For Profit

The real opportunity for success lies within the person and not in the job.

Zig Ziglar

You gave me your love
Free of charge like a prophet
That’s benevolent.

And i
Sold it for a few bucks
Just to make a profit.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

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They Sold Us

Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well.

Mahatma Gandhi

They sold us beauty in a bottle.

They said it would throttle our ugly
So that we all can look like a model
Striding slowly, up-down the runway.

They sold us beauty in a bottle.

They said that if girls grow long the hair
On their heads and on their eye lashes,
It would make all the boys start to stare-
And their desire to rise from the ashes.

They sold us beauty in a bottle.

And said the oil – in it would spoil
The tough toils of scars ploughing our face,
To sow seeds of ugly in the fertile soil
That so seek to make us a disgrace.

They sold us beauty in a bottle.

And said it would throttle our ugly.
Yet i’m not sure if it worked on me
For although i look like a model
I still don’t feel attractive at all.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

No Silence From Violence

We’re all people man! Why you gotta hate?

People of my brethren
Fighting among themselves
In the country that borders
The one i was born in.

Black on black violence
I’ve been stunned into silence.

So watch on in ambivalence
As the ambulance driven by a white man
Sings it’s sad siren song.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

This poem was inspired by the recent xenophobic attacks that have transpired in South Africa as well as in Zimbabwe.

I am lost for words so i don’t have much to say, hence i just preferred to pen this poem and publish it with a wish that all forms of violence will diminish.

Tears That Try To Be Tough

The real secret of patience is to find something to do in the meantime.

We humans

Have been blessed by the Gods up high in the sky with a home as fertile and tranquil as our beautiful blue earth.

For many many many a millennia, our ancestors have never lived in fear that this world of ours will one day shed a tear because she fears she might not make it into the near future.

Yet how dear things appear to be now, the state of our current circumstance is as dire as a fighter losing his stance in an all important championship bout with an opponent ready to break his hip.

The rains have now developed an attitude so shy that they now try to stray as far away from us as possible, in aim to drown us in drought.

The once courageous clouds now cry whenever they have to fight smoke particles in the sky in contention for the right to rule the skies.

The sun is hotter than she is supposed to be, because she is so pissed at us for f**king up her husband – the earth.

Our oceans are rising up against this injustice of dumping waste into their depths, which makes me pray that i’m not here when things do get violent.

Whilst sitting behind my stool in the library trying not to appear a fool, i have sometimes wondered what it is has led to the overall drastic decline in the beauty and habitability of our home.

When was it that we decided to stop caring for our natural environment?

In the industrial revolution that so brought about our evolution on a technological scale, yet so endorsed the pollution of the air that we breathe, the water we drink and the soil we deeply sleep in when we rest at our time of death?

I can’t help but think how paradoxically detrimental it is that we kill our own environment in our efforts of living longer lives.

Even me,

I am not a bystander in this for many a time have i smoked a joint by the lake, just to take my thoughts of the conundrum we find ourselves in.

Will we manage to reduce and reverse the adverse effects of all our commercial activities or will i – just like the Earth right now – shed a tear because i will not be here if our beautiful blue earth is not here?

Black Beauty

I am not the man i was yesterday. I do not care about the far future – unless it is to make sure that the lives of all people are sweet like the sugar from a cane.

Beauty seated by the bench
With a bunch of brown boys i don’t know.

All of them trying to show
Just why you should open the door
Between your legs to them.

Beauty seated by the bench
With a bunch of brown boys i don’t know.

Do you know?

There’s a poet out here
That will most likely shed a tear

If you do not open your heart to him.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Buy me a pen and paper?

A Good Samaritan

Don’t let yesterday – take up too much of today.

Shall i thank thee for being good to me?
When times were tough and most men were quite rough
In stuffing ideas of who i should be
Down my throat so that i will want to cough.
When times were tough – like a desert in drought
The oasis of my dreams started to dry
Up faster then a speeding car on route
To clinic for there’s an emergency. –
You were good to me like the men that bring
Items of aid to the victims of war,
So i know in this poem, that’s the one thing
I will have to thank thee deeply for, for
You were to me a good Samaritan
That warmed my life, better than summer can.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Tough Toiling

Lack of knowledge is darker than night.

Young man on a quest in life to be the best.
At whatever it is you set your heart to.
Toiling hard every single day without rest-

Like students study to prepare for their tests
Just so they will pass with points that are not few.
A man on a mighty quest to be the best.

Walking with the sun on her path, east to west
To go milk the cows just before they cry moo-
Every single day working hard without rest.

In the garden getting rid of all the pests.
Working till the bright day loses all its hue.
Young man on a quest in life to be the best-

Like a bird in the dawn rising from its nest
To catch first the worm on its way to the zoo.
Hard at work everyday toiling without rest.

I respect your commitment to the chase but
Be careful not in winter to get the flu
If you're a man on a quest to be the best
Toiling hard day in day out without much rest.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Lazarus Shatipamba