Blessing - the creative services

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A quick reminder of what Blessing-the creative is all about.

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My introduction.

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One thing I have come to understand thus far is that, people are not the same. I am Blessing Mhlanga and yes, l am an ordinary young man from next door but l am uniquely different from any other male figure. As such, allow me to express my true identity that is beyond your assumptions and l shall permit you to do the same as well, thereby promoting a society of solid undiluted personality. We are not the same inside, we are not going to the same destination and we can not be the same at the same time  at the same level. Look at the forest, are all trees the same? No!. Are all fingers the same? No! Therefore, life is a story of choices, the choices l make today are based on the future that l want to enjoy and these choices may seem abnormal if not insane to you yet little do you know that l have discovered a blissful revelation concerning my tomorrow. It is this tomorrow that l am sacrificing for today. People who focus on other people's businesses have not discovered their pote...
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Opinion piece: Ancestral worship is a fallacy

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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...
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A mafia tells his tales

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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 ...
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