A kiss from a rose on the grave

Grasp me

You have yet to grasp but even the cusp of what it is that i am;
gather your memories of me in your head and listen.
What have i done?
what have i done for you?
what have i done for others?
have i done more then that without your knowladge?...
what have i done for me?
think...
next element.
what am i capable of?
who am i...realy?
behind the smile,the eyes and the words.
what is in my heart?
my name is lungele chuma thando mvulana.
assuming one is ment for greatness...events indicate ones approach..listen..think...watch...be ready...i am here

.

Running

He has been running his hole life now. With knifes on his back, spit on his face, thorns in his feet, bullets mixed with shards of glass in his heart, a load on his sholders and open woonds all over, periodicly sprinkled with salt, he still runs. His between running to something and running from something. He hopes that if fate says to keep on going forever, that God might shed mercy and let him not run alone. None the less his will screams to run and so he keeps running. Allowing his heart to point the way... The mirror tells no lies.

.

Heart brake contradiction

Her still waters run deep…. I’m still digging.

The path to love is hard… I’m still drilling.

Death is coming… I haven’t paid my debt yet.

I lost my heart yesterday… just lost my last bet.

My gravity is gone… I’m still falling.

My love lost its voice…. but its still calling.

Lost in the desert… sands of time.

The devil stole my heart… love is crime.

Silent memories… defining sounds.

My water just broke… birth of my ground.

Shot at myself with a gun, hoped the bullet wouldn’t hit me… this is true love.

Broken hearted dreams… pain fits like a glove.

The phone rings, “hello love… wishful thinking.

Ocean of draught…. Dry sinking.

Heavenly days… stolen memories.

Listen to my heart… broken melodies.

A kiss from a rose on the grave

A kiss of perfection and sharp thorns around he’s neck is what he felt.

Passionate fires of emotion but under the tremendous heat, the good would melt.

A stare brings power and pleasure but only to cover a sea of pain

This long awaited sight is but a mirage in the desert and no hope of rain.

A touch, to alleviate the pain and make way, for cold torture.

A soft sweat voice to serenade the soul, on its way for the slaughter.

At it’s sent he’s mind and body surrender all shields and swords

And a skipped heart beat is justified by a row of broken cords.



True love is his strength and weakness But when loves snows.

Suddenly the truth is set alight and now he’s spirit knows.

Because now his eyes became larger and the false light that she shines can be seen

And her foot steps speak ...