Thokoza dlozi.

Black divinity is a thing.


Songs are memory boxes.

The Queen’s scam

The English language has made it easy for people to imitate intelligence.
That’s all the intelligence ever is – a soulless imitation.

Actions speak

At least behave like you want the things that you are asking the universe for.

The balloon

It wasn’t just a balloon. And I didn’t have a disprin that I could take for my pain when he popped it. All I could do was experience this striking lightening move inside of me.

He had succeeded in making me fold myself into absence; I grabbed my earphones and desperately smashed through the walls of music trying to find solace and pieces of my stolen peace.

It wasn’t just a balloon.
Why are people so mean?
Why do they get to be this horrible?
I didn’t have a disprin or anything to fix myself, so I had to sit there and feel him win. My body was forced to communicate satan’s glory with me.

It wasn’t just a balloon.
I found myself carrying a weight of disappointment in the world’s enablers, myself included as this.
The ones that throw wood at the fires that come from pained things like him.
They validate these terrorists and make their ugly stand as something cool and acceptable.
Why does satan get to live so comfortably?

It wasn’t just a balloon.
It’s never just about the balloon.
I watched myself struggle to breathe because another man decided to be weak right by me.
He scattered his broken pieces in my space, and all I could do was watch, while trying to avoid being cut.

But I was cut.
Yes,I was cut.
Because people are mean.
And my feelings are explicitly honest.
And it was never just about the fucking balloon.

At least keep YOU

It’s okay and perhaps necessary to disengage with the world. But you must remain engaged with yourself.

The world is a construct.

It is you that is life.

It is you that must always be kept.

Pain and words

Pain looks sexy
when dressed in poems.




The truth has its seasons.

Forever you

There is literally nothing that can end you.

You will rise somewhere else,
in some other way or form.

The rhythm of your breath will be different,
but you will still be able to dance.

Endings don’t know a thing like you.
They could never.

You were created by too many forevers.



New. You. Always

I wish you constant new,

even if it doesn’t look “good.”

Be new.

Always be new.



Body Talk

The body is a physical expression of who we are; a creative tool that we use to present self, both consciously and unconsciously.

You could call it a canvas.

The way you move, treat, and dress it is all a silent story about you. But we taint this genius tool when we attach our egos to it; causing us to view it in the most basic, and often toxic, of ways.

We shouldn’t have to stretch too far to collect the beautiful stories about these bodies; their ability and will to carry us is enough. What could be more beautiful than something that carries all of the wonder that is you at any given moment? Something that you break and heal inside of constantly.

These bodies can actually stand us. They can stand who we are. And when we cheat or neglect who we are, the body reacts to show that to us. Because these bodies are honest.

Now these bodies will perish, but for now, while we are here, they are a language for all the things that we have packed into “I am…”



I suppose you break to realise just how much you can’t break.
You kind of just always grow back in different parts of life’s soil.

That’s all.

Feel Carefully

Good intentions can have harmful outcomes.
Apply your heart.



Self-care woos

My self-care is easy to carry out in the mornings.

It’s a little harder on the other side of the ams
when then the world and all of its toxic traps are awake and set up
ready to test how badly I want to stay alive.



Just chill, ok?

One of the most valuable lessons I have learnt in my adulthood is that nothing will happen to you if you leave the house without making your bed.



Always almost broken

We are beautifully fragile,
always somewhere between falling apart and keeping it together.

There’s something beautiful about being close to breaking,
and still only just bending.



Truth is a good story

Good storytelling- whether it is through writing,photography,film or drawing-is less about the skill for that medium than it is about one’s courage to tell their truth.



How will we heal ke?

How will we heal when the world has a one size fits all hierarchy for dis-ease?

How will we heal when our dis-eases are at the bottom of the hierarchy, or not featured at all?

How will we heal when our dis-eases are deemed to be too little, unimportant?

With all this erasure, how will we heal?




You probably know what you think you know.



I remember me

I am realising more and more that I am no different from the things and the people I admire.
I am drawn to them because they are in fact some of me.
I realise this now because I am finally remembering how to be that some.




Your truth…

Share your truths.

You can save lives with all of your you.


Dying. It’s what we do

Our bodies have carried us through all of our deaths and rebirths.
They are our graveyards before they are finally housed in graveyards.
A heaven before their dust finally returns to heaven – whatever your kind of heaven may be.

We spend our whole lives dying,
losing parts of ourselves every single day. and minute. and second.
For better and for worse.

We have been dying for so long.





Umdali loves me
Amadlozi wami love me too

All is fair in love and love.

An ode to your love history

wombs you passed through
hands that worked for you
hearts that prayed for you
souls that hoped for something like you.

the entire history of love that made you.

‘No’ is a full story

I’m learning the unapologetic ‘no’
I’m learning to drop it on hard ground
bringing no cushions for its fall
so that it smashes when it lands
and all of its pieces are heard.

I’m learning the unapologetic ‘no’
the one that is only followed by a period
I’m learning not to clothe it with reason
or adjust its voice
so it stands on its own
with freedom. in nudity
unburdened. unashamed

I have lived the violence of ‘yes’
now it’s time for peace
now its time for care
so I’m learning the unapologetic ‘no’