Erotic Poetry: My First Anthology Feature

I am glad to inform you that the manuscript of the erotic poetry anthology has been sent to the publisher, Dr Bibi Bakare-Yusuf, and to the copyeditor of Cassava Republic Press, and the team who compiled the poems are now waiting for their feedback. It will now need approximately 3 months lead time to send out proofed copies to potential blurbers for the book (they generally take forever and forever to respond) and to find two relevant authors for the foreword and the afterword.All the books that CRP will publish in 2013 were ready and sent to the printers towards the end of 2012: this means that the release of the collection is scheduled for February 2014.

I am so thrilled!

Apologies/Updates

Greetings everyone!

I know I have been silent for quite some time now. I was struggling to log onto my account, and I eventually gave up. This year I tried a different approach, I actually put in some effort in trying to retrieve my password and guess what, it worked out. In my absence on this site, I decided to start a new blog www.brokeassgraduate.wordpress.com. This was meant to be an anonymous account but I decided to put it on my other social network accounts. This blog is not a poetry blog, but it is a 'life' blog, please go check it out!!!!

You can also follow me on my other networks www.facebook/ceastyle and www.twitter.com/cecemata - oh and we cannot forget www.youtube.com/ceasermata ! Thank you so much!

Heavy

I don't want to keep these thoughts inside my head,
Not a heartbeat longer.
They weigh heavy on my bed, they seep through my pores,
And drench my sheets and taint my dreams.

Truth

Take me in whole heartedly
consume me and dwell within.
I want to bath in your flames purposefully,
Sanctify me, so my tongue can be free of sin.

Bedazzler

Never lose your "bedazzler"
You're only as bright as the light you allow to show.
Never, unchain yourself from yourself, after all you are your own handler,
stay true and faithful to the little things and always choose originality over "the flow"

Ceaser Mata

Constantly

Constantly fooling myself
Sitting constantly giving all that I have left
Pouring myself into you endlessly
and loving wrecklessly

Ceaser Mata

AMY



R.I.P Amy



All I will ever be to you, is a fan you’ve never met,

And yet to me you’ll linger as a lost souvenir that I shall never forget.

Your voice was like emeralds in my our ears,

Trickles of lake water, matured way before your years.

You lead a care-free life, some swore for you unpretentious and humble ways,

Now you’re gone, and no longer are your days.

This may be so, but your records will never collect dust in the attic

They will ring like bells, gracing this old crooked house with music.

All this poem will ever be to you will be one you’ll never read,

But I will always value all the great things written about you and understand your misdeeds.

My Tea Party

I am planning on having a tea party for my half-birthday,
at the Botanical gardens, preferably on a Saturday.
Blessed be that morningm with blue skies, and chirping birds,
singing beautiful melodies, none have ever heard.

Let it be that all my friends come,
cordially, they are yet to be invited to wonderland under the sun.
Treats, tea and so much more,
poetry, friendship, all the things I adore.

I am planning on having a time of my life,
no loud music, no disc jockies, we will dance to the music the wind and be merry.
Walking all over our sadness and strife,
even if it's for a few hours, we will eat, and be merry.

Let that day come,
let that day embrace us equally,
we will jump, sing and run,
in the gardens so lovely.

This has been just a note of excitement and joy,
now let all my close friends be there, I pray, every girl and every boy.

Ceaser Mata

Failed Experiment

It is as if our lives were rearranged so that we were unable to acknowledge each others existence. Rearranged so that what was could no longer be. Funny how its.working for you. You see right through me...matter of fact...you dont even see me. I cant even say u forgot...coz how does one forget what one never saw...smelled...touched...tasted

Ceaser Mata

BALCONY (this is the original story about someone I've already written about)

I feel you seeping through these walls. Sweet, raptured, cold but breathing relentlessly.

Your persistence amazes me, it frightens me. How many times have I thrown you out my room, off the balcony. How many times, as an act of self sacrifice have you taken a poisoned dart through the heart for me.

I missed you last night when you didn't show up. I left the window open and set your chair by the fire place.

You watch me when I'm asleep. Are my dreams that entertaining? You keep redecorating my bedroom in the middle of the night, I must say, I do enjoy watching the faces you make when you are struggling to assemble the furniture, as you have done with my future.

I don't know why you won't leave, but one thing is for certain, you return because you love me. Not because you're lost or masochistic.

Should you not materialize one night, I wonder, would I still feel this important as I do this moment as you escort me to the edge of my balcony.

Ceaser Mata

Bleeding Love Letter

Wow how we have turned out so evil, ripping each other to shreds only to slowly sow the pieces back together with the same thread we're hanging by, with no intension of ever stopping.
Waking up with false hopes and falling over our could have beens,
because of our reasons, we're no longer the people we fell inlove with.

I fed you to the flames, when I sold myself to fame.
You led me astray, when you allowed me to have my way.

What's the point of all this armour, if it has kept love away too.
No wait, love was but now it is no longer.
It's like you don't know me, and I don't know you,
and the more we use our weaknesses against each other, the more our demons grow stronger.

Guess we both took the furnace taxi, when we gave it a second chance,
guess we were only fooling ourselves when we tipped the balance.

Yours Fatally

CEASER MATA

My Sugar Sits Untouched

My sugar sits untouched, for I dread the misdeed it would be should I savour it on my tongue

A great deal of pain it would bring should I find pleasure, should I find its purpose under the sun

No longer will I sail across the sea of my desires, for you wait at shore

I do not wish to risk the feeling of hankering for more

I beseech you not to visit my chambers; I therefore assure I will stay clear of yours,

If you have set place, I apologise, I can no longer tend your heart sores.

Ceaser Mata

TORTOISE

I wake up with the surreal smell of contentment, stretching across all four walls of my room,

Realising that it has been almost a year, I suddenly surrender to the feeling of progress,

I smile gawking at the roof, as the air slowly becomes alive, I breathe in deeply, feeling it rush

Inside me and gushing against my delicate welcoming lungs

I can invite you back in my mind now without, being afraid,

I can place and leave you in a conversation without fearing the thought of your name

Or the manic depression it brought let alone the pain

I can look at our picture and smile at a period of my life

I rush out of bed some mornings,

 I crawl out most mornings,

But what I love about my mornings nowadays

Is that they begin, with a tired grunt and a grimace, and shortly after a smile amends my face

Ceaser Mata

Diary Entry 2

Fieldtrip to Port Elizabeth (Nelson Mandela Bay)         

Recently me and my ethnomusicology 3 Class went on a fieldtrip to Port Elizabeth, a coastal city in South Africa, where I happen to have a lot of family in. Whilst there on this particular excursion I learned a lot concerning history, heritage, social, political, economic and environmental issues. I was made aware of some of the unique heritage we possess, for example all of plants with healing properties found in Nelson Mandela Bay, specifically in Bethelsdorp. One of the edifying facts I discovered was the origin of the ‘African bead’ and how it is of European origin. I was even made aware of further areas where our indigenous resources a being exported, and sold back to us at exorbitant prices.

I almost saw the world’s oldest bible but that proved to be an experience for another time. Shared heritage was another important issue that was the discussed.  Issues concerning language and colonialisation were among many of the enlightening issues that the tour guide shared with us. Red Location Museum was the last destination that we stopped at, and we were given a tour and revisited some of the horrific events that took place during the Apartheid era. The trip was all enlightening, entertaining and psychologically exhausting

Excerpt

Excerpt from: Whispered

Written by Ceaser Mata

When I came to, she was the first thing I saw, she looked at me over her worn out glasses. "It's awake she said". I saw him, before, I actually thought about her words. I was confused, but that did not matter because he was here and he had a huge smile on his face, it made me uncomfortable. "Good morning *BEEP*" he said. "I hope you are feeling rested, after your lengthy trip from *BEEP*. I still can't believe half the patients even make it here alive. *BEEP* steers those horses like a mad man".

*SILENCE*

I remember now. I had woken up in a haze, I did not know what was going on. I was being tossed back and forth, side ways and everywhere. What was this thing that contained me like a stray animal. My inner quest was short lived. There he was, in his own cage, he looked dead straight at me, No! He looked dead, his face pale and his eyes startled. I realised that he was not dead, he was just shocked like I was.

When he saw that I had acknowledge his presence, he moved to the back of his cage, in the darkness. I knew he could see me but I could not see him. "Unfair!!!" I yelled....in my head. I could not speak yet, for some reason. I moved to the back of my cage. He was watching me, because after a while he came out and he inspect his surroundings. I realised, I had not seen much of where I was either. It would be annoying to him if I decided to step into the light now, so I let him have his moment.

Excerpt from THE LETTER OPENER

Excerpt from: The Letter Opener

Author:            Ceaser Mata

Right after I had said good-bye to my mother, my alarm went off to wake me up, which was ineffective now since I had already woken up.

“Things are going sceptically flawless today”, I thought to myself. As solemnly made my way out of my once comfortable bed, I wiped my tears thinking of how real the dream felt. My friend Darlene had already begun texting me seeking me out and trying to know where I have been all day.

I remembered my mom told me to pray and I told her I had done that already, but I felt like doing it again. So I put my phone on my study table and advanced away from it. I could still feel the thick realness of the dream trapped in my throat. As I began to tear up again, I knelt in front of the green couch at the far end of my room and began praying.

As soon as I had said “Amen”, I noticed that the car alarm that I did not notice before had gone silent at the exact time, at the end of my prayer. This was yet another occurrence that reminded me of my prayer that very morning for everything to go ‘as planned’. Maybe these little coincidences were not just coincidences, but they were confirmation from God that He was in-charge that day more than ever, at least according to me.

MISPLACED

I Don’t  to wait for another cup of bitterness, I am numbing myself now so later all I will feel will be relief. Relief of having had escaped your brambled embrace. It pierces through my arms, my chest and blood gathers in my mouth and my face

I have escaped with my tears tonight and I have side stepped my fears and if tomorrow comes with scars of midnight I wont have any recollection. The moon remembers for it was watching but worry not I for the tongue of heavenly bodies has become foreign to me.

I am woken up by the sun stinging my forehead and exposing the dried up tears tracking down my face. My yesterdays forever laces and buried in my subconscious and the discomfort misplaced, I am alright.

Ceaser Mata

OLD FISH BOWL

Nevermind me, I’m merely rowing through in my crack ridden off green canoe, row, rowing my canoe pass them, pass you. Sluggishly across still waters of my purposefully blue and green lagoon.

Sin, secrets, excuses rest with the salt at the bottom, unfiltered from reality, yet flowing with hope as to where I am heading? That is undecided.

The waters are listening, obedient, deceptive, the waters are not of me and I am not them.

Nevermind me , I’m merely rowing, trying to find a channel back to my own. Row, rowing in my crack ridden off green canoe pass the old boats.

I took to torn and tarnished places, seen the magnificent and picturesque. All of which I remember, the sweet smell of magnolia, the air caressing my lips as I gaze into a thick mist of expectation

Nevermind me and never mind them too, row, row, I’m just rowing my crack ridden canoe in this old fish bowl

Ceaser Mata

The Chair

His hair-clipper always sets the mood

His fingers habitually maneuver around the hard machine

With one flick of a button, it growls to life

He tones the sound down and all that’s left is a soft sensual vibration

                        He places his hands on my right shoulder, a bit firmer than usual

We look at each other in the mirror

“The usual?” he asks “Yes” I reply

With yen in my eyes

His fingers caress my ear, gently tilting it backwards and forward

To get the perfect angle

His hands slowly re-mould me and call to surface a million different feelings

The tip of his hard machine makes its way down my neck

Pass the sensitive areas

His bodily hair stroking my already sensitive skin

His arms are strong beyond doubt strong

He skillfully walses around me, shaving off bits of my hair

Now and then I’ll feel him

Against my back as he stands behind the chair.

If there’s anything more masochistic

Is when he tilts my head up and slowly rubs anti-irritant around my once hairy beard area

It stings, but it’s nothing he has not done to me before                                

In my head we have made passionate love countless times in that chair

Skilled, yes he was, in making my pleasure his purpose

As he was in cutting my hair.

 CEASER MATA

Forgiving Quality

I’d swallow fire to have this glow you so seek, in a lover, I would be perfect in your eyes, less meek, and in one week I would be the other. In the hopes of being the one, your consort when you are done, I will bear the burn and I will once again wear my once rhythm less heart.

Take my everything, make it into something. Make into hat one thing, that will could make me believe that I’m needed. I want to be the song you listen to all night long. That instrument, that’s only played I

I will keep building shrines until a god hears my plea. I’ll sacrifice more of myself each time, to learn more of what it is, I have to be, in order to be with you. Hoping that you will be that sufficiency once I have been left void, I will learn, I will learn, I will burn, I will burn.


Ceaser Mata