Shame

Every time I hear the Zulu accent I fall in love
With a man whom I had once forsaken,
Almost forgotten,
Buried him under my fifty shades
Of efforts to be accepted.

I fall in love with a man I had once suppressed
Expressed resentment and shame towards
Because of his originality, uniqueness,
As cowards,
Had convinced me cowardice was life,
Death, life, lies, truth,
fake smiles in public, and real tears behind closed doors.

The person I had once forsaken, almost forgotten,
Forged death of, in a very dark night with no stars in the sky
Forging the “apparent” enlightenment for the “apparent” new me,
The new free, in shackles and chains
In a very dark night with no stars in the sky,
So dark, that I was so blind, that I couldn’t see again,
That the “apparent” new me was the reason I cry.

Buried in shame, suffocated by my efforts for acceptance,
Estranged, with whom I strive for acceptance of.
Every time I hear the Zulu accent
It reminds me of a man I once was,
were, now in despair, bruised and abused
Dysfunctional, in the dark night,
Shattered, my reflection on my broken mirror is pure darkness,
I cry, tears wet my black eye, under my black eyes
My black skin, black hair, black Pride,
Zulu pride, gone forever
With the man I had once despised
But now more than eager,
Desperate to get back.

Dear Zulu, I am ashamed
I was once ashamed of you.

Does Being A Pervert Make Me Such A Bad Person?

SEX, SEX, and more SEX= My average thoughts on an average day.
I’m not really certain if I should really write this one, but since I’ve went as far as putting my laptop on my lap I might as well. Welcome to forth base.

A woman breastfed next to me the other day, I couldn’t help but stare at her “titties”, so much that she had to stop and I felt so horrible as the baby started crying, the little man must have been not full. This other time I worked as a security guard, and this man and his wife had just purchased underwear for the Mrs., and as they walked out my alarm beeped and I had to search for tags still stuck in their packaged, and as I opened it my eyes glowed like a boy with a new toy, and the husband whispered in my ear; “Merry Christmas son”.

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Does it all make me a bad person? Yes I sniff panties, masturbate, and randomly stare at strange women and fantasize about having sex with them.
My granny would be so ashamed of me, she raised me by the ways of Christianity and I know that fantasizing about adultery is a sin as actually committing it, but the last time I went to church I got an erection in the Lord’s house as I sat behind a lady with a booty so big that I could see the panties line underneath her long skirt, but then again I always have been so “vigilant”, hallelujah.

That was back in 2005 or 6, I’m a grown man now but I still have hormones of a 16 year old boy, and they embarrass me every day.
I often feel like Don Jon, my relationships often include me, girlfriend, dirty Facebook and twitter pages, pornhub and Vaseline, so my righted hand still aches as it did back in high school.

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Does this entire make me a bad person, or just a shallow one?

I still read, write, treat other people well, pray to God (although I no longer go to church), and pay my taxes, but, I’d still sleep with the 1st lady that might walk through that door.

Does that make me such a bad person?

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Kendrick Lamar and Tupac Shakur

I remember you was conflicted
Misusing your influence
Sometimes I did the same
Abusing my power, full of resentment
Resentment that turned into a deep depression
Found myself screaming in the hotel room
I didn’t wanna self destruct
The evils of Lucy was all around me
So I went running for answers
Until I came home
But that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt
Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned
Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was
But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one
A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination
Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned
The word was respect
Just because you wore a different gang colour than mines
Doesn’t mean I can’t respect you as a black man
Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets
If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us
But I don’t know, I’m no mortal man, maybe I’m just another nigga.

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