I am complex like my heart

I beat life’s obstacles with a hubristic rhythm,

whilst pumping the bloodline of my people’s revolution through my arteries,

Vessels that deliver the oxygen- rich blood of African Kings and Queens.

Sacred gore that feeds my intellect –  I carry the world with me.


I am complex like my Arcadian skin,

dark melanin that absorbs the warmth of the ever generous sun.

Skin painted with the fine brush of my people’s struggle; perfectly bronzed by the slavery of my ancestors.

Believe me, there lies no shame in my melancholic scars.

Oh I am a symbol of natural greatness.


I am complex like my hands

Wrinkled by laborious labour of the ages,

I hold failure in the one hand and self doubt in the other and dogmatically smash them together,as though I am giving a round of applause to my future success.

I crush all ostensible tribulations to the mere earthly dust I moonwalk on.


I am complex like my legs.

I run these streets with ambition greater than that of the indifferent cog in the Armani suit.

No sir, I am dedicated to my long walk to freedom

Thus, I escape the leech of conformity

Kneel to pray to my highest authority

And forever trust in my ever-changing destiny.


I am complex like my mouth,

Smooth and perfectly as soulful as saxophone.

I communicate the language of Utopia,

I spew words of unfathomable daydreams

By exhibiting the ideological aspiration of a compendious way of thinking

Through which the voice of human consciousness is heard.

Dear brother, do listen when I babble about the antipathy I have seen with you.


I am complex like a work of art,

Like splashes of galactic spectrums,

Spotlessly traveling through time continuums to emphasize how my body is the pinnacle of seduction.

Several bidders have tried to claim my hidden treasure, forgetting that I belong to no earthly constraints.

Remember – art is not for the hands but for they eyes.


Complexity is pain synchronized with child-like joy;

It is Forever jumbled with a few goodbyes

It is the irony of being trapped in a democracy

The emancipation of being your own Hermatia

The fallacy of societal stratifications

The hypocrisy in non-spiritual religious constructs

The world wide plight of trillion dollar economy

The innuendo of silence when obvious injustice occurs.


My dear, complexity is realizing the astonishing light of your own being and ignoring it.


Kabelo Phiri, pTahera🌻



Painting; I AM COMPLEX MAN- TJKruse

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