This poem has been nominated for the Word N Sound Awards 2014 Perfect poem award. To vote for it got to: http://wordnsound.wordpress.com/2014/11/07/wns-awards-we-are-all-angelsweve-just-let-our-wings-drag-in-the-mud-modise-sekgothe/
My beloved brothers and sisters,
Today I embark on a journey
Into the unknown dark never to return.
Say your goodbyes to my shadow
And let my incense continue to burn.
The burden of my death eats away
At the shaking shoulders of my dear friends.
But I have to leave, because life is a prison
And the soul is like a bird
While the body is a cage
And I have hungered for my wings
While locked up in this cave.
I have been starved of my freedom
And silenced by the grave.
My back was covered with feathers
But they were ripped off at birth
Because the sky abandoned me
And I was taken by the earth.
But all my feathers found their way to me
And I’ve been lifted from this world.
And now my friends will cry for me
And speak to their hearts content.
My mother is an irony
For her womb is left a dent.
She’s the seraph who gave birth to me.
Her wings became my wishes,
Fulfilled in distant skies.
I’ll finally get to see them
In all the splendour of her eyes
For she knows where I am headed,
And for that reason doesn’t cry.
It is a terra firma of queer angels
Where she found her strangest child,
Amidst the vagrants of our cosmos
Flying across the streams
That make up Gods veins.
Where honey is taught to bees
Before their first buzz
And all of a sudden…there I was
At the touch of a nephillim unknown,
She awoke to conceive of me
And gave birth to a dream.
Unlike any other child I didn’t enter the world in screams
But beams of light and gleams of nights unseen.
The stars have followed me since,
Tracking my every move.
The scars on my back reflect when I sing
They serve as my only proof
That wings are not foreign things
To a child grounded in self.
That kings are born crying, just like everyone else.
Except my kind
The ones that only see love in a world
That disregards them as blind.
As a cherub I heard the musings of other broken spirits
Who found the world confusing
And the ground a bit insipid.
So as a legion of cherubim’s
We would climb the highest trees
In hopes to coax the sky into
Allowing us to pay the clouds a visit
Wishing to reconcile but our souls were juvenile
And the planet was our exile
Where we were to learn the laws of gravity
Before we truly learn how to fly
For the greatest among us never needed wings,
Nor the sky, nor the wind, nor the clouds,
They just needed to die before they died
To kill the ego and find weightlessness in their minds.
Because wings can never carry a rock
Not even a diamond of splendid shine.
So let go of your heaviness
And rise to a light sublime
I am here for my fellow angels
Who’s lives are a tale divine
We will gain the skies forgiveness
And fly amongst our kind.
But we’ll remain a slight bit different
Cause we’ll have felt the pains of mankind
And we’ll look down with compassion
And maybe come back from time to time
To bring the others a few lessons
On how to live a life refined
To the purest form of passion
And to rise above the demands
Of all the worlds obsessions
How to find peace and align with
The words of the greatest wordsmiths
To understand the divine truth
In Gods greatest confession
That human’s are better than angels
For they were designed to withstand agony
And still come out enlightened.
And that what’s amazing about us
That’s what makes us the envy of every nephillim
For our resilience is unbounded
And our strength is beyond all question.
Humans are angels,
Angels are actually just, humans before they are born
Stripped off our wings and our souls remain torn
But feather by feather we will find,
And further and further we will fly.
The memory of the melody of our melancholy
Can be heard in the songs that we paint
And the paintings that we sing
In the sculptures that we dance
And the dances that we sculpt
In the poems that we dream
And the dreams we write.
In the sketches that we beat
And the drums that we draw.
In the citadels we blew
And the trumpets we built.
In the cities that we drank
And the villages we spilt.
In the pyramids we grew
And the sky-scrapers we planted
In all the mantras that we cast
And the spells that we chanted
In the vehicles that we flew
And the air-planes in our traffic
In the killing of the Jews
And the rising of a prophet.
In the companies we sued
And the consequence of profit.
In everything that we do
Is a concentrated effort.
To find the divine truth
That all of us are angels!
From murderer, to mystic
To prostitute, to priest,
To revolutionary, to dictator,
To philanthropist, to thief
To you the listener, and to I who speaks.
Vote for Modise Sekgothe here:
Modise Sekgothe performing at Word N Sound’s Open Mic Poetry Slam at the Market Theatre Laboratory in Newtown – June 2014. This poem won him the ‘King of the Mic’ tile.
An experimental film exploring how environment alters the way we perceive dialogue.
Starring: Obakeng Makhutle and Modise Sekgothe
Directed by Vee Makausu
Written by Modise Sekgothe
Conceptualised by Vee Makausu and Bonga Ndaba
Shot by Vincent Mafaesa
Sound design by TheLongTwitch
Music by IDWIL
Title sequence by Thapelo “Ghost 89” Keetile