Activities of Okello Baloyi

We used to have a tale of dreams, then those who first licked the reward of their sweat, made us to feel less than what we were, not because we didn't mount to anything but because they have fear that we'll be greater than them.

My future was judged before I unveiled my desires, terribly by someone who inherited nothing from birth, thoughts visit me 'why should one compete with me, don't I deserve better' but I guess greed works in mysterious ways.
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Both had lovers of their own
And she knew, she was his mistress
For he felt it too
Who would have known
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When your soul leaves your body, I wasn't aware, but I heard your footsteps deep in my heart. All I wanted was to trade my life for you, but the decision wasn't mine to take. Why we undulating acquiring belongings and grooming ourselves if it won't be needed to the other side.

What's death to life? when roses appear to be beautiful at first hand but eventually die. I was that kid who would only cross the road when held by hand. As I once bear the burden of crossroads, surely my grief won't take my life.
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I'd say you've stolen my heart, but can an abandon heart be stolen? while no one else seems to care for? I'd be a man who's clueless when it comes to unconditional love, if you didn't love me dearly!

It's funny how I ended up with my fantasy, we share the same affection which can't be measured but our love grows every breath we take. Where no time waits for no one, we collided in a circle of emotions and emptiness be filled with love and joy.
Not always I've met people who understood that I never had anything that I can call my own, but when it pours you were next to me. Your love is the only thing I can hold on to, no matter what! you'll always be in my heart!
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Wind making sounds, moving anything that could be shaken
Skirmish always grow to be a real big deal
And there I was chasing the speed of water
Without nothing to live for
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The Peace Warrior Of Mzansi, among heroes - a colossus!
Sun Of The Nation; a rare gift of Providence.
Once, entangled in the web of racist succubus;
Unruffled he declares before High Justice:
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Life: A Continuous Process

I must live after I leave,
to tell—or finish—my story:
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You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
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