A palace of copywriting

-

Looking forward to an innovative relationship with you and your brand.

Blessing -the creative is your palace of professional and quality copywriting. Just a phone call away.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Opinion piece: Ancestral worship is a fallacy

-
Image
Ancestral Worship is a shameful fallacy By Blessing Mhlanga We cannot speak to the dead and there’s no such thing as the living-dead. Rituals involving animal slaughter, sprinkling of blood, drinking of concoction, talking to a dead person on their grave and consulting a sangoma for intervention is a spiritual deception that has enslaved the african people. For me personally, I am extremely ashamed and disgusted by my fellow black people who believe that a dead person has an influence on their failures or prosperity in their lives. Some cultures even believe that the dead are a mediator between God and the living; it’s a shame because they have forgotten that God is the creator of all men and he doesn’t need a human being whom he created to be a mediator to those who are living. According to Truth Magazine article, ‘if you displease the ancestors, it may be that they will kill someone else.’ This doesn’t make sense, why would my ancestors, who were somehow...
Read more

A toxic modernisation

-
A toxic modernization If you don’t have that thing, I’m afraid vosho is not your fan. If you can’t lit your dreams, Then not even your blesser can make you feel acer. I have come to know that slay queens are pay keys of myth, who are fancy yet too poor to afford a lace.  I prefer a mellow-bone than a yellow-born who is an angel of booze, a god of twerk and a slave of g-string. It’s better to fill up the dome than to feel like a dom kop, whose calibre emerge from ama-wololo.  I’m telling you, not even gobis’qolo, can...
Read more

The cigar man's fate

-
The man and his cigar. I was wondering why he smoked his future away by a thankless smoke of cigar. He didn't want to make use of the grace of humanity because he was fed up of being human. I graced him with my presence, only to find him cuddling his doll : a pillow of his tears. There he lied next to it, too trembling to look into my eyes, sobbing enough to soak his bed wet and his death was closer than he wished. I reached my hand to him, who after refusing, posed eyes of horror that begged for another cigar. A man, broken and overburdened with void of not possessing the essence of life. Hence, a cigar had become the face of his heart beat, unknowingly of the unholy end of his tale. With an attitude of panic, l humbly knelt before him, kindly requested his permission to rescue him out of his pit, even though I didn't know how to rescue him. His bleeding soul fenced me against him, he clung his fingers against the bed sheet and spitted a leave me alone saliva on m...
Read more