Inspiration mind map...

Have a great day

My doepelganger...

Who is this woman?... My twin I say. Except she's hotter and skinnier and and and...

Hello Friday...

Return to innocence lost

RETURN TO INNOCENT LOST - THE ROOTS feat. Ursula Rucker

Muffled sound of fist on flesh
Blows to chest
No breath
Air gasps
You ain't nothing but white trash, bitch!
With each hit, each kick, each...broken rib
Crack, Crack!
Bones are crying
Mommy's crying and bleeding
And pleading
And then...
Daddy wants to fuck
Dick hard, swelled with power rush
And as if all that wasn't enough
Mommy's seven months heavy with birth
As...Daddy grunts and cursed drunk nothings in her bloodied ear

(singing softly)
First...lullaby
First...Son...will...ever...hear
And never forget

Mommy almost bled to death when she have him...finally
She'd already lost...three
Uterus-bruised, shredded, and weak
From being daily beat
And Friday nights were the worse and...
Daddy never came with flowers
Instead he spent hours at some corner spot
With some bar pop named Cookie
Putting his thing down
Soiling Mommy's sheets with...
Sweet...talk shit,
Cookie's cheap lipstick,
Hair grease, sperm, and jezebel juice

To hell with the good news that...
He was a father for the first time
His thirst for wine and women
Clouded his vision...
No warm welcome for mother and son
Just...
The rank smell of ass-crack, funk, and cum
But Mommy's prayerful strength-her best defense
She...burned the dirty linens
Made a fresh bed
Laid sleeping First Son down
And never made a sound
As she purged her scourge
With birth-blood and quiet tears
Watching as her fears and love and sacrifice
Lie there in his soft skin and new life
Breathing, dreaming, fresh from God's eye
Mommy's little survivor
Like...her

Mommy called crazy and scorned
'Cuz she two more born
One boy soon after
The girl much later and...
Although they were both sung the same lullabies of hate
Her...First Son, the first one
Whose...womb-world was profaned
Came of age playing street games
With Stewie, Rezzie, and Little Brother

'Till his heart start to wither
In pain and shame
Blamed Mom for the wrong she let Daddy do to her
And him...
Let...sins of the Father cause his Innocence to wander
Found honour amongst thieves
Chose to squander his dreams
Stopped believing in himself
Become prodigal with his life
Make impossible shit right with...
Gang-ties, crime, lies
Erase wise, woeful words of Mother
Replaced them with absurdities of others
Who had also lost their way

Played a different kind of street game now
First Son plunged deep
Speak street-family vows
Espouse no causes but his own
See, he couldn't protect Mommy's neck from Daddy's grasp
Or...protect Mommy's ass from Daddy's wrath
Couldn't shield her ears from...
Daddy's foul-mouthed, liquor-breath jeers
His only defense-served be confidence
Brown bottles housed his swift descent
Phones called cops on block frequent for his shenanigans
Now...Daddy and him twins in addiction
Driven to false-hearted heavens and friends
By liquefied demons
Had become what he despised from Conception 'til End
Destined for a demise
Survived nine lives of staying high
Conning, jewelry-pawning, arrests, theft
Womanizing...only for money, never for sex
Bullet in chest, baseball bat to the head
Left for dead
So, eyes wide and glassy
Speech...slowed and slurred
Lips twitched with caked-up codeine candy
And mouth corners one December 24th
Mr. Hide and False Friend
Took final ride to suburban supplier
Shots were fired by the gray man
With shaky hand
But not shaky enough to miss...
Hit...Lost Boy in back
So-called Friend runs for door
Leaves First Son blood-born
Lying alone in blood on cold floor

Death was the cost of...
Returning to Innocence Lost...

Baby 'Sis awake for dawn on Christmas morn
To Mommy's sobs and shakes
Daddy's silhouettes of regret
All past, omitted, and absolved by lost
As they clung to each other
Knowing...

Slut Walk Johannesburg

"Don't blame the victim, blame the perpetrator! No matter what you wear, or what you look like, you have the right not to be sexually assaulted, and if you are, you have the right not to be blamed for someone else's actions."

Check out the Facebook page for more info, and don't forget to "LIKE" to keep up with the updates... http://www.facebook.com/pages/Slutwalk-Johannesburg/147836015284588?sk=info

Channel O by Ogilvy

Brilliant Youth Month Posters by some incredible creatives at Ogilvy. So proud to have been a part of making these powerful posters. Well done.


Enjoy. And read through!!!

Reggae

Hip Hop

Kwaito

Credits:
Copywriter: Xoli Ntusi and Zwelakhe Tshabangu
Art Director: Tumi Sethebe and Nkgabiseng Motau
Creative Director: Tseliso Rangaka
Photographer: Siphiwe Nkosi

And all the behind the scenes people who helped make it happen (left out a lot )

Go Team Red 

POWA Mixtape

Born from #IsaidNo blog, into artists coming together to help make a stand.

I'm speechless, moved and grateful. We may have a long way to go to heal, but this is one hell of a start.

I really don't know what else to say; just click download, listen and feel, help make a change. 

The mixtape: www.thevolume.co.za
The video to POWA: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BMdM03miCgo
The lyrics to the song that started it all: http://tumimolekane.blogspot.com/2010/11/powa.html

Thank you to all involved

I Love You

The day we met...

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? 

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. 

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. 

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. 

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” 

- Marianne Williamson

The Ad Game

At work on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to catch up on work (there aren't enough days in the week) and also get a head start on the coming week. I'm in the middle of a few exciting campaigns - which means stress level sare sky high, but also the adrenalin rush of the game is also at its peak.

Anyway, every time I have a bad day, or question my love for this industry I have a few mantra's.
One of them being "this is the life I chose" and when that doesn't work "we're ridding the world of bad advertising one day at a time" - this second mantra is my little ode to this fantastic, funny and clever campaign for the first South African print advertising awards The Eagle Awards...


Enjoy

I'm going back to work...

Ma went to Dukes...

There is a milkshake and burger heaven and it is called Dukes

Before I continue, please take note of the address  - 14 Gelneagles road, Greenside. Etch it into your mind and never forget.

Dawn and I had a delicious lunch at Dukes yesterday afternoon,  after my milkshake craving would not subside. A twitter-friend (who has become my craving angel) Robyn Clark suggested Dukes as the place to get awesome milkshakes in a comfortable setting.

All the reviews online rave about the place and when I saw the pictures of the burgers - I was sold. Dukes is... Love

This is my new happy place. The service is genuinely friendly, the staff are interested in the restaurant and the customers, the setting is comfortable and relaxed; could easily spend hours there without even realising, the milkshakes are delicious and creamy, the food, oh my goodness the food. Just reading the menu, I was salivating. You will most certainly do the same. Everything is reasonably priced and well worth it.

To the left, is my Mev. Vark. (or Miss Piggy) with bacon and chorizo sausage. Also had half portion sweet potatoe wedges and half portion of chips. The wedges and chips are drizzled with the most delicious balsamic reduction - I almost licked the plate because of it. Dawn had a salsa burger, also delicious I assume from the moans with every bite.

And of course - the real reason I was even there... The milkshakes. That's Dawn and her Oreo milkshake. I had a Chai Tea one. Absolutely divine.

 They have a little outside courtyard area - perfect for us smoker and those opposed to roadside / pavement dining. The blankets were a welcome bonus.

Inside they have these gorgeous grand couches...


Thank you Dukes for a splendid Sunday afternoon. I'll most definitely be back.

Almost forgot that we ran into Lebogang having a meeting. Cutie pie.

Aunty-ville...

I'm going to be an Aunty..... I have preggy friends and family, and I've already become imaginary God mother and Aunty to all the little people coming into this world

I absolutely cannot believe how excited I am for these miniature beings. I can't wait to hold them, smell their new soft skin and listen to them breathe, look into their eyes and send a little prayer up for them to be awesome and happy for a long long life.


I can't wait to see the anxious and excited mommies. I can't wait to see pictures and listen to stories about everything, from poop diaries to first words and first smiles. This is such an exciting time. Makes me all warm and fuzzy

Look at this beautiful picture of UrbanMosadi and her partner with their oven of love, shot by Max Mogale...

I'm going to be an Aunty!!!!!!!! Little people everywhere....

Intoxication...

"For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication"  
Nietzsche, Friedrich

Found this quote a while ago, and at first I didn't get it, but then it hit me. It is similar to two things I've always said and believed. One being "That the world is moved by love; everything we do is about, for and the result of love" and the other being " The truth is art"

A high school friend once said to me that it is all good and well to have a vision, but you must also become a slave to that vision. And it makes complete sense.

My destiny is my passion, my passion is my love, my love which moves me and moves the world, my world where my truth is the art I create - the truth which I'm intoxicated by. My core. My purpose. My dreams which are my reality.

So, I ask myself, if I know all of this, why then am I afraid of my own greatness? The greatness I know fuels me to live my truth?

What if today, we lived became slaves to our vision?