Most Days Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Most days
We spend a hell of a time trying to retrieve memory of what went down in our past life.
So we warp too much of our present life and intricate it into the archives of past memory.

There is the reason as to why all those intricate archives cannot be easily accessible - mentally:
Conditions of near-death catastrophe have to be negotiated with proper precaution and immense care -
As many as didn't oblige with to the rules, were as many as they were slammed into loony asylums.

Those are all the people that we should care about, but boy have we failed because of entertainment.
We were thoroughly entertained out of onus.

Now, all these have become past memories that charge my computational prowess with oblivious energies that occur to nullify validation of reality,
my eyes blur up with a rapid brim of despairing bitter tears -
my ears whine so loudly that I disorient into discontention.

For this, I try and I try to break away... every now and then - ironically -
to, infact, get myself open on things that didn't happen in the past.
To my rattling surprise, the things that didn't happen are the ones that matter most;
they are the same things that could make life sweet, beautiful and filled with deep and vivid color;
it is when everyone feels good about themselves and mature into their true and basic nature.
It's rarely feasible for such people to yearn for malice to transpire into existing society,
Unless, of course, they have been cornered into a defensive necessity like did Brother Saddam Hussein,
that was when his name was marred by the Anglo Society of the late 80's.
We lost a scientific genius that was exceptionally stronger than the Chinese -
Saddam Hussein and his people had committed no felonious deed -
they were slammed for being alive when all of us were dead and ambulant.
The Anglo Society had learned on how to entertain and get us open on the things that didn't happen in the past.
Sometimes those sensetionalized stories can be beautiful to hear at our leisure -
yet you've got to trade carefully,
lest one becomes incumbent of a similar fate as befell Brother Saddam Hussein...
who was smeared with global terrorism until he got hanged at the hag - overseas,
all because he was far more intelligent than the people who matter in their hierarchy.
He died because he could calculate what wasn't calculated in the past.

Open your eyes and you shall see!

Tman Kiry of Barmby

The Barmbyan Bhoza