A letter to my fellow countrymen in South Africa
Let us start with what makes me unhappy comrades. This undiscovered bridge called language or rather mother tongue. The life of the artist, poet,...
Millennials, peace and war in our time
They have a name. Millennial. Revolutionary. Comrade. Countryman. Youth. They have shamed us into thinking what was impossible before. The rest of us are...
Why I write the way I do
In futurity I want to find new realities in the notes from the universe. I think that is why I fluctuate from putting pen...
Erasing the colonial and colonization out of Africa
What the future holds for South Africa is more poverty, more polarization between the haves and the have nots if our leaders in government...
The Quiet Death of Lonmin
Their souls are silent now. Shot execution style. Flowers do not grow on abnormality. At first, I saw them everywhere. They...
Special Report: The Scrapbook of a Bipolar
The reason I am writing this is to help someone who is in the same situation where I found myself eighteen years ago so...
The Afternoon of Shakespeare’s Mind (Part 3)
Perfume. Coming back to you. Half of my life’s work so far has been written in the vein of tragedy and when I have...
Shakespeare’s Nervous Breakdown (Part Two)
I owe people money and I am writing again. I must tell you. I love you my darling. I hope that you are not...
Shakespeare’s Cry in autumn (Part 1)
I am a martyr. My blood twitching in my flesh, every bone, platelet and cell. I know my voice now. It is a claw....
Session with the Psychologist
I plunge into the sudden glare of fury, hysteria and trepidation. There is a primal scream inside each of my hypomanic brain cells. ...