The Kiss

                                         The Kiss                          

As lips collide, saliva scatters,

 I feel the strong tense between vitality and the pulling of tongue exercising pull muscles with strings stolen from the forbidden puppet.

I refuse to believe in love portions and pink arrows,

But in the mixture of both saliva creating this unique capsule we intake,

And if blood is the lethal taste drawing us closer to heaven then I presume we both love infected.

If this heavenly kiss is the root of all dirt I think of you,

I then politely urge God to keep these lips try,

Lock away these silly thoughts and stop the leak between my thighs.

I bid to thank the day I met you,

For the man upstairs chose you among the rest,

And till this day,

I wish to see curses turn into rainbows,

Haters turn back to apes,

For there is no magic that could stop the everlasting love I have for you, because our love foundation was not based on black wizards and gods but in shootings stars.

By: Ts Mashile

God Is a Poet

                                        God Is a Poet                    

God is a poet,

Fore he poetically scripted down the Ten Commandments as part of the basic instructions before leaving earth,

And yet written scriptures deep in my heart,

So these lips can speak life to sons and daughters of this soil;

He is my God, my creator,

For he has breathed life to every living soul with peace,

And yet was able to program every mindset to live according to his poetry;

I know this teary pen between my reddish thumb and fingers was not his creation,

But he created mankind, and yet commanded that for whatsoever his art touches or speaks upon be turned into his living testimony.

My God, my creator

For he is the same God whose son died and resurrected,

Walked on water and prevailed,

And yet I still see his children sitting in church confusing God’s miracles with black magic and shooting stars;

As I sat in that church,

And the church sang, “Sweet Jesus”

I hummed it quietly inside,

Because between these lines I sang poetry;

My God, our creator

He has set free words covered in his son’s blood,

So I the third son can elevate words which had long sunk deep in your souls,

Up to your mind and lips, so his art can be seen and heard by the lost sons and daughters of this fertile soil.

By: Ts Mashile

Apology to the Page

Apology to the Page

Spaces between these lines are so wide to fit this curse inside,

Eyes within are so clear like my mistress,

 I could even see transparency through its landscape and lies.                                           

Its fragile look on ink seems so broken and tired,

Yet carry a thousand words with pride and hidden scars.

Its torment on ice seems prior to its age,

Yet it will smile and admire ink drowning to its place.

Lies and false prophesies would be scripted down with aim to tear each artificial organ apart,

While across this page, I sit there and watch poets in disguise recite melodies to its downfall;

But on its end, it flaps corners with invisible puppet strings pulled by the kind wind.

Truth is told, secrets windowed,

Through its misery of unfair justice from a rejected ink,

It would still lay flat to carry all your heartbreaks and burdens “YOU” the keeper infiltrate on it.

Now on this cold sunny morning,

I write this poetic apology to you my final page,

Entailed are promises I wish to keep and fair justice I seek to adjust.

I politely promise to be with you in sick and health,

Be there for you in rich inspiring words and poor,

For you are so young and impaired but yet experienced so much life lessons and heartbreaks than I your humble master has encountered. My apologies

By: Ts Mashile                         

Our Version of Events

Our Version of Events

As juvenile as I am today, I wish to be with you,

I know my love is novice, but I wish to grow every bit of it with you,

I might not promise you the world but I want you to be the spark that ignites this love I have for you,

With this beautiful flower I picked from my mother’s garden, I wish to name you Mbali,

Because I found no comparison to match how beautiful you are.

One day when we both matured,

Walking hand-in-hand down that isle,

I wish to see you smile,

Not because of the ring around your finger, but the promises I wish to keep.

I want us to suppress the moment of the kiss;

Wrap an invisible ring around your heart so you know it’s taken too

Shed a tear in front of our friends and family so they know you are my first, last, beginning and end.

When we old and the only noise we hear is our grandchildren’s,

I want us to stare in each other’s eyes with pride and laughter,

For this journey was never easy.

I want you to hold me tight and tell me I’ve been the man you’ve always dreamed of,

As we both cry during our old age laughter,

I want you to catch every tear I drop and remind me more of the teenage memories we shared.

As we wait for the promise of “Dear Painless Death”,

I want you to give me one last teenage kiss,

Because this is where our love ends.

By: Ts Mashile