gast of wind sneaks in, Causing the door to welcome & close ghosts inside. Mumbles & distant whispers from neighbours. My sofa swallows me deep, exhausted by my weight. Cup of coffee , cold & tasteless next to me With something drowin' inside of it. Lost in my mental, Thoughts mate with memories giving birth to scenes of a movie that only plays in my head. Smoke, after smoke... I swear, the only good thing about today I got enough smokes to last me through the day. I just hope it rains to complete a good day. I've always loved all the odd things in this life, like; Rain, Eyes, Silence, Trains, Darkness. My world as little as is, spins in circles. With weak miserable attempts to break free from these mental shackles. I tried, I've lived, Now I am Dying, Lying, Crying, Can...

She dropped her head on the desk in exhaustion. Her chest landed on top of the empty page, Hoping that the reverberations of her heartbeat would write her heart's confessions.  She was blind to words that described how she felt So maybe this was her way of writing in Braille. And in doing so,  Perhaps someone blind to her exterior could read what her heart wrote And touch parts of her soul that don't look tangible to the naked eye. And maybe that would make her feel better: To know that she's not alone . By: | Unako Mjekula |

All my life ive been surrounded by women. No father figures around, so my upbringing wasnt fully woven. Loving and caring were the only languages that were spoken. Hate used to be foreign until i had to walk out the house. And all i would see were fathers and child in hand, A glimpse at mine and I remembered that it was never held. An intoxicated teenager missing his old man, But how do you miss someone you've never even seen? If i had a question pointed at him, the first one would read; "Where the hell have you been?" I was just a boy when my thoughts manifested and turned to an ocean tears. Flooded my face and left my eyes swollen like i just had 10 rounds in a boxing ring. I was forced to grow up fast so i could face my fears, So cigarettes, weed and alcohol became my companion. I couldnt wrap my head around relationships so i moved from one to the next like i was shifting through gears. Before i knew it i was already thinking like an old man, But being...

Don't get me wrong, Men are trash, vile treacherous things that will betray even themselves.a Engineered to want or need women from the day their born. And so from the get go the ball has always been in our court. But we're to busy loathing ourselves and in competition with each other to notice. That discovery and not just the external locus of control has been the source of my many depressions. That all we do on this earth is hurt and be hurt, endure. Tell me what is the meaning of life,  How does the caterpillar metamorph if it is constantly in healing? How does the butterfly relish in kissing flowers when it will either pluck it's wings out? It's self or other animals and forces of nature will do it.  And that ladies and gentlemen is the struggle of the depressed. Futility. What is the point of trying, if the probability of your efforts being thwarted is identical to you succeeding? The metaphor I like using for my depressions...

Oh, you will forgive me I was not brainwashed with the glorification of men that the rest of society has, for I grew up with a woman who procured and provided everything these men are revered no, Praised for; Stability.  Security.  Sanctity.  Authority.  Pride  and Dignity. So no Sir, your manhood, your masculinity doesn't phase me. It stirs nothing but pity for your disillusioned species. A reminder of your impending redundance. By: | Ndalwentle Makunga |

I'm exhausted, so tired from societies tried and tested lies of middle classism. I'm sick and tired of seing black men and women in luxurious fur coats, coats slaughtered from livestock we used to own. With every dead beast is a dead beat black family,  landless, hopeless. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Overworked and underpaid,  yet my jewels would remind you of Pharaohs,  as if this were a God's next life, only my jewels are dept, violence and addiction. A life with no purpose,  but filled with bible quotes about salvation.  Point me to the promised land,  point me to where being black is golden, where black children grow up without ever worrying about their next meal. " But you sure complain alot ", they say. And I, frustrated, respond; " I am merely a tool chosen by God to speak of nothing but the truth ". Sleepless nights, like humans in streets,  only I have warm blankets to cover me from this cold world. We're not so diff...