What Pastors are afraid to say about religion!

There has always been confusion and debate surrounding the difference between religion and spirituality. For the most part those who know what religion is may tell you that  it is confining and takes away many freedoms whilst  spirituality has a more liberating effect.

Ellen Alexa Mubbwanda an exceptional writer has decided to say her view on the ssue in the poem  The Religious Mind. Rread it below.

Poetry: The Religious Mind

The religious brain never gave me wings,
It stole my gifts and all creativity brings,
Spirituality is where it’s at,
The best possible way to nudge God as you can get,
To have a mind opened,
And a heart set,
On the things that truly bring peace,
And not a TV set,
I have a liking for all that glitters,
Those glistening earrings and convertible give me jitters.

The religious brain never gave me wings,
Taught me to trust in objects and not the maker of them,
Grab that cross, that oil, hold them high to assure God,
That you’re with Him and it’s okay to save you,
But wait isn’t it He who’s supposed to be with you?

That religious brain never gave me wings,
Must be because I was born with a vagina,
At 12 I thought it was cos ‘ I’m a minor,
But as I trudge along I’m pushed behind so many cocks,
Waiting ever so patiently for my ship to dock.

That religious brain never gave me wings,
Compelled me to love deeply and get along with all that think likewise,
And loathe the freethinkers and any who interrupt I should despise,
Oh, how my blood rushes at sight of their rude remarks!
I’ll pray to religion mentally that their asses he smites!

That religious brain never gave me wings,
I loosen my grip now because my father is dead,
He lost his grip and landed in a grave,
Way too early, religion, don’t you see?
We gave you everything and became whom you commanded we should be,
Oh, that’s right! You didn’t promise wings,
Just death, taxes and failed politics.

Ownership :Ellen Alexa Mubwanda

Visit her blog to read more of her writing on https://ellenwordpressdotcom.wordpress.com/

Poetry : Beautiful Handsome by Miss Mona and Mcpotar

Beautiful Monalisa,

Black, elegant,

An ultimate thought igniting figure,

Undeniably lovable,

Monalisa.

 

The first verse had the acronym beautiful,

From the second line,

If I were reborn,

Would choose you for the second time,

And make you blush with awesome rhymes.

 

Handsome Michael,

Hopeful, Ambitious, No Nonsense unless it’s nonsensical,

Driven, Spiritual, Open, Mindful and Enigmatic,

Michael.

 

The first verse had the acronym Handsome,

When we in life eternal,

I wish my heart and home to be with you so Our words and love Can echo ..

Timeless.

3 Awesome Poems By Simbarashe Ngundu

The Attraction by Simbarashe Ngundu
Her face is of one born on a zephyr,
But Zephuros never had a hand in the making.
Twas Yahweh Himself rather.
Her beauty, what can raze?
How quixotic I felt, looking at that onyx of a face.
In me was the eerie nymph of love.
My eyes popped and couldn`t bob,
At the tender and touching sight.
Told I my love,
But nihilists thought it zany.
My nous I lost,
Like she had put a hex on me.
Stood I on a brae,
Running scenes in my inner-screen.
O! If I was her beau.
But a miracle never came out of the blue,
Unless asks one in a duomo.
Can`t Tell by Simbarashe Ngundu
Overtones or Undertones?
Which is which?, O you can`t tell.
Flip-flopping with my creaking bones,
They think it sounds my death knell.
The wits of theirs is that of The Beast with six horns.
Pretend to love me, now its I who
Can`t tell.
I can`t tell, Is this the kiss of life or death?
I`m always fresh with new tears.
Pain or joy? O you have taken my breath.
I`m stuck to you, to pull me off I would need more than
the rain`s hearse.
Will they talk about us in the aftermath?
Or they will fall while going up our “Love Story” stairs.
Now they can`t tell if it`s pain on our visages,
While there is such stupendous joy in our very own hearts.
So seminal is our “book” in Love Colleges,
While theirs is like the boring design of a Toyota Platz.
They don`t know why we look beautiful on that tree like oranges.
Now they want to eat us up, so they can break their fast.
What Is Left Of A Couple by Simbarashe Ngundu
Now it`s only history,
But their minds are filled with nostalgia.
Night after night passed,
Incense rising in clouds .
His love silenced her,
The affair circulated in whispers.
They were like a goose laying golden eggs,
But all that, seems no more now.
Their love became a victim of fatigue,
And the affair circulated loudly.
No one can tell what is left of them.
What is left of them now,
When silence has replaced their happiness?
What is left of a couple,
When they no longer dine together?
What remains of a couple,
When they no longer chit-chat?
When love making deserts their bed?
When sheets remain unrumpled?
Surely what is left of them?
Did he push the “Cheat Start” button?
Or the “Break Promise” button?
Or maybe he pressed love`s brake pedal.
Now she is stranded in her nightmares.
Painful questions spinning in her head,
Deep suffering in her flesh.
O! poor thing.
She is trying to turn off that inner TV,
For the channels only broadcast her memories.
About this couple, nothing is left.
They had been linked by their childhood.
Most importantly by their common origins:
The same ancestors,
The same skies,
Scavenged in poverty,
Same customs and soil.
It seemed improbable to disclaim this essence,
But now their natures got distorted.
Can you tell me what is left
Of this couple.

Female Insecurity Discussed in Nobuhle’s “Let Me See Your Phone”

Let Me See Your Phone

by Nobuhle Natasha Nyoni

Hey!!

Yes you the man I am madly in love with, let me see your phone

I am tired of trying to trace your finger prints with no idea which direction I should go

I am sick of checking your birth certificate and trying to figure out the code

I am absolutely tired of asking for it whilst you asleep hoping that somehow you will blurt it out

What is it that you are hiding up in there?

And tell me why it switches from a code, to a pattern, to a face, to a fingerprint and back to 1?

iphone_fingerprint_660

Are there many Zaqcuisha’s that I should not know about

Do you have a baby mama from the past that you keeping under the bridge

Are you secretly gay or as you men say it ‘just exploring each other?’

What is it damnit?

Are you addicted to porn, is that the real secret?

Are possibly planning to leave me without a trace?

Is your family telling you I’m that bitch you shouldn’t be with?

Answer me damnit!!

girl-pulling-hair-out-clip-art-470426

Because right about now I’m starting to feel my head shrink

I’m starting to feel like this ship is about to sink

Slowly I want to search for the right link

I can’t do this thing of yellow and pink

Dammit let me see your phone!!

Does it make you happy to watch me beg you?

Do you feel more manly when I kneel for you?

Am I just a puppet, a funny show for you?

What is it?

Well I will have you know that today is my last

I don’t want your password or pattern

I will not be sneaking in to try your fingerprints

No I will not crack my skull to figure this shit out anymore

You know why?

trust

Because a password ain’t what I need to unlock my trust

All along I let the demons in me question my trust

I allowed the demons in my friends to penetrate me and suck me out of my trust

I allowed cosmopolitans quiz games to rate our trust

I let them in our ball of trust

I allowed them to allow me to question my trust

But now, now I know your PASSWORD has absolutely nothing on my TRUST for YOU.

My Mothers Day 2015 Special Videos and Audios

I will not even say much…

This one is for the mothers,

The ones selling tomatoes in street corners of ghettos,

Airtime or potatotes,

To put shoes on their childrens toes,

Decent meals and trendy clothes,

At least – what they can afford.

 

The mothers that take their sons to living waters,

Lecture daughters, keep them focused,

World is bogus,

So we should sit with them and listen.

 

Especially for the ones where a male figure’s missing,

Office work to end up in the kitchen,

Dressing chicken, men are chicken

Sometimes to raise their own families… I know

 

That’s why I respect the mothers that father the kids,

When deadbeat dads ain’t  loving their seed,

The Bible reads honour your father and mother,

Some mothers are both,

Double the honour.

 

This one is for my mother,

She reminds me of me – her facial features,

Her love for me is amazing I’m gazing

At a picture of you,

You made me  handsome. (laughs)

 

So there could be a future mother of my children,

God prepare her for this legacy I’m building,

Her brick is the corner stone,

For a man shouldn’t be alone,

And the mother is the back bone,

Of a beautiful home.

Get The Audios Too Below

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The Thing About Me and Church – (Short Poem)

Here is a poem about me Church, Religion and Spirituality.

 

A voice in me told me to go to church,

Sunday service instead of watching a football match,

So I wore a red shirt and a tie to match,

Old women wore suits with matching hats.

 

I paid attention as soon as the sermon began,

Took notes with a pen as I was ready to learn,

They told me Jesus Christ was a gift to man,

And I should give a fraction of the money I earn.

 

I understood all those parts, supported by scripture,

The Bible as a book painted beautiful pictures,

In reality the words were too hard to digest,

But I can’t deny the feeling, I was feeling more blessed.

 

I went out to the world to practice the preaching,

Praying and fasting, bowing and reaching,

Reading, enriching my mind with the word,

Leading and speaking my mind to the world.

 

Then a day came when my spirit got tired,

I responded more to my fleshes desires,

My whole faith was lost and burning in fire,

I tried much to open the book of Isaiah.

 

Plus I wasn’t moved by hypocritical Christianity,

They spoke humility but lived for vanity,

Mis-use of the Bible – promoting inequality,

Some said knowledge brought me to insanity.

 

When I told them about the false doctrines,

And how the illuminati planted toxins,

Coffins into the church – the walking dead,

You would think right now I’m becoming mad.

 

Gumbura molested women in the name of God,

Many Pastors are getting in court for fraud,

Spiritual I am but religion is flawed,

I can’t say it all here but my claims are broad.

 

This made me for sometime question the Earth,

I was presented to Christianity since my birth,

I’ve never read the Q’uaran or some other beliefs,

So my mind sometimes has been full of what ifs.

 

So I do wake up sometimes to go to church,

Pen and paper for the sermon ‘cause am on a search,

I have seen miracles right before my eyes,

So I know Jesus Christ cannot be a lie.

 

What I doubt ares the people that claim to be sent,

When they are just trying to make another cent,

They are good at talking and help you to repent,

But when their scandals are out your faith is burnt.

 

Do not follow a man that’s the lesson learnt,

A day with God will always be a day well spent,

Sometimes I sit and wonder where the gospel went,

But God in his wisdom knows his real intent.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Related Searches: Poetry, Church, Poetry on Religion, Poetry about Church, Poems about faith, spirituality and religion, Zimbabwean Poet, Dambudzo Marechera Poetry, Aura The Poet, Batsirai Chigama,

Poetry Review – Blessing by Sebelelo -(Realization Anthology @2tukani)

Sebolelo is an exquisite, conscious spoken word artist, student at the Central University of Technology (Bloemfontein, South Africa) , and a worshiper. She has also become a very popular face at “Bloem Poetry Sessions”, plus , she is a regular voice on MotheoFM . Her passion for poetry is very overwhelming. She is a guest poet in Thuthukani Ndlovu’s  Realization Anthology and today we will look at her poem, Blessing. (You can download the Anthology via this link, in the next tab)

Sebolelo is poet who uses deep thoughts rather than rhyming sentences. Her poetry is made up of profound statements and thoughts that make you see the other side of things you may take for granted. She certainly gives me that,”Aha!!!” effect. I agree with most of this poem. It is the truth.

Blessing is about a child named Blessing, even though the child was born of what is “sin” in the moral code of the parents themselves. The poem brings about interesting observations on moral code in society. It challenges the Christianity of “church goers”, in other words those who go to Church but do not live according to the values expected of Christians. This poem speaks about those who observe one commandment religiously but break another.

In this case, the parents of blessing chose not to abort the child because they were observing ,”Thou Shall not murder.” Yet Blessing was a result of not practicing a previous observation which was, “Thou shall not commit adultery”. The artiste argues that had they observed the commandment on adultery, there would be no need to worry about the one on murder.

Though the message seems centred on promiscuity, unwanted pregnancy and hypocrisy I believe her argument holds true for many things in life. If one can prevent the cause, there is no need to deal with effects. Sebolelo is a genius poetess, amazing thinker and this poem definitely can cause ones perspective to shift.

The poem challenges beliefs versus deeds and also expresses how parents may not want children to commit the same mistakes they made. Parents would like children to be better versions of them. I enjoyed this poem.

Please keep following this series on Thuthukani’s Realization Anthology. To read the poem I am talking about  (You can download the Anthology via this link, in the next tab)

Poetry Review – The Deeper Message in Thuthukani’s – He and She (@2tukani)

Poet, rapper and blogger, Thuthukani Ndlovu’s poem “He and She” in the Realization Anthology is a didactic poem that manages to address how human nature is vulnerable to manipulation through material things and ego. (You can download the Anthology via this link, in the next tab)

The poem is quite short and is 2 verses long. Thuthukani makes use of a direct end rhyme pattern occasionally. He uses some figurative speech to bring it to life though it remains quite understandable to the average homo-sapien-sapien.  His poems first verse agrees with the common metaphor that pride or egos can be fed. This metaphor assumes that pride or ego are some form of animal. This can be confirmed by the other metaphor regarding, ego which says one can “stroke” the ego. There is also one that says ,”bruise the ego”. You can feed, stroke and bruise and animal. We can therefore establish that the first stanza is talking ofan ego being fed as an animal, causing the subject to be unable to swallow her pride.

The poet says,

“He fed her so much praise,

Until she could not swallow her pride,”

There is also a common saying that if one would feed this ego animal, then their soul is starved.

“Feed the ego, starve the soul.”

I am not sure the author had come across this one but by the end of the first stanza of his poem, the soul is dead. Probably he means to say it starved to death while the ego was fed. He speaks of the digestion of dignity and the loss of emotion. In this case I’d like to believe Thuthukani, meant to say conscience. I believe, emotion never dies but conscience does.

Fear, anger, resentment and so forth also happen to be emotions. We have seen that in history even those thought to be emotionless could in fact fall into anger or depression (which are emotions). However they had no conscience. However, the message of what Thuthukani is saying is not lost within “better” words we believe should have been used. I believe the target audience will understand what he means or perhaps he indeed meant emotions?

The second verse (which is the last), identifies with the metaphor that identifies money as a liquid. Perhaps it’s a liquid like water because it tends to sustain life. That’s why we say, “cash flow” or “my pockets are dry”, we talk about the “liquidity” crunch, “swimming in money”and so forth. We talk about  the “freezing of bank accounts.” This is because money is like water to us. Let’s get into the use of this metaphor in Thuthukani’s poem.

“He continued to drown her in finances,

Yet he knew that she could not swim.”

In this verse, HE switches from just feeding her with compliments and praises. He feeds the material needs, now that perhaps he has killed the conscience or starved her soul. The way the verse begins, could prove that these finances were being fed from the start, “He continued to…”Whichever angle we take it from, money is being fed continuously to overwhelm this girl. The person giving the money actually knows that her mind cannot handle it. She cannot “swim” in it so she drowns in it, because money is a liquid. This means that a part of her continues to die, because drowning leads to death.

In later parts of this stanza, her eyes become blurry and it is worsened by shades (dark spectacles she is given). This to me means that she is now incapable of seeing truth or light. Eventually she comes to the realization when she breaks out that she was being led. At that point she was now infested with HIV.

I believe this poem is didactic and it shows us that humans have a hunger, which is why they need their ego fed. We have a thirst that’s why we want to “drink” money. However not all that our minds, souls and spirits can feed on is good food. We have to come to a realization of what’s healthy. For the most part you will realize that it wasn’t the “compliments and praises” that were bad, neither was it the money. It was the excess of these things.

No matter what feeds you, be it poetry, music, compliments or money. Have it in the right proportions and do not let it control you. Human beings have the gift of dominion.

(You can download the Anthology via this link, in the next tab)
 

 

Martyrs For Money – Poetry by Arcane (@Im_So_Arcane)

The love of money’s the root of all evil, and the price of its pursuit are death and pain,
For the paper, people are turning into
martyrs….frankly, it ain’t nothing but a shame,
I’ve seen dudes putting price tags on their priceless souls,
And becoming little puppets that the devil controls,
I’ve witnessed young girls allowing their bodily temples to become marketplaces for sin,
Allowing Franklin Benjamins to give Lucifers a way in,
The dead presidents resurrected, slowly
killing off our innocence and
depleting our sanity,
Million dollar dreams got us feeling like
we can defy the laws of moral gravity,
So off we go wreckin’ and lootin’, shooting’ and prostitutin’,
We ought to take a step back and think about what we’re doin’,
As we exchange a lifetime of wealth for an eternity of punishment,
All because we want to be the place
‘where the money went’
Life’s about much more than the money in your hand,
For man makes the money, money never makes the man. -Arcane

Child Soldier- Poem by Arcane (@Im_So_Arcane)

Arcane has written yet another revolutionary poetry piece about a relevant issue that affect most African countries.  If ypou watched movies such as Blood Diamonds you may be able to paint a more vivid picture of what he is expressing, here. Please share this poem via any social network and stumble it. child soldier verseHard times turned me into a child soldier, I held the weight of an entire nation on my shoulders, But I was fighting the very same people that liberated me, Cause they went and stole the hope that stayed in me, They poisoned my nation with corruption & backstabbing, Ignorance & unnecessary land-grabbing, They made the notion of ‘Chimurenga’ (revolutionary struggle) sound phony, Cause they thought the House (of stone) belonged to them & them only.

I can’t claim my future cause I was ruined by the past, So I turned to God & asked how long this was going to last, And I heard Him saying I should act fast, Before the reins of my nation slip right outta my grasp,

So I strapped up my boots & took arms, For it was now about more than bad economies & stolen farms, I was now fighting a new breed of colonialism, In which our very own leaders took us & put us in a mental prison,

I rallied up troops & took to the streets, Got involved in vicious clashes with the state police, I’d joined forces with The Movement, but even they couldn’t change along, So its too soon to sing the victory song, So with our words, we fight, we shall not cease, Because until we have justice, there will be no peace. -Arcane.

panashe madziva arcane poet

Panashe Madziva is a talented spoken word poet based in Harare, Zimbabwe. This poest was originally posted on his PoetryZoo Profile … https://poetryzoo.com/author/arcane/