To the not-so-It girls

Cheers to the girls who say Thank you Sir and Yes Ma'am
The girls who struggle to tell a flirt from a front
 
To the 1s with belly laughs follwed by piggish grunts
The 1s who seldom dream of white frocks and big rocks
 
To the girls who try and fail to replace the "F" word with "Phudge"
Cheers to the girls who were never picked first when playing "house"
 
Here's to the girls who can't keep their brazilians alive for long
And the 1 who manicure to hide brittle, bitten, insecure nails
 
Cheers to the girls who gate crash cool kid parties dressed for warmth and dressed for comfort. To the 1s who arrive uninvited
 
To the girls who dream of getting lost on winding dirt roads; who dare to wish for hippie suitors with Christ-like qualities
 
Cheers to the 1s who on reaching home, lock the door with 1 hand  and snap their bras off with the other
To the freaks in the streets and the geeks between sheets
 
Cheers to the 1s who sit on kitchen counters with their legs crossed...
eating as they speak,
speaking as they eat.
 
Snaps to the girls who will never make the cover of Glamour
To the unbandaged sore thumbs, the anomalies,
the hurricane Lucy's
the romantic asexuals
 
Cheers to you if your mother  maybe loves you but definitely worries about you
Kudos to you if you seem to get things wrong by design and right by luck
 
Cheers to you if the It girls and cool kids don't like you.
They have evolved and still they don't see you...
 
They have gone from liking yellow bones, to Lupitas,
from embracing Twiggys to loving Nikkis
And as you wait your turn, they have hashtagged and Woman Crushed, but it was never you....
 
They.
Don't.
See.
You.
Their fads and trends keep missing you...
 
Cheers to you anyway
 
You are a mustard seed.
We command mountains to move on your count and unknown to you and them, we shift the world at your yawning
 
You'll never hear the sounds as champagne glasses clink in awe of you.
Yours are silent cheers and muffled toasts...
But that is okay...you know better than to expect raucus claps, floods of embrace.
You know better than to wait for a crowd or a fanbase
 
You know that the world does not easily welcome your customs
 
You also now that the world does not celebrate beginners
 
You know that the crowd always tips the scales against the drifters
 
But more importantly, you know that the pioneer is not the leader or the lag, but the first follower.
 
So cheers to you as you wear the glove that fits

One day

That I will one day taste my insecurities out through my sinews and know only the evidence of his full reciprocity...
 
That we will someday breathe safe in trust and drenched in lust for every tomorrow that will be us and ours...
 
That I will one day live the pains, the greats, the weights, the depths and the blisses of his heart as my own...
 
That we will one day cry the same tune as we sing a sober melody of truth
 
That one day time will melt into nothing and space will shrivel up in waste as his chest feeds life from my veins...
 
That my seams will weave into his fingers and my fears drown alongside his footsteps as he walks us into the infinite...
 
That all the days, dawns and mornings will one day resemble that single place in heaven
 
That he will one day carry me in his arms the way I bear him in my heart of hearts...
 
That I will someday live dreams, dream realities and be fantasies as he touches me into a blissful paradigm.
 
That I will 1 day
Love,
Lust,
Want
and love once again like this
 
when 1 day will be forever.

..........................................................................
Note: I have not written in a while; except into my journal. This is feeling new again; this writing about my sadness. I have not felt like this in forever and while I detest the feeling, I love the moment it affords me because it sobers me into the realness that is my human heart. I feel indebted here: to forever love the person who made me feel this way. It is pure and beautiful madness.

East Africa

This is my goodbye note to a space I have always held in high esteem but that has since shattered my perception of it. I have never been to EA, except in my dreams and safe to say, that was the last time I  would go there.. 

I really pray that this is one of those overly exaggerated 1st first world accounts of 4th world dark and animal Africa similar to the "South Africans live with lions in their backyards" or the "Hillbrow is Killbrow" fables. Because if not, it is sunset to yours, and to my love for yours my darling.

From here onwards, you can keep your sexy UG landscapes, regal TZ accents and your glorious sunshines. Hell, you can even keep your beautiful and breath taking Kenyan brothers. None of it will do for me anymore.

Once "pseudo-spokesperson" to your grandness, I have officially and unashamedly ousted you from your once held "first place" to a sad "not even under consideration".
You would have to physically move mountains while I stand and watch to even hint at a return to my once held high regard of you.

I have gone from highly reverring, to fearing you.

The irony of your actions here leave me with a serious bout of mind funk. I mean, if I cure your AIDS and help you catch fish as Jesus did the disciples, should you not build me a Queendom instead of kill me? That is what everyone else does for something they hold in such high esteem. Why can't you?

I suppose I should be grateful that you are exposing me to the gruesome truths of my existence. I never understood fully that a human could be "hunted" or "poached". While I know human cruelty and understand my carnality, you have darkened the pencil lines and reduced me to a fragment of even my worst self.
I mean I have dealt with the dramas of being "different", but shit, now I feel like a rhino, and at least they have the attention of the nature conservation fund.

It has been a while since life on this "light" side has felt this "not-fun". I guess Saartjie Baartman was holding this here baton for a while and it has now come to rest with some of us and it's aluta continua from here. Sad to know that my only upper hand here is the geographical accident of my South African birth and that others don't have this sort of luck. I didn't imagine anyone could suffer such from your beautiful hands my sweet. You have always seemed to me so much better...

Thank you for having sold me the dream thus far, it met me with hope and a great smile when I thought and dreamt of it. And while your taking it from me is bitter to swallow, it is also welcome I guess. A curse to a dream huh...
Perhaps one day I will meet you in your 'sober' state and we can play again from here, but for now it is goodbye and to sunset....

Know that while I forgive you and your ignorance here, I will not forget, nor will I forgive your desperation at mine or "my kind's" expense.

Once yours,
My pale and human ghost

The albino tribe butchered to feed a gruesome trade in 'magical' body parts

For decades, the albinos of Africa have suffered appalling treatment at the hands of their own...

DAILYMAIL.CO.UK

Ode to you Token Child

Play...

When you get picked for the first team, show up
Show up on time for the game and own it.

Own that term they so loudly whisper about you,
Oh you transformation child.

Embrace that gold shine of being a rare find,
Oh you token child.

Don't come late,
you the only ‘kind’ at the dinner party.

Oh, and please answer boldly,
you that speaks so well.

Do not get mad
Remember,
It
Is
Just
A
Game...

But if you must, get mad off sight.
In front of the puppet master,
Play your part child.

Play fair and play so well that they forget what they thought about 'your type'
Let them only see how good you are.

And if they please,
Let them keep believing 'your kind' is not that great and that you are the exception

You see, soon enough, they will have brought in enough 'tokens' to render that arcade game not play-worthy without this, 'your kind'

You have been picked child...
Go play.

Sometimes I just want to BE...

Sometimes I just want to BE....

So...
Allow me to wallow in the bliss of my ignorance
In this state of perfection where nothing matters if I don't mind.
You see; logic's prison and the hole of rationale have proven hell 4 my creative juices...

I want for the art of my soul, my daily bread to no longer be reason.
Let me be bliss....

Let me be in bliss...
Where white is feeling
Where nothing is everything
And where rain does not chase me away.  

Allow me to exist not for the universal but for my own...
Truth.

#####A request to the ghost hounding my (f)ears on my not so best days####