It is honestly all in the mind. Poverty is only a state of mind, and believe me, it takes the power of the mind to change things. It all starts from a thought – if you can think about it, you can achieve it; just the philosophy of converting that thought into something tangible. Let us rather call it a pregmatic process, rather than a philosophy.
Too much pressure exerted on this soul
To a diamond it could turn
Bad emotions ignited upon it but somehow
It don’t burn
Starring out the window, through
The pain is how it learns
The dismal distortion of reality disempowers
It to discern
The harsh reality summons to this soul
Which is as hard as a born-sinner trying to
Change to be better after a confession
The evil is in vain, felt in the blood when
Active leaves an indelible transgression.
Myself is the king of my soul without any
Dark cloud or grey cloud I will always
Having a smile even on the phase it moves
Through, despite all the
This soul might be lion-hearted but it has
It has made so many mistakes it shows it
That it has tried
Like an ocean let it flow amongst its
Peers with a low tide
Expressing these words, there is nothing
Its heart was broken like an object that man
Adding more pain with reality
Subtracting all this pain, it encounters
Because the reciprocation of darkness
Brings the presence of the light
The soul discovered a method just to
Make things right
It is now feeling uplifted, at the top
Like an exponent
By faith it was the known destination
After all those moments
The soul is yours
Do you believe that what you wear – your style, has the power to convey a message of who you are to others? It is very flabbergasting to get creative with what you wear, actually it’s all about how you wear it because everybody dresses but what really makes you stand out is how you dress.
An epitome of exquisite style.
Instagram : malum.metro
“Fashion is what you buy and style is how you wear it. “
La Petit Mort
Chickens killed is fowl play
Miscellany o’ death or euthanasia is poignant
And not as therapeutic as the smell of a bouquet
i am nihilistic
And yet do not understand death
Without a stab wound
i still fear the sheath
Holding a knife, any victim will
Be driven mad soon
Death is inevitable
We cannot take the key out of ignition
When it drives us mad
Doom! Doom! Dead!
A Cockroach is dead
You might soak in red
You might choke in bed
Still, we are prisoners
And death our jail
Inescapable, we tried
But we failed.
Anatomy will be the death of me
We live, we die
Why not let it be?
By Remmogo Phukuile
You are the balloon they are jealous of. You are a helium balloon, but you are on the ground, what’s holding you from floating?
Your enemies -or frenemies because sometimes you might not know who pretends. They do not want to see you pop, but they want to see you blow. Do not let them hold your string. Do not let them hold you back.