Payspoogy.tot.piet.kom

A video of a poem by rapper and actor, renaissance man; Yaasin Bey formely known as Mos Def . I am officially bidding farewell to his former name in this post and in my brain and world forever. Wow, dude can play a few strings on this mbira like string instrument. And alas he is dressed to the nines, I guess that is why GQ -a style institution-posted this video. If I can quote one line: "this what death cannot kill", an ode to John Donne's Death be not proud , I call it Death be not proud 2.0 .

Drowning in my sleep I couldn't swim up the stream, away from night and daymares only waking to lucid dreams i'm livid with regret this is the labour I beget the fruits of my laziness are sowed through this bed

Daughters - befitting a Man who once wrote Black Girl Lost on his second album It was written .

BamaLoveSoul Presents Y’all Feel That?: Erykah Badu Remixes, Flips & Covers

One must not tread that slim road called old age all imagination seems to be lost in that realm routine of daily life, the strife to survive is all too much for our fragile minds with not much time we cower from visiting the world of our childhood too much trauma lies in the gripping fear of poverty we cannot think of anything more important than succumbing to a state of indigency We are slaves to this adulthood, this fake maturity it is only ones empathy that this poet views as true maturity for considering the well being of another man is the very embodiment of our humanity I dread a day my mind becomes so old that I can't construct a minute into the future I want my mind to live forever as long it is long enough

a aah. My song of the month.

I repeat, Writers Block is a terrible myth. If you read uninspiring literature, then you are predisposed to scribing uninspiring prose yourself. I have been on a disgusting hiatus of late because I was labouring in this false notion of writers block. I am glad that Iplunged that terrible idea out of my usually pragmatic mind.  From now on literature flows through the bio-digital pores of this ghost here. I will read, then I will write. I will write what I like. I will then post an anti-thesis of this practice of lame minds called "writers block".

Scoopzies! Just a month before the Easter holidays Bongani Madondo is , once again, leading us to his annual or bi-annual secular pilgrimages where he would dissect, listen to, prostate himself to, interviews, or re-evaluate the reigning chief priestess’ body of work, I am awaiting anything but an opus whenever his next book drops , the man has boundless passion for the arts. His chief priestesses are usually iconic African women soul of , rock & folk singers, divas, and healers diviners  of note.  If you read him close you will realize he sorts of sticks with one script, redefining, refining and improvising as well as looking at new anecdotes, buried news, family heirloom,  any unrecorded masterpiece of a song, or – his most potent weapon  —just sitting there, harmlessly, observing ,listening and, as Freshlyground’s Zolani Mahola once said: “luring you into his silent orbit, inspiring you to bare your all, going emotionally naked right in front of him. Or ...

Busi Mhlongo-Urban Zulu  Aah Fela Kuti once advised :"No know go know" . This album is a classic example of a magnum opus by an African musical juggernaut released overseas to critical acclaim but suffering deafening silence on the continent, particularly the artist's country of origin, South Africa. I dare not write an abstract or Bio on this world renowned legendary spirit, Mama Busi Mhlongo; a musical diviner.  Urban Zulu is the first album by her that I had the privilege to suckle.  I am but an infant in this art  ever after life.  Here is the cover art of this classic.

"That wraps the maple syrup of truth in the waffle of propaganda".

Africa Never Stands still  Get yourself a copy of this album. This compilation is way better than the entire collection of Putumayo's African music editions. My favourite joint is featured on Disk 2 of this album; the song is called Ngoma Ngairire by Robson Banda & the New Black Eagles out of Zimbabwe. This is a super gem laden with infectious guitar licks, upbeat bass harmonies and very catchy vocals which I immediately fell in heart with; regardless of my non-existent Shona.   Another stellar song is from the Zimbabwean legend Oliver Mtukudzi dubbed Ndiri Bofu . More on this, payspoogy is still plug-in. A comprehensive review will follow. payspoogy .

Yoh! This blog was gathering dust at the digital landfills for over 2 months now. That's coz I was suffering from social network fatigued, well I still am. It's not coz I was lost in that boogey place called Writer's Block. I was just clearing my desk. This year I am a scholar, an academic, pushing my studies to a steptronic gear. It's time to get even, especially after going through such an odd year, 1+1=11. A bad case of claustrophobia, I and I stuck. Even my appreciation of art was at a very low ebb. I only managed to read one book the entire festive season sans a myriad of magazines that I picked up at the local SPAR. And ironically, the best magazine I read was actually a free copy of Mahala magazine, what a treat. The lone book that I read was The life of Pi -a novel by a Canadian writer called Yann Martel . I read this book so slow that I literally felt like a castaway myself. This psychosis was further aggrievated by the sweet notes of a Mozambiquen beer I disco...