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Watering smoke is boxing shadows
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The smoke of deception
Where there's smoke, there's fire. Fighting the smoke is boxing shadows, the fire is stalking our yard and sooner, it will lit up the house.
A mafia tells his tales I’m unknown in the universe of the blues. I hustle with my claws and toil with my feet. I have married a new sun, the desert is my ex and weeping is the grave - I am the Mafia of this game, the game of striving to be the best striker on the field of life. Don’t remind me of the gone tales, I have buried them and I press toward the unknown hidden in the elegant paradise - a world of my own smile. I live not to impress but to express my inner gold which was once sold by the enemy. The kisses of my wisdom reflect the pieces of piles and tiles of my make-up, I have managed to separate the under from the asunder - this is my bible of livelihood . I have conquered the plagues of lazy plugs, who loved to pray that I become a prey but their gales have become my girls for my fortune sales. I own many suites but not suitable enough to suit every occasion; my calling is sizzling and it won’t stop dazzling. My part is to dress the start, make sure ...
How Robert Mugabe wants to be remembered I was a liberator. Maybe a tyrant too. By Blessing Mhlanga. 10 -09 - 2019. Well, where should I start? If in the beginning God created heaven and earth, then in the beginning is where I’ll start. In the beginning I, Robert Mugabe became pregnant of a vision: to liberate my fellow black Zimbabweans from the perpetual catastrophes of slavery, inequality, poverty, racial segregation and the heavy heap of unjust leadership in the hands of Ian Smith and company. It is for this vision that I created countless movements and campaigns against the atrocious regime that had enslaved my people during the 1960s and 70s. It is for this vision that I endured a decade of imprisonment for trying to overthrow this vicious government. Maybe, it is for this vision that I stayed in power for almost four decades. For clarity purposes, I didn’t hate white people but I only despised their use of power against...
The war of the human race By Blessing Mhlanga. 12/12/2019 They sought to kill the chosen but they later surrendered their blades. Who can master the songs of death? They breathe within the depths of malicious hearts. Our souls longs to kiss and dine with the divine, the only answer to the terror of human race. We race against the times of conflict residing in the spacious gardens of our wish, yet we forget that there's always a root of deceit in the baseless fantasy. The ignorance of our walks may resemble the fallen flavours of lonely hills, seeking for a precious lover that only the Almighty can give. Who can withstand the soldiers of our furious mountains? The war was aroused by those who planted seeds of offence against a prophesied destiny of elegance. They wanted to win but their weapons only preached defeat. They sought victory but their regalia spoke nothing but weakening bones. Now here we are, forcing our mouths to challenge the curse of time, without reaching ...
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