The Scary Dream. Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Do you want me to tell you a blatant lie or reveal the burning truth?
You might want to grab a paper and pen -
and perhaps dot something of important and powerful thought:
In this bit,
I will ring this truth until you know it by heart
like a smashing-terrible song of the hourly-rung bell,
because a boy has to say what a boy has to say for the sake of his momentary release,
especially if confronted with a searing level of polarized guilt.

I see that you are being cool
and I do admire that you are a professional.
I was being challenged by a devine test deeper than my lowest level of spirit;
I am a deep worshiper of God the Christ,
and so, as much, I needed to pray really deep.
I was praying to Yaweh to speak in his voice
and promise of the grate abundance long inscribed,
therefore I had to follow the ways of the Bible alone,
for my jealous God lays retribution towards the haughty.

I needed to be at my worst tone of the worst tones,
for me to be humble enough to mourn at request,
thus I burned myself in the sacramental fire -
a sacramental of purification and a symbol of long suffering.
Now God is going to listen to my prayer because
I surrendered all my canal joys for his infinite love.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Holy Bible has not failed to tell me so.

I am in a Zone of great confusion
and I remain with too many religious mountains to make the steep climb,
yet I am marching to one they call Mount Golgotha,
where I believe I'll be crucified at a beautiful red sunset to the west -
where I will be ripped open and left alone to die at the cross.
I will sleep alone through the night with no more being the fear of death -
I believe I will come back to life with glory multiplied.
Only then I will be human.
Only then I will be free -
free from harboring the feelings of God,
who says we should burn of the incense when coming at his holy presence,
because he is there when we pray
and I believe it because the Bible tells the full truth and never a lie -
the truth and only the whole truth.

Now my heart is sore beyond the pain of open sores because
I've committed the worst of the most abominable sin:
But I am sexually inhibited because of the tough life in which I've slogged -
since childhood I've been repeatedly been given thorough counsel
in that a man has to always tie his gear of sexual stamina.
So among the traditional helpers I've come to know,
I summoned a religious herbalist -
who is a true prophet of God and a prayer warrior of our time,
therefore we are barred to doubt the credibility of the man of God.
He prescribed a certain portion and, as the pains of my body began to yield,
I was tempted to quickly follow up on the trend.

One portion led to the development of the other until
I ordered the sex tea because women approve of the beneficial prospects of such a use.
I even went out and acquired virility pills which I chewed like gum.
Now I am still haunted by the recurring scenes of that past obscenity;
feelings of a sexually immoral nature are still flickering flames above my puny spirit,
I was fighting to see myself thrive on every pound of hasting fornication in my youth.
I've since read the Codice of Moses
and I picked the crude on how to worship God in truth and in spirit,
therefore I need to fornicate until the absurdity of the congress has been flattened in my mind.

Now that I'm a little older,
I have to stop swaying along the claque
of lies long proven to emanate from perverted sources of the mind.
If you would notice my face with precise detail,
you will be able to see the lies lodged in the dying soul through my eyes -
It is, on most days, a burden too heavy to bare by myself,
I should find my way because I am still not happy,
despite the shear attempts to find sexual release.
It is still impractical, to all of us, to not maneuver brutality in coitus plays.
We are at an age where boys and girls endorse the idea of very rough intercourse.

I sometimes become a little happy when a beautiful girl comes to me with open arms,
presses me tight in her bosom, and utters sweet murmurs with her arms wrapped around my neck
while her eyes are locked into mine and her soft lips glow -
to hang easy relaxes my nerves but concentration gets me antagonistic.
I am not at that stage of processing yet.
I should love to be alone until some dangerous concepts have vanished I'm my head.
This is a deep and dire level of thought patterns -
it needs a concise and stable standard of processing to-do-over the overt anger.

Thus when a guy poses on me the problem of a phantom guilt,
it heats up the simmering anger that veers me off a rational course;
It engenders a physical pain that is impossible to endure,
which is why it is warranted for me to instantly restrict general reactive behavior
and not handle professional people with the amount of street-style brutality:

In the Ghetto, we fight with deadly instruments over little misunderstanding.
This is the behavior I have to fight tooth and nail to work out of my system -
or suppress since I now have the technology on how the mind works.

But there still hangs about the nagging issue of metaphysics,
I owe it to the culture to remain true to the tenets by the Holy Ghost.
The Holy Bible mentions that we must believe
in the dreams
for they are a means at which Jehova speaks to the living person upon this land.

I had a bad dream on just one of the past nights,
it had my stomach turning and sweat rolling down my forehead.
I am sure that a good prophet of God
might be able to interpret its hidden meaning clearly,
this is where I figure all the mystic sexual urge to have stemmed:
At a shouting distance towards the west -
there was a yellow lion with black manes
and a couple of lionesses standing about as they seemed very bored;
there also was a pack of yellow dogs to the extreme right,
in the similar distant stretch as the lions bored,
barking lowly at me from there - yonda;
only two meters in front of me,
a cheater lay indolently upon a rock that rose below the knees -
proving to be too full of dog-food laid on the ground in a silver bowl;
all this happened inside an electric fence that towered above the buildings therein,
as the women at a childbearing age were being solicited by the men
who jeered in my direction as though I was one of the animals roped;
a big snake that had eyes lining on its sides
appeared behind me at a great speed...
so it came to mind that red or black snakes' venom
can not be neutralized by the herbs gathered in the city -
and this one clearly had only the red and the black details.
The snake quickly charged at me from all directions
until all the other animals grew interest in the onslaught -
and at this time they appeared multiplied in many folds,
yet I was somewhere in the mid-air,
trying with every ounce of energy but still failing to fly above the roof levels
to completely avoid the freaking plight.
While the whole world seemed to advance further up into adulthood,
I was left there for me to die alone
in a situation where I was mocked by every beautiful woman.

The situation was so twisted that it got me feeling as if my entire soul was lifted,
and I still had to fight the heart throbbing panic
and the shame of being an object of public mockery.
I needed the correct atonement for my prayer to reach up to God.
I don't want to be left outside alone.