Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Empty Confessions Of time by Nkosilathi Sibanda

Of lived fantasies at dark spots,
to the hard to remember night outs,
coupled with joys and fears.

Of all men met, most of whom slept.
Of told passion and hurt,
to the sacred doings of the bedroom,
to the young, ego-full minds of trials and tests,
to the cries of mothers and babies.

Of times when lessons were taught,
to the torrid times when help was sought.
From the struggles of finding the self,
to the victories of accepting what’s ours,
in the company of pain and rejection.

As time is a tradition,
gold rings and music were the reason.
Of the times where weed, locks and perforated pants of the time,
 became tired friends of life.

Up until the gods take theirs, life still
rolls in the music I sing to feel myself,
in the presence of friends,
in the joy that never ends

Of all things done in life
it’s a revelation of self.
A life worth living.

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