Blessing - the creative

A tragic end of a holy night. The bed shimmered in red roses, the bedroom overflowed with a romantic scent and slow, juicy and caressing music illuminated the house in the background. John’s wife, Natalia, whispered to herself with a smile, “looks like It’s going to be a holy night indeed, a night of juicy pleasure.” She was standing at the door, her eyes completely defeated with a blush and her mind hearing seductive songs that stimulated her feelings to the highway of kiss and blend. Out of nowhere, John slowly walked behind her, with only a red bath towel concealing his private parliament: he firmly grasped his soothing hands onto her cleavage and kissed her craving neck all the way down her illuminated butt. She knew what was about to happen: a holy night had begun and its pleasure had already kidnapped her soul and mind. Like a magnet, her heart begged his hands to stay glued to her body, she prayed he wouldn’t dare stop kissing her - she wanted more, she couldn’t re

A zeal for hope Let me be so that l can cuddle a bea, I want to smile but the unknown zips my lips, I reach out to the leaves for refreshment, But all l get is a cold slap, a fire of wither, I want to fly, soar beyond my world and rest. Let me gaze the dollars of maize, Which trades my eyes for trends, Yet inspite of a lonely feel of a rocky skin, I shall make my cry aloud and ascend above, I can ignore but l choose to ignite. To date, my pride is my tribe, One that feeds my void with the divine, To erase the lost tales of my loss, Who can dare to see my nude pains, I have much but l choose to cast them to Mr prayer. Let me kiss the delight of the moment, Treat my wounds, mend my broken woods, Strip off the garments of yester wail, Put on the new suit, a dazzle of my potential, Then l will arise, face the universe and cruise over. By Blessing Mhlanga.

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Sweet-land Bakery: Cakes for sweet occasion By Blessing Mhlanga We are not a bakery. We are a team of baking-passionates who find pleasure in creating sweet memories, delectable occasions and mouth-watering moods and finger-licking taste. We don’t just bake ordinary cakes, we are in love with the journey of making a caramel puddings, a peppermint crisp tarts, chocolate brownies, Pican nut delights and sizzling smoothies for any special outing and for the lovers of pleasure. We are the authors of delectable delight: our cakes have proven this for the past five years and all our clients have been breath-taken by our impressive bakes. If you are looking for a sweet ending, a crunchy taste, Sweet-land Bakery is the place to be. Are you walking down the isle this weekend? Are you hosting a get together party? Are you looking to sweeten your friend with a sweet birthday present? For any occasion and project, it is our delight to be at your service. We will prepa

Parting ways with the thorny feathers Do not conceal the thorny feathers hidden within your thick skin. Unleash them, divorce them and taste the delectable of your purity.  

A pose of unique colours in every creation Don't deny the unique roots of your origin. Be proud of the silky texture of your identity. Be yourself. Be you.

Brutal stab wounds steal Mondeor High Pupil’s life By Blessing Mhlanga As sunset neared, the school bell shook the gates of Mondoer High and pupils danced their way out, with an intention to get a calm rest and refreshment at home. One pupil, roamed swiftly around the school gate and in a blink of an eye found his defenceless being surrounded by two masked savages, who while strongly clinching the razor-sharp knives in their hold, posed eyes of fury. The shiver of terror pushed the pupil to pee himself and tears of obvious fate flooded his face; a force of fear crucified his feet to the ground and his hands made symbols of a sinner begging for pardon. In less than ten seconds, the pupil was swimming in a pool of his own blood and his lifeless body carelessly floated on the roadside of the school gate where the eyes of the public were not visible. Obviously, the masked men had vanished randomly like a rush of the wind and no eye bared witness to this barbaric ta

An invitation to kiss and dine Do not shame your train of pain, It's too early to sell your weapons to your demons, It's too late to crawl back to yester flames, Your worth is within your heartbeat: the temple of your own paradise. Ignore their gloat - they'll soon polish your path to glory. Don't bury their negative songs in your heart, Refrain from biting back the monster, focus on igniting your lost fires, Commit to your passionate agenda, Blow the kisses, drink the elegant but don't lose yourself  Massage your wounds with sweet salt, Paraphrase your divine seed: the seed of future elevation  Befreind angelic humans with perfect imperfections and sold out hearts for decency. Lighten your stolen moods, awaken the crippled delight, travel to the unknown fantasy but never forget to repair your faults You can murder the beard of fear, You can ascend beyond mother sky, The trees will cherish your trials, The birds will cheer

How Sugar lost her Sugar Along the rivers of Nile, Sugar Bok fell in love with the darling of fresh breeze and sweet aroma of the vibrant foliages. Sugar was searching for  marriage with a gentleman: a human interaction that lacks the breath of humanity. She was ready, the waters whispered calm hymns of seduction inviting her to dine with them. Her courage smiled, massarged her veins and winged her to dive in. The trees appluaded her effort but they didn't make visible the awards or sorrows that hid beneath the river. She swum against the current, the marriage was sweet and she could hear her foes gnashing their teeth against her. As her name, all she could feel was sugar sweetening her path to the unknown: a mirage of fulfillment. She had never felt so radiant, the embrace of sparkling waters, soothing her nightmares away and giving rise to a new identity: an image of solidarity. Somehow, the waters turned sour and the smiling trees vanished, leaving sugar dancing on th

Andrew Maxwell                       FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: 05/05/2019 Lifestyle Holdings, Pty Ltd 34 Honey Avenue, Sunninghill Johannesburg 011 368 876 www.lifestyleholdings.co.za info@lifestyleholdingsproperty.com Lifestyle Holdings welcomes new CEO on board Due to Joss Mate’s sudden resignation last month, Lifestyle Holding has welcomed Martha Cigar as the Company’s new Chief Executive Officer as of yesterday. Equipped with prominent expertise in property development, Cigar is expected to turn things around in the business, focusing mainly on increasing the company revenues, minimizing expenses and expanding the company operations to the rest of Africa. Lifestyle Holdings spokesperson, Andrew Maxwell is confident that Cigar is the right woman for the job. He said, “We strongly believe that she is the perfect candidate for this job because of her undisputed experience in the property industry and her noticeable achievements during h

Let me note to the mothers Let me note to the mothers of angels, Who sing healing to their sick children. Who polish their skin with butter, Even though she cannot afford some. Let me note to the mother of creation: the partner of the Almighty. Let me note to the mothers of milk, Who kept breastfeeding in the midst of deserts. Who kept the son when the sun has burnt her with divorce, Who dug wells of sugar for her children, For the sake of sweet scent of undiluted love. Let me note to the mothers of rainbow, Who gave birth to the masters of innovation, Who raised giants from the world of dusty ants, Who kissed daughters with the magic of beauty, In order to rise the fallen wishes of the family. Let me note to the mothers of flavour, Who divorced abuse and fled the monster, Who paved holy paths for their children, Who planted seeds of character for toodlert, So that the saints and sinners of mother land can soar above like eagles. By Blessing Mhlanga.

Regardless of whom you voted for, Remember: All we want is a responsible government that listens to the people and fulfills its promises. Salute to all the voters.

A voter's prayer I know that they are imperfect junkies, I understand that they are clumsy pigs, Their filthy trash is before me, But l have to elect my voice aloud, And vote for the nerds of politics. Mr politician, hear my wail, I don't expect you to be an angel, But at least befriend angels of nature, Who will help you eradicate our gasp, And redig the buried wells of Abraham. Take heed to my prayer, Don't make my vote your slave, Don't abuse my democratic blessing in choosing you as my head. Respect the wishes of my privilege and fulfill your promises. I'm not begging you to be my superman, I'm expecting you to be sober Forget your egotistic agendas, Be an excellent bird in that office, And massage the feeble knees of our nation. Sanctify the burden of the young generation, Which has sold them to the pit of zombies Wipe away the rivers of inflation, Reduce the trend of jobless hashtags And cut the roots of soaring taxes. Uplift

Hail to the achievers Allow me to pour my hails, Permit me to pass my salute buttons, Receive all crowns of congrats, Take your well-deserving applaud of cheers, You, the makers of history, the masters of revolution. Take your stand upon the alter, Embed yourself with fine linen garment, Smile all the way to the stage of honour, You, my dear mothers and fathers of the soil, Who endured curse for the smiles of your offspring. Drum roll, drum roll, Roll the red carpet for them, Shine their shoes as they walk, Them, who shunned pleasure for the prize of academic excellence, Them, who divorced laziness for wealth creation of our kingdom Whistles, dances of glad to him and her, Who turned blind to their bitter history, In order to make a dazzling today, Hugs and kisses to the fellow alien, Who left his perishing yard, To create a fruitful vineyard for his starving generation. Hail to the hell quenchers, Who discover oasis in deserts, Salute to rainmakers, Who

Be careful Be careful of the vulture within you, Who seeks pleasure at the expense of terror, Who delights in swimming in the river of sin, Who longs to make love against the Bible of purity, Be careful of the culture of self-deceit. Be careful of the birds of thirst, Whose aim is to widen your deserts, Whose purpose is to bury your oasis, And wither the sexy leaves of your garden. Be careful of the unknown man within you. Be careful of the snares of seduction, Who pray for nothing but your fall, Who live for nothing but to drown your vigour, They kiss your butt with thorny lips, In order to silence your voice of honour. Be careful of the lost keys to fly, That left your palms unwillingly, Don't despise those who snatched them away, Pose love eyes but refrain your embrace from them, Lest they steal the new keys to your crown. Be careful of the gone lovers, Who poisoned your religion of integrity, Who baptized your name with tales of fantasy, Which only

Story: Not your type By: Blessing Mhlanga Date: 27/04/2019 Plot:   Joe is a nerd, very intelligent but not physically attractive. He ’s a college student who is in love with Ruth, his classmate who happens to be the most beautiful, attractive and wanted girl on campus. He’s been praying for courage to approach her but his shyness defeats him. Finally, in their second year of study, he gains the courage to tell her; he meets her on the corridor next to the campus tuckshop. Joe puts on his best smile and politely greets her. She proudly responds. Joe: Ruth, there ’s something you have to know. It’s a message from my heart. Ruth: Message from your heart? Sounds deep, I’m listening. Clears his throat three times. Takes a deep breath. Looks deep into her eyes. Joe: Ruth, I’m in love with you. I would love to be more than a friend to you, if you feel the same. She laughs out loud. Blushes for a moment. He is embarrassed. Ruth: Okay, wow!

Vote for the truth It is that time again, Time to bruise or polish the political gods, Time to elect new heads of political office, Time to furnish our nation with new suns through the key of elections. Do us a holy favour, Vote the asses of sin out of the yard, Pave a pure highway for a fresh voice, The voice that will consume corruption roots, Roll a carpet of welcome for a new butt, One that won't uplift selfish governance. Follow the Bible of your heart, Fill the ballot with an honest X-Man, Who won't massage us with empty vows, But breathe a new order of turning our tears into cheers, our prisons into peasants and our wishes into peaches. Don't ignore the old man, Who rescued our purity from apartheid, Remember the wise Eve, Who after being deceived by the guptas, crippled our economic heart-beat. Don't be blind to the wounds service delivery, which seem to be taking forever to heal. Vote for the truth of a fertile soil, That will birth a