Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

You are a Sorry Exuse of a Man

Enlarge poem

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, more potent than the punches across his face.
Each punch intoxicated by the anger residing within her.
Each blow he takes out of the love he has for her.
In his endeavours to endure,
He wonders what went wrong.

He wonders what went wrong.
When were his balls ripped from his sack?
Was it the time when chivalry was branded on his brain?
“Ladies first”, his childhood chant.
“Never lay your hand on another woman”
These are the words that now shackle him from retaliating against the beatings of his wife

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word probes the question,
When did it all go wrong?
When did her I-love-Yous turn into words of despair?
When did the woman of his dreams become the witch the provokes his nightmares
When did it all go wrong?
Was his lack of occupation, the reason for his emasculation?
Guess that’s why she now wears the pants in this relationship

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, a constant reminder of his failed attempt to get help
An incense to conjure up a trance of reminiscence
To a time he wailed abuse to Constable Mazibuko.
Help was never offered.
Only an audience of constables to laugh at his reiterated shame.
Concealing a question in mind:
“How can you call yourself a man?”

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, her attempt to drown the memories of her mother’s cry
Over on insecure husband’s beating
This assault would not end until she is barren of her dignity
Stripped of her maternal divinity
“I will never end up like my late mother”
This vow is the venom her punches are laced with
But her punches are not enough to silence the screams of her past

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans in her search for a weapon.
She returns to be welcomed by a shell of a man
With a gun at hand
His tears, the only evidence of his bled out heart
The embers of his pride sizzling his last resistance
Fuel his meek attempt to aim at her heart of stone
In that one final moment between husband and wife
“I’m Sorry” are the last two words she hears
Before Three Shots were fired

Tshepo Blackhole

Featured Poem:

Aphrodite's Misdeeds

Enlarge poem

I hate your misdeeds, Aphrodite
I curse your name from here to infinity
I loathe how your creation creates misery
Turmoil within this temporal vessel

Muggles, beware!
The cupid’s arrows are laced with infatuation
So when it strikes your loving organ
You will see mirages of a happily-ever-after
That will soon be a Never-ever-after

There is no art in how daggered hearts crumble
Nor the death of shattered souls being viewed by loved ones
Mourning cascades crooning an obituary
“Here lies a fool beckoned by Aphrodite”
How much longer must we endure your crimes
Before you pay for your sins
Or are Gods too holy to atone for their darkness

And when love comes kneeling in desperation
Seeking for an invitation in your life
Please ask her…
Please ask her…
Ask her, where did she bury Romeo’s body
Ask her if Juliet had fun following in his footsteps
Ask her if ‘Crazy in Love’ was playing in the playground when Othello choked the life out of his beloved
Please ask her whether Gatsby’s fated fatal bullet wound burnt out of Daisy’s fondness

See, Love has never been kind to foolish souls, soldiers
For too many times we have died on her battlefield
Words of your friends act as feathers of Osiris
Reviving orphaned feelings only for them to be slaughtered
Again.
There is no joy in this venture
So, stop being a martyr of a lost cause
Disciple of a twisted belief

And please
For the love of God, please.
Don’t liken love with God
For love is a religion
And I ain’t a believer
So forgive me for hesitating to step into church

Sometimes, you just got to accept some facts.
Love was never meant for muggles like me
I’m too hollow to follow the broken beat of this organ
I beg of you
Plead with you
Donate the scarred remains of what used to be my heart
To a dead carcass nearby
It has more use for it than I
Purge its meanings from my existence
So, when my supposed wife comes knocking at my door

Tell her my spirit is vacant
Whenever she tries to call me her soul mate

Tshepo_Blackhole

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (0)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Comments

  1. My man!I saw you on SHIFT and i so loved u!u recite a every good poetry man.keep up the good work!

    Aaron Mokopa

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

The name, Tshepo Molefe. Also known as Blackhole on stage. This pseudo name is a reflection of who and what I am, from my short nature (which I inherited from my mother) to the anger that I bring on stage and the hatred I am still trying to extinguish with my pen.

I write to change perceptions and hopefully to inspire change in a person’s life and view on things such as love, what poetry is and the misconception of man being invulnerable. I feel like as poets, it’s our duty to not only just write to be dope or to compete, but we need to touch life with our craft and build a better society through our wordsmith. That is what my art aims to do, and one day will.

Tshepo Blackhole

Tshepo_Blackhole
Tshepo_Blackhole

Biography

The name, Tshepo Molefe. Also known as Blackhole on stage. This pseudo name is a reflection of who and what I am, from my short nature (which I inherited from my mother) to the anger that I bring on stage and the hatred I am still trying to extinguish with my pen.

I write to change perceptions and hopefully to inspire change in a person’s life and view on things such as love, what poetry is and the misconception of man being invulnerable. I feel like as poets, it’s our duty to not only just write to be dope or to compete, but we need to touch life with our craft and build a better society through our wordsmith. That is what my art aims to do, and one day will.

You are a Sorry Exuse of a Man

Enlarge poem

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, more potent than the punches across his face.
Each punch intoxicated by the anger residing within her.
Each blow he takes out of the love he has for her.
In his endeavours to endure,
He wonders what went wrong.

He wonders what went wrong.
When were his balls ripped from his sack?
Was it the time when chivalry was branded on his brain?
“Ladies first”, his childhood chant.
“Never lay your hand on another woman”
These are the words that now shackle him from retaliating against the beatings of his wife

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word probes the question,
When did it all go wrong?
When did her I-love-Yous turn into words of despair?
When did the woman of his dreams become the witch the provokes his nightmares
When did it all go wrong?
Was his lack of occupation, the reason for his emasculation?
Guess that’s why she now wears the pants in this relationship

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, a constant reminder of his failed attempt to get help
An incense to conjure up a trance of reminiscence
To a time he wailed abuse to Constable Mazibuko.
Help was never offered.
Only an audience of constables to laugh at his reiterated shame.
Concealing a question in mind:
“How can you call yourself a man?”

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, her attempt to drown the memories of her mother’s cry
Over on insecure husband’s beating
This assault would not end until she is barren of her dignity
Stripped of her maternal divinity
“I will never end up like my late mother”
This vow is the venom her punches are laced with
But her punches are not enough to silence the screams of her past

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans in her search for a weapon.
She returns to be welcomed by a shell of a man
With a gun at hand
His tears, the only evidence of his bled out heart
The embers of his pride sizzling his last resistance
Fuel his meek attempt to aim at her heart of stone
In that one final moment between husband and wife
“I’m Sorry” are the last two words she hears
Before Three Shots were fired

Featured Poem:

Aphrodite's Misdeeds

Enlarge poem

I hate your misdeeds, Aphrodite
I curse your name from here to infinity
I loathe how your creation creates misery
Turmoil within this temporal vessel

Muggles, beware!
The cupid’s arrows are laced with infatuation
So when it strikes your loving organ
You will see mirages of a happily-ever-after
That will soon be a Never-ever-after

There is no art in how daggered hearts crumble
Nor the death of shattered souls being viewed by loved ones
Mourning cascades crooning an obituary
“Here lies a fool beckoned by Aphrodite”
How much longer must we endure your crimes
Before you pay for your sins
Or are Gods too holy to atone for their darkness

And when love comes kneeling in desperation
Seeking for an invitation in your life
Please ask her…
Please ask her…
Ask her, where did she bury Romeo’s body
Ask her if Juliet had fun following in his footsteps
Ask her if ‘Crazy in Love’ was playing in the playground when Othello choked the life out of his beloved
Please ask her whether Gatsby’s fated fatal bullet wound burnt out of Daisy’s fondness

See, Love has never been kind to foolish souls, soldiers
For too many times we have died on her battlefield
Words of your friends act as feathers of Osiris
Reviving orphaned feelings only for them to be slaughtered
Again.
There is no joy in this venture
So, stop being a martyr of a lost cause
Disciple of a twisted belief

And please
For the love of God, please.
Don’t liken love with God
For love is a religion
And I ain’t a believer
So forgive me for hesitating to step into church

Sometimes, you just got to accept some facts.
Love was never meant for muggles like me
I’m too hollow to follow the broken beat of this organ
I beg of you
Plead with you
Donate the scarred remains of what used to be my heart
To a dead carcass nearby
It has more use for it than I
Purge its meanings from my existence
So, when my supposed wife comes knocking at my door

Tell her my spirit is vacant
Whenever she tries to call me her soul mate

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (0)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

You are a Sorry Exuse of a Man

Enlarge poem

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, more potent than the punches across his face.
Each punch intoxicated by the anger residing within her.
Each blow he takes out of the love he has for her.
In his endeavours to endure,
He wonders what went wrong.

He wonders what went wrong.
When were his balls ripped from his sack?
Was it the time when chivalry was branded on his brain?
“Ladies first”, his childhood chant.
“Never lay your hand on another woman”
These are the words that now shackle him from retaliating against the beatings of his wife

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word probes the question,
When did it all go wrong?
When did her I-love-Yous turn into words of despair?
When did the woman of his dreams become the witch the provokes his nightmares
When did it all go wrong?
Was his lack of occupation, the reason for his emasculation?
Guess that’s why she now wears the pants in this relationship

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, a constant reminder of his failed attempt to get help
An incense to conjure up a trance of reminiscence
To a time he wailed abuse to Constable Mazibuko.
Help was never offered.
Only an audience of constables to laugh at his reiterated shame.
Concealing a question in mind:
“How can you call yourself a man?”

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word, her attempt to drown the memories of her mother’s cry
Over on insecure husband’s beating
This assault would not end until she is barren of her dignity
Stripped of her maternal divinity
“I will never end up like my late mother”
This vow is the venom her punches are laced with
But her punches are not enough to silence the screams of her past

“You are a sorry excuse of a man”!
Each word accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans in her search for a weapon.
She returns to be welcomed by a shell of a man
With a gun at hand
His tears, the only evidence of his bled out heart
The embers of his pride sizzling his last resistance
Fuel his meek attempt to aim at her heart of stone
In that one final moment between husband and wife
“I’m Sorry” are the last two words she hears
Before Three Shots were fired

Comments

  1. My man!I saw you on SHIFT and i so loved u!u recite a every good poetry man.keep up the good work!

    Aaron Mokopa

Your email address will not be published.