Showing posts with label tshwarelo eseng mogakane. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tshwarelo eseng mogakane. Show all posts

2/14/09

REVIEW

The Second Coming of Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane

Four years ago a letter writer in City Press chastised artist and media practitioner Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane about his much publicised simulated heresy, “The bible is not subject to private interpretation”, the obviously shook fundamentalist writer wrote. After this public rebuke Mogakane retreated from the religious discourse for some time and nothing was heard of him except bylines in national newspapers as a journalist.

This year he returns in his much-anticipated second coming as The Awesome God with a thought-provoking DVD titled Stop Messing Around, Success Is Yours. This time he is not poking fingers at the Bible or preaching sacrilege but out to share what he calls God’s Detailed Plan for your Life. He is unashamedly poking fingers at some pastors' greedy practices though.

The 45-minutes long DVD is in essence motivational talk using biblical figures and references to indicate every individual’s space in the universal matrix. You were put here for a reason remember? Mogakane argues that many people are poor today because they have succumbed to what is called 'the law of social science' which he disputes is absolute but subject to challenge. He argues that there's nothing cast in stone until you see a stone where there's none.

Wearing green work overalls, a yellow helmet and shades he preaches his stinging sermon from the comfort of his Divine Construction Ministries which this published poet, enterpreneur and recording artist claims will manifest into a broad church that does not accept tithing but instead encourages its flock to go out and be rich instead for its own good and not the pastor's.

Money is the underlying theme of this DVD. “They are drinking their Three Ships which are drowning their families” he warns about the nouvre riches indecent behaviour. It is the one hypocritical statement in the DVD since Tshwarelo does enjoy drinking his Ships, either one, two or Seven almost everyday. He challenges parishioners to move from giving to pastors to taking for themselves, not from the coffers though as disgraced ANC spindoctor of bad repute Carl Niehaus got the hard end of the stick for having sticky fingers.

“We must first take before we give, you can’t go to the toilet to fill your stomach but you must fill your stomach first to go to the toilet”, he says as he warns against tithing before the parishioners are wealthy. This statement rings truer to those accessing director's and staff loans from conglomerate churches like Rhema.

Arguing that God is giving people a businessplan which he calls OSI-EFE, or ‘don’t eff (fuck) around’ he says the CC-Syndrome has had many people claiming to be on the way to making money by registering CCs without building relationships like the biblical leper at the well. The poor leper couldn't be rolled into the pond because there was no one from his kin to help him, so before you tender for that SAA catering contract worth R365 million you must have Khaya Ngcula to roll you into the pond for your leprosy (poverty) to be healed. Without a Nqcula you'll always wonder why some people's condition received attention while you are forever at Tender Briefings.

Mogakane’s sermons are inarguably what the country needs at this time of financial global recession, debt-ridden families, Trevor Manuel's impending departure, politicians who believe they automatically make good businesspeople by arguing when asked what they'll do after politics that they'll go into business as if being a businessman was a natural progression while it takes a certain savviness that either you have or you don't, and trying academic challenges.

Slain Black Consciousness protégé Steven Bantu Biko once wrote in his essay We Blacks, “the anachronism of a well-meaning God who allows people to suffer continually under an obviously immoral system is not lost to young blacks who continue to drop out of Church by their hundreds”.

Biko would have loved what Mogakane did in this well-edited and packaged DVD which comes with intoxicating music. It’s motivation taken to another level.

It retails at R40 with previews available at
www.makgema.blogspot.com. It’s another production of the Dwarsloop based Mega-Mak Entertainment.

5/15/08

SONG

The Missing Verse
This verse goes straight into the remix for Journey With Me immediately me and the maker of the original record get ten minutes to bust a rhyme. That's my word!










journey with me as i walk through your oak door/ loaded pistol on my left a blazing spliff on my right/ screaming f*ck the system while i'm the BEE type/ my flack paid for through laundered capital made through contraband/ about to start a mini war with a clan seated for supper/ sooner than later there'll be blood oozing corpses dropping/ sirens blurring one zero triple one dialling/ police taking their time ambulance stalling/ journey with me into a rhyme classified post-orgasmic/ that comes to you after the oomph for my spunk has been dished/ bile-less vomit that i puke when i've been called for a tour/ from my retirement activated by musos dying wanting/ when zombo umanji and mawillies perish broke/ journey to paupers funerals for those who lived like millionaires/ hail mary hail mary don't mean shit no more/ when my journey to your heart activates your wrath/ fuck what you heard when all i'm saying gets picked by deafened ears


* MAKE IT OR BREAK IT. VOTE FOR HOT OR COLD

3/2/07

OPINION

"WHAT'S BEEF?"
"My life I lived searching for love but got blasted like a hood
What's love got to do with a slug in my chest
How many layers of betrayal did I have to peel through
'fore I unearthed the real meaning of life & reincarnation
my wasted life help gossip mongers exercise they jaw muscles
got told today you wrote me a poem hope it helps you knock some cash
learn a lesson from my demise & capitalise, never cry for me
for my wasted life is coming soon in a poetry journal
" -a wasted life (JOURNEY WITH ME)

(Sin 12/Take 7)
In this devil-directed script of life, friends are like best-supporting characters. They are the guy who’s always next to the starring. Difference is that in movies it is usually the friend of the starring that dies, but this is a script, not a movie; maybe live theatre.
To be blunt, the role played by these supporting characters is that of post-mortem antagonists. Meaning in life you only realize your friend was never really your friend only when you are chilling six feet beneath the hypocrisy. That’s where you get to appreciate the fact that life is one big act, and you have been played. In the words of slain rapper cum video-cameo actor, Notorious BIG, "niggaz is actors/ they deserve Oscars." I totally agree coz these egos play both hero and villain. Like in Dan Brown’s novels, the killer is always the ego willing to help.
Take for instance, the other day in May some years ago. My Mmata-my-friend told me that he would be out of town for a week on some job-hunting expedition and I felt very happy. His uncle had fixed him an appointment with some managers out of town. He stood a chance to be employed in the space of a week. I wasn’t supposed to be happy – we were both unemployed – but damn I was. You know that we are never really happy when our friends are about to succeed. But on that day in May I happened to be extremely happy. I didn’t feel that evil little flush of jealousy that we hate to feel when our friends find a way to defeat frustration (poverty and loneliness).
You definitely know what I’m taking about, right? Remember that ever-suppressed evil side of yourself that can’t help but smile or laugh at your friend’s blunders? Ja, like when your friend has suffered major rejection or they are about to have an unplanned baby which they in fact can’t afford. Seriously, when friends triumph we feel bitter, when they crumble we feel better. What are our shoulders for, anyway?
However, that day in May I took my friend’s good news with a genuine smile, and a flush of joyous orgasm. Good friend? Never that? You can understand we were both unemployed, and he was a few days from getting a job. So why the hell wasn’t I acting like a real friend, jealous? Simply because in my evil mind I was busy changing pens re-writing the real movie scene that should never be written by friends – Sin 12. I smiled because in my evil mind I was spinning the cam-coder doing close-up shots. Of what? It was my naked self dancing with my friend’s naked girlfriend, under the umbra of altra-violet light. I was mentally zooming on her breasts as my hands tore her kanga off in a squirt of passion while she tore my undies off while my dear naïve friend was out of town.
As soon as my friend headed home to prepare his upcoming trip, which was to be the next day, I shook my head in disbelief. How could I have such evil intentions against my homey? What kind of ego am I? I asked. An ego, I answered. I thought Oh Lucifer! I’m such a snake. And indeed I am.
Here’s what you need to know, if more than anything. I am a snake. A deadly venomous Human Cobra. I bite and betray. I do not hesitate to stick my fatal fangs into my friends’ heels. Watch out, I am a danger to friends, a snake that looks nothing like it. Maybe the difference is because I brush my fangs; swallow mint to conceal the snake breath, put on cologne to ward off traces of snake odour. Did I mention that my fangs are rimmed with gold courtesy of the dentist? I can bite you once and put you in the grave. I am a pretender who can’t help but hide his venom from those deluded by our idea of friendship.
I am a snake that posthumously acclaimed actor/singer (who fucked Biggie’s wife) Tupac Amaru Shakur warned you about when he crooned, "Keep your enemies close/ nigger watch your homeys." Remember the twisted story of Judas?
I want you to know that I just don’t envy you for your girlfriend – I envy you for everything you have and every thing you have the potential to have. All I really want is to be above you and I want you to be below me. I want all the good things in life to reach me before you, so you can kiss my ass, not the other way round.
Have you never ever felt me hissing or rattling? Remember that I am constantly criticizing you, ignoring your opinion while finding ways to make it mine. Can’t you notice I always talk about myself when we hang out? Why do you think I do that? Isn’t it that I put me first before you, even at your girlfriend’s vagina? That’s what society has done to us, mpitsi. You know that even our parents have provoked the snake within at times. "Look at your friend, he’s better than you." Is he? Not if I bite his ass to death. I ponder to myself without telling my parents what’s on my evil mind.
This evil is everywhere you go. In every neighbourhood, you have neighbours being jealous of neighbours. You have pastors being jealous of other pastors. Even Jesus of Nazareth himself warned us to be as wise as snakes. Do you feel my wisdom? Do you realize that the greatest back-stabbers on earth (and in heaven) are friends? I’m talking close friends.
The Human Cobra is the most subtle and venomous of them all. I’m the primordial snake and you are Adam – what do you suppose I will do to Eve?
You need to understand that the ego you call your mpitsi gazi is the one acting out scenes of betrayal in his mind everyday. Of course I will deny this, and being stupid you will accept my denial and raise my babies while thinking they are yours. Blame competition. I’m a competing snake, and I can’t allow any snake to outbite me. I have to be # 1, no matter what. Even at the expense of your very life. Think me, think Othello. I don’t just possess potential to Othello you out, but I hold the very luciferian prerogative.
Don’t be like others, see the snake coming (on your girlfriend). Put an immediate end to your naïveté. If it means you have to be paranoid from today, then paranoia is the best armour against clandestine paramours. I know that snakes cheat and lie but today I’m telling you the truth. "Can the devil speak truth?" Ask Banquo. Truly, I have felt the friend-seeking poison and fang whirl inside me every time I exchanged a glance with your lover. She is a snake too. You could be a snake as well, who knows? Maybe I’m just your fellow snake. You too could be secretly biting me, but don’t underestimate my cobrahood, I can have you othelloed any second.
My point is that whenever you are far away don’t be afraid to suspect my ass on top of your girlfriend’s. That’s what I did to my best friend’s woman while he was out of town trying to get a job. And you know what? That evil ever-suppressed smile visited the corners of my mouth when Mmata-my-friend returned a week later still unemployed. I hugged him and said, "It’s gonna be alright," while deep down I felt great. I was glad we were just the same – we had no jobs, and shared the same pussy. His failure to score a job disappointed my parents who were quick to point out that my friend was better than me because he was trying.
By the time Mmata-my-friend reads this I will no longer be his friend since I never was. It was all an act. I was just testing how far I was in this competitive game called life. Don’t dare forget that children of the devil do as their father does. We can’t help it. Not even prayer can remove our jealousy, coz soon you’ll find that we are now competing about who’s praying better than the other. We are crooked and nothing can make us straight. Remember that Jehovah and Lucifer used to be homeys? That’s until Jehovah returned from the holy mount to find that two thirds of his cherubs were sucking Lucifer’s dick. Don’t be fooled, the devil walks around like a lion-snake, seeking whom to bite.
Let me put this on my forehead: CAUTION: HUMAN COBRA ON THE LOOSE. If you fail to see the snake in me, you will fail to crush my head, but yours I will. Don’t expect me to change, I’m just playing my part, like my forefathers did. Like Lucifer did. Don’t let my smile fool you. The devil comes as an angel of light. In the words written in sacred papyri: Woe unto the inhabitants of Friendship, the actor has come down upon your girlfriends, and he has but a few takes.
It’s about time that you recognize your award-winning friends. Or else, by the time you wake up to smell the semen, the credits will be going up. And director will scream, "Cut! It’s a fucking wrap!" – 4kof Satan

1/17/07

OPEN TALK

"For a couple of decades and some, African girls, with little or no assistance (and a lot of opposition), are completely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of their vaginas. Then, one day, when a man decides he wants exclusive rights to it, a bunch of uncles (who never call on sick days, birthdays, exam days and first period days) get to transact over this vagina.
Then, there is the comment about virginity testing, along the lines of ‘if they make them take HIV tests then they should also take virginity tests’ – the Oprah girls, if you’re not following. Ahh, the VGT – how overrated virginity is. The value placed on it by society is just a patriarchy tool for keeping women ‘in their place’. I have a suggestion – if men want virgins, why don’t they stop fucking the world out of them? Virginity is a male issue
".

VIRGINITY WHAT? - JUST GIVE ME A MILLION
St Lucas the Ribelatti takes up the debate started by Karabo Kgoleng this week.

Human beings always cloud issues. Maybe it is because their brains are clouded. So what does this have to do with Oprah and the sanctity of a young learner’s vagina? Good question. Answer: It has to do with the fact that we always cloud issues and raise concerns where they refuse to be raised.

Okay, the richest self-made woman in the world decides to take a spoon-full of dollars out of her pool of wealth and put it in the education of post-apartheid South African girls. (Read girls, not virgins). Okay, since she is trying to empower them to take responsibility for their lives, she decides to get these underprivileged ones to take an HIV test. For a mind that is not clouded, what’s wrong with this picture except that a standing ovation is missing for the queen? If you are living in a world built on the sands of ignorance you are bound to see HIV as a joke and you are more likely to think you can probably cleanse yourself from the virus with a bar of soap. This actually sounds more like you’ve been in the bar for some time and you need to just take a bold stand and confess, "Hi, my name is…, and I have a problem." Truly, this is no time to fuck around when it comes to the AIDS issue. Chances are that you are more likely to be fucked by this shit. Who knows, perhaps in your next careless shagging session, you might just get yourself some HIV. Yes, you are right, this is actually not funny. Not at all. It’s real, whether man-created or god-indorsed. The reality is that there’s a thing that does something to people’s bodies. This thing is more harmful than cigarette smoke. But like cigarette smoke it affects even people who have never seen the light of day or committed any wicked act. It punishes children from their mothers’ wombs for the sake of their parents’ love for infected orgasms. So I become consumed by emphatic anger when others choose to cloud the issue surrounding Oprah’s need to test her "children" for the murderous virus.

If I must be honest with you, as an underpaid young entrepreneur trading in spoken and written words, it is rather unsafe for me to have my sexual self tested for AIDS. The reason is that at this hopeful age of my life, which is nothing but a spate of fantasies to leave the ghetto for an up-market sub-urban neighbourhood, I do not want anything to do with bad news. It took a lot of courage for me to ignore our miserable ghetto reality and believe I can make it in life. With all the negativity I encounter, all the false promises and disappointments, I don’t believe I am ready to open my ears to heart-piercing news. If I am to test positive I will have to gunner up more strength to battle yet another tragic existence. That will set me back. It I said that if it can’t kill you it will make you stronger. I believe this one might kill me. So for now, ignorance is bliss and what I don’t know won’t kill me.

The reality with HIV, and the reason I give Oprah the thumbs-up for implementing tests on the kids, is that you have to be in possession of mechanisms to deal with it. With a pocket as deep as that of the talk goddess, I believe HIV can be a minor irritation. But imagine a young fatherless ghetto caffre trying his darnest to stay strong but to be met with the news that "if you are lucky you can live up to ten years!" Not when my motto is "I will not die but live." That’s what keeps me growing even when I plan to assassinate myself by age 32. So the problem with HIV in a poor person’s ignorant mind is that it won’t make him stronger. Never. But if you make around R7 million a day like Oprah does, you are sure that you can keep a positive mind and a healthy diet. If you happen to be Oprah’s daughter and she’s dishing you with an education that can send 10 students to university with, then why not? If you are positive, you don’t have to worry about money, you have to worry about how to spend it. But if you don’t have money but you have HIV, it will be difficult to handle such knowledge. My plan is to be the richest South African in ten years, but I’m not talking posthumously when the insurance pays out. So if I’m dead in ten yeas, what’s the use of trying? But if I have money, what’s the use of crying?

Ten years is a lot of time when your concern is how to spend your millions.
Ten years is a lot of time when you are getting free education and free nutrition.
Ten years is a long time, and a privilege when you are just living for the fun of it.
Ten years is a short time when you spend half your day slavering for other rich humans who are busy deciding on how to spend your sweat.

If Oprah offered me a million bucks so I can establish my ITC companies and start living my dream, I would test tomorrow. But if I still have to wonder what I will be eating tomorrow, an HIV test is an insult. We all know that Manto has not time to make house-to-house deliveries of anti-retroviral medication and some lekker kos. So why should the poor volunteer to know they are dying and that no one is going to help them? Why should the poor be told to have a positive mind when negativity is part of the national budget? So why worry when the goddess of money herself tells girls she can help to test? So why should they go for virginity tests? All virgins dream of the day they get deflowered. But none of us really dream to be HIV positive. It’s a fucking truth, all virgins shall be un-virgined. Oprah is not teaching these girls to be lesbian.

Oprah is teaching these girls not to depend on males but to love themselves enough to know that they don’t gotta have sex to have money. What’s wrong with that education? The US government pays 200 times Oprah’s wealth to teach young men how to rape and kill children in the war on terrorism. Sounds like somebody needed someone like Oprah to take them to school years ago. Maybe we’d define terrorism better and stop clouding words.

If I dilly-dallied, my point is that unlike our government Oprah was encouraging people to test for HIV knowing she’d provide help when they need it. What’s virginity testing? Only men have the right to test a virgin. That’s our life-given prerogative. What does a woman take after she has tested negative for virginity? An anti-penal drug or something – or an opportunity to be shamed? Think of it. My philosophy is that the truth lives between the legs of women, and we will always go looking for it. Virginity tests are a waste of time because one must get laid. But HIV tests are something else coz one can stay negative if taking the correct precautions.

Fuck all the kak, Oprah has money, let her give her girls the opportunity to live like princesses.
Let me publish a book and sell a million copies I will gladly test for that whack shit. Being clouded is not a favour to anyone. Stick to what is real and what you know. Otherwise, watch out for the book called How to Fool Eve into Spreading her Legs for YOU. 4kof Satan

12/25/06

POETRY

Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane is a 25 years-old poet, writer and journalist who plans to commit suicide at the age of 32. He's carrying his suicidal ambition like a trooper married to a rifle.

Advantages of hating you

Today we celebrate our magical death with a kiss
Shadows of lust manifest from the backyard of our minds
Like afore thoughts travelling at the speed of fate
I caress you perfectly; as good as a god caresses its being, perfectly
For imperfect is perfect in its imperfection
You have been great, little girl
You have been ungrateful as well
Bitch, I loved you when I shouldn’t have

My sanity multiplied by a million worries
I die a romantic death in your poisonous arms
You love me; I hear your ambiguous declaration
Civil smiles eating my jealousy away
We make love on a red bed
We shouldn’t…
But I love you too;
Can you hear my dubious confession?
As I moan emotions in your ear
You tear me down
You recreate me
You are an angry pistol in the hands of love
And I am poetry in the hands of hate

Take therefore what I give
From your palms I doubt if I’m willing to receive
With all my love,
My unconditional love that loves conditions
My impure love
With which I hate those who defile your sacred affections for me
I can't stand you
To the marrow’s heart
Your sight plagues my peace
My cursed gift you break me apart
I desire you…
With all the fears in me
And I fear loving you,
With all the faith in me
-4kof Satan


U do not know how to love me, but you try
(Dedicated to Robin & mike tyson, Khutšo & me)

1. Beyond definition
Lives your episodic love for me
Beyond the malicious trial of re-definition
Is your thallophytic love for a lonely rebel

2. In an intense reality
A laser-wired castle haunted by romantic demons
A child of your mind’s muscle,
A cherubic cocoon,
We reside, I king, U queen
A pair from destiny’s womb

3. … this is love
That’s how U define our preposterous desire to win
To conquer tha other human
And render them inhumane

4. Pardon tha truth, my dear
U do not know how to love me,
But U try

5. Beyond reason
Your love for me, a lonely citizen
Beyond the malicious attempts of counter-reason
Your insanity, tha loneliest native of your silly mind

6. Thousands upon hundreds of words
Verbs, nouns, phrases, proverbs, idioms
Similes, onomatopoeias, metaphors
Hyperbole, oxymoron, parables
Eulogies and antilogies
U hail at me

Words – just words
Words horny with idolatrous adoration
Micro-genetically designed
To hail at my incapacity to comprehend your silliness
Your corroded idea of love
A notion so gentle, so fucking perverse
Confusing affection with selfless attention
Confusing need with love
I’m just a prize of your uncontrollable wanting

7. U love me, but…
U, do not love me
For damn-you-stretch-yourself, U cannot
For damn-you-strain-your-wits, U know not
Tha what, and tha how of love
Tha why – a ruthless burden I shall spare U

8. Pardon tha truth, my dear
For U, cannot know how to love me,
But U try

9. Beyond restriction
U are a prisoner of your fucking love
A docile slave of your bizarre love U are
Beyond redemption

10. Ignorance is a dangerous bliss
Your claim an irrevocable sin frowned upon by amadlozi
For U know tha rhetoric of your mouth
Reciting it in tha poetry readings of your lonely mind
But ironically, failing to know what U mean

11. Too bad I am truth
Most hated by liars grinning white their tooth
Their teeth, with hate they seethe
Scorned and tormented for my thorough-bred confessions
Crucified for my failure to understand this sham
This pardonable misdemeanor
A leaking crucible of evil
A serial social taboo untabooed
But relabeled love

12. Blame tha truth, dearest
For U have no clue how to love me,
But U try

Jonna jo, ngwanešo, U try!

13. But However sweet, and Nevertheless
Notwithstanding, Howbeit, Yet frankly my dear
U shall not test-drive your b-grade love on my heart

14. U shall not be allowed to enjoy
My sanity like a disposable toy,
U may as well keep your lovingness
Your shallow excuse to fucking possess
A claim - To know that which I myself know less

15. To call a truce on my rebelling emotions
Straightening out, damn ironing my distortions
To dress my cold heart with fire
To quick-fix tha world like an orthodox messiah
Tune all to harmony, gag tha whiners
Courier me to tha toilet and wipe my lazing anus

16. To bathe and feed me

17. Live for me, and die for me

18. Pray for me
Grant my prayers
Wing me, and fly for me

19. To save me in the coming apocalypse
To take my swim in tha boiling rivers of hell
And negotiate me a five-star room in paradise
Where only god and his virgin angels dwell

20. Where U imagine you live

21. In a reality unreal
A miscarried child of your mind

22. Where truth is not welcome
And tha windows of sincerity are kept shut

23. For there is one undeniable truth:

24. U shall never know how to love –
Not me, not U, not anyone
Damn, even if U tried
-Fokof Satan-

what do you think about this poetry: busy@webmail.co.za