Love

Our tits, my son

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Our tits, my son.

My son got born earlier in the morning and I am ecstatic. He is a gift from my ancestors and the Universe. I treasure him. He is my gold in a world that’s been digitized; valuable, tangible, priceless. It’s like falling in love for the first time, I am in la, la, land, heaven, a place of pure bliss devoid of the construct of time. I’ve never felt love quite like this, it’s like I am floating on butterflies through the clouds of the light blue sky. He makes me believe in miracles. There is a God, – he is proof, a blessing. I am thankful and grateful for this opportunity. I will teach him everything I know with an open heart and a lot of love. I will guide him. Help strengthen him to make sure he is the great man destiny intended. I’ll teach him about business and wealth creation. I was lucky I was broke and built an empire out of nothing. Being broke is experiencing your own mortality, it is being vulnerable and helpless to effect change or influence outside stimuli, that’s why I worked so hard to be rich, to have the illusion of immortality, to be invincible. You’ll be invincible from the start, girls are going to be sending you pictures captioned “you could tear this up”- I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll teach him about the importance of having an inner scorecard and not one based on external factors. Don’t claim to be anyone you’re not. Love yourself unconditionally. Respect everyone and beware of placing too much value on material things because they end up owning you, depriving you of your peace and happiness. When you say you are going to do something, do it, no excuses, be a man of your word my son. I’ll teach him about girls and women. True, they are an enigma and I don’t know much about their motivations and thought patterns. They are truly a strange species, unpredictable, highly volitile, sometimes unstable, frightening and devastating like a natural disaster. They are difficult to assess and understand, maybe they really are from Venus and us from Mars, it would certainly explain why it’s inhospitable for man; too much chaos presided, women can’t co-exist with one another and I don’t mean to boast but man is returning to Mars. Mars is a great place filled giant screens that showcase football and other sports daily, the home of Elon Musk, Richard Branson and Jeff Bezos, a place of sport cars and super sleek, fast Teslas, pool tables, infinite alcohol and drugs, no tough decisions, no responsibilities and no circumstances. A place of Goodfellas like Scorsese and De Niro but no death, just collaboration, a brotherhood and positive energy.

But in planet Earth, women are useful as you will soon experience. For one they register and process large quantities of data faster and more efficiently. This is important in the matters of life and death, you need a strong counsel. The trick is just to love and accept them as they are, don’t try to understand them or assert your will on them, understand that disaster might strike at anytime and accept reality for what it is – I think that’s what God intended. Just love them because even with all their uncertainties, they are the most valuable species in the whole Universe, they make life worthwhile, they are the nurturers of life. I’ll give you all the information I’ve attained from my interactions with them. I suggest you seek consultation from other wise men who will also share their experiences and knowledge, this will give you a more wholistic picture. I can’t guarantee concise data regarding women my son, no man can, we are from Mars and they are from Venus.

Of course, there’s this issue of the Oedipus Complex. I suspect there will be some hostility between me and you. You want to possess your mother (my woman) and you are rightly entitled to her. I won’t oppose you son, for the first few months, she is all yours. I will refrain from all acts of jealousy. I know you will appreciate those tits more than anything in the world. Your father is a genius, a visionary and I chose those tits for you. I qualified and discarded a lot of applicants for you to have those perfect tits. That’s my early gift to you because I love you so much. Enjoy them, take your time, don’t rush to get old, drive slow and enjoy the scenery and sensations. Those are our tits, my son, at least for now.

Buy the great man Coffee :https://www.buymeacoffee.com/Antakalipa

The suit

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The suit

Sello Maake ka-Ncube, self-explaintory, it sells itself, star power, an absolute legend. Which reminds me. Where is his star? I thought I was hallucinating reality, maybe it’s at the corner? Maybe it’s still in construction? I searched and I searched – nothing. The greats have their star but where is his? He is Archie Moroka, Daniel Nyathi, Sipho Makhaya, a gladiator in the world of T.V and theatre, performed and produced the best, what more must he do? Rueful, a missed opportunity. Give the man his flowers. He deserves them, he is ours.

I was on the square for the opening of “The Suit”. Full house, esteemed individuals and celebrities, the excitement was contagious, Covid style. Everyone was infected by the spirit of the show. A story about betrayal, set in Sophiatown. Tells the story of a wife who commits adultery when his husband is at work and is one day caught in the act. The man flees leaving his suit behind. As a form of punishment, the spiteful husband forces the wife to integrate the suit in their every day life, dinners, social gathering, church, everything. What used to be a duo is now a trio. Humiliated at the gazing and the constant talk behind her back, the wife ultimately takes her own life. The show was humorous, gritty and serious, I appreciated the work of artists. They did their best to tell the story as authentically as they could. However, I did have a couple of issues with the story-telling techniques. Great story but it could have been executed better. Too much telling and not showing. Although the writing was great, it was descriptive and emotive. You got the two perspectives of the partners. They shared their inner most thoughts and communicated their state of mind. We know that Matilda (the wife) felt lonely and the husband oppressed due to his long hours at work. It still felt like a recital, a book reading. Felt rushed and we were manipulated into feeling a certain way. We couldn’t come up with our own conclusions. The audience’s imagination was not allowed to roam around.The show needed to be longer with an interval. Character arcs and ending predictable. I never read the book but I knew the conclusion before time because the narration was leading me there, it told me what to think. The show had elements of physical theatre. It was a good show and the character of Mr. Maphikela provided the comic relief, the audience loved him. He saved the show for me. The set evoked the feeling of Sophiatown. The music added an element of drama and the lighting moved the story. Maybe I went to the theatre expecting another “Nothing but the truth”, maybe I am disappointed it was not that. Tshireletso Nkoane is beautiful, I understand the intruder in her marriage. Job Kubatsi and Lebohang Motaung humorous and didn’t put a foot wrong. They were relatable and when we did have a scene with dialogue and the characters interacting with each other, the show was gold. The show had a lot for 80 minutes, the narration of the story compressed and minimized the performance arts element in it. However, it was still a great show. The audience loved it and it garnered a standing ovation. Congratulations J. Bobs Tshabalala and the whole team and a deserved standing ovation.

Marisa Tomei

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Marisa Tomei

A beautiful creature you are, Marisa Tomei, you light up the room with a smile, a man would go the extra mile to please you. Your beauty makes the orbit move slower, paralyzes like an epileptic with a fit, gives proof to the atheist of your existence, oh yes he exists, you are the proof. A beautiful work of art, talented beyond comprehension, you attract all of the attention and dispel of the tension. Marisa Tomei, you have grace like no other, poise that is regal and a laugh that it not legal. It violates my conscious mind and leaves it in tatters, after that I am weak, unable to speak, incapacitated. It is not of my own volition, your aura is too strong, it makes me act like a little boy and behavior that’s just wrong. Marisa Tomei, you are just my type, perfect in every way. I’ll love you now and forever and there’s nothing anybody can say. You moving at your own pace, living in your own place and winning your own race. Marisa Tomei, I can’t stop thinking about you, you run through my mind like  marathon champion, for hours, for days, for months. I could day-dream about you all day, every day for the rest of my life. I love you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.

Strap-on

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Strap-on

I’ve got the real thing here, strap-on’s not necessary, have you clutching your fists, screaming your lungs out, child birth not necessary, avoiding the c-word but I know the section, cutting through the game to reveal that I am the technician. Dildos and vibrators also not listed, girl-on-girl is hot but scissoring is conceited. If you want penetration stay on your back or stay sitted, open your legs and I’ll send you into the abyss like you pitted. Strap-on’s are dumb besides I lick ice cream cones too, lick the top mercilessly to send you outta space, then parachute you back to earth cause this is your base. The G-spot is on the first floor at the back window. I can send my inhabitants if you are a widow. Another metaphor, what? Cake? I am cookie monster for heavens sakes. Give me eggs and I’ll butter her up to show you I can bake. Rising to the moment to stick my warm meat, while strap-on’s are cold like an empty seat. Strap-on’s and vibrators got no soul, while my creampie you can contain in a bowl. I’ve got the real thing here and it’s better than a strap-on, it’s warm, goes all night, can work at a moments notice and something you can rely on, different strokes means different tempos, a race you can bet on. Strap-on’s are ridiculous, vibrators and dildos too, I also suck like I came to lose, present your breasts and I’ll never choose, devour your whole body like an alcoholic with booze. Girl-on-girl hot but stupid with a strap-on, pussy tantalizing but a corpse with a strap-on, if your nigga a pussy with a Strap-on, get a real nigga with a dick you can slide on.

Second chance

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Second chance

I satisfied 3 women this month, it’s been a good month. I worked hard, I deserve all the acclaim. Of course it could be hot air, women fake all the time. A woman friend of mine spilled the beans and notified me she was faking when we were together. All the moans and groans were an act, she was faking her orgasms. Worse is that I thought I gave a good account of myself, when she broke the news I was devastated because everything was predicated on that moment. It made me think of how many women were faking when were together. She doesn’t even want to give me another chance to redeem myself. She says it would be weird and would ruin our friendship. Disappointing analysis, when has sex ever ruined a good thing? Ironically, not having sex is what will ruin our relationship. Cause right now I am all insecure and I need some feedback, I know I could do better, time has elapsed and I have experience under my belt, the act of lovemaking has become an art, I could make her orgasm and it won’t be an act. I hate it, it’s like she’s got weight over me, she’s got control and power, says she was sparing my feelings and boosting my confidence, how emasculating is that? I’d rather she lay in bed a mute, at least I’d know I wasn’t doing shit. But the faking, the deception, that’s unforgivable! I feel like my whole life is a lie. Still I doubt it, I’d know if she were faking, I mean, what am I a moron? I know myself, I am industrious, I work hard, I don’t believe it, she sang high notes. Being stoic is good and all but women talk, the grapevine is a dangerous place for a bachelor. I don’t think I am crap but I need a second chance to redeem myself. I could do better, I need more raving reviews. We can make it transactional, it doesn’t need to mean anything, I am enlightened, I pay attention, I can deliver a cascade of orgasms, I can prove it, I have 3 happy reviews and it’s midway through the month. I need my second chance or we won’t survive as friends.

Projections

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Projections

The human experience is such a comedy but also a tragedy at the same time. You mean we are not in control of who we love? That secretly the Universe and all the forces of this planet conspire and decide my fate? The arrogance in that notion – it makes me sick! Just maybe everything in the world has already been done and I have to be allocated in a category. Apparently a category has already been assigned to me. Does it mean I am already in a box? Confined and blinded by my restrictions. This can’t be life – there has to be more. Maybe this could be a simulated reality. I now find the subject of love vague and grey. If we subconsciously project our experiences as young individuals originating from our childhood and parents to our partners – Isn’t love predictable, with a pattern? I feel my life is a performing stock option projected to do well in the coming years. I feel life is channeled. I feel everybody lied to me. I feel betrayed. Like love is rigged and fixed. You mean there are more people like me who fell in love because of projections and repressed subconscious desires. Are you saying I am the problem? But I am different.

In that case I hate love. It doesn’t make sense and I renounce life as well. How are conflicting feelings or ideas possible with love? Why are we so obsessive? Are we the ones in our bodies because sometimes I feel possessed by an overwhelming spirit that does what it wants? Is it even real? What’s real? I don’t know. I don’t understand how a mature and practical adult can regress to behavior seen as childish because of love. I don’t understand how someone can be fearful of being alone. I don’t understand why love makes us such bad judges of characters. Why are we willingly blind? I don’t understand why we mistake a narcissist for a genius, the suffocator for a nurturer, the slacker for the exciting rebel and the control freak for the protector. Its madness and stupid. Maybe it makes sense that love stems from repressed unconscious desires; because then we can define it and try to examine and understand. In the game of love what is most repressed shines through – the irony in that statement. What a show! Love is clearly the undisputed champion of the world.

Modise (The fallen woman)

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Modise (The Fallen Woman)

10 January 2009
My first day of school was good. High school is not so bad. There’s no initiation at our school so that’s good. You hear horrific stories about initiation in other schools; people are humiliated. It’s a fate I’d rather avoid. Instead of initiation the school, particularly the student’s representative council came up with this diabolical, genius alternative. They gave us Yellow A4 Papers and written on them with ink were: “Chipmunks 2009” and there was space to fill in your name and class. We were requested to get cardboard and stick that A4 paper on the cardboard and then with string hang that to our necks. At all times, we have to wear that board. To further humiliate us, every grade 8 student had to get a signature from a member of the student’s representative council. There are 40 prefects – that’s 40 signature. They taunt us, embarrass us and humiliate us first before they sign. I wonder what would happen if I “forgot” my board at home tomorrow. I am glad I am not the only fellow who came from my primary. I saw and engaged in a conversation with like 50 of them. Oscar, Christopher, Lesego and Shaun are also here. I even saw Katlego; in 2006 I relocated and as a consequence I changed schools, in the same school I enrolled with she was new to and she was in the same level. In fact, they put us in the same class. And we become buddies for a while. I changed schools again at the end of the academic year so we not so close but I am confident she remembers me. We could start something, she is hot. I just can’t wait to get to school tomorrow. There’s a big chance that I might be class captain – but we will see tomorrow.

27 March 2009
I was too slow. I saw her walking with somebody – a guy. A Grade 11 student. Did I even have a chance? Damn!

14 April 2010
I didn’t see Katlego and Sihle today. Maybe they have broken up. I mean he is in Grade 12. He probably doesn’t have time to entertain girls. Maybe I should enquire. She walks to the bus station every day sharply at 16:00 pm. I could engineer a moment. What’s the worst that could happen? Try is the best. If I don’t talk to her tomorrow then I have to get naked in the street and just run around – like a madman! Deal?

12 January 2011
I think this year will be a good year. Katlego is in my class. I really feel I have a chance at a perfect year. I have facetime with Katlego – anything can happen. My goals for this year are doing well in the field of academics and have Katlego as my girlfriend.

24 August 2011
I don’t know what is hard about telling her I love her. That I want to be with her. It’s simple enough. She haunts me. I am a disgrace to my ancestors and all my uncles.

4 September 2011
I think I am building something. We sometimes talk for hours on Facebook. Her responses are rapid and she enjoys engaging with me. She tells me a lot. She told me her dream of being a model and I agreed. Smitten yes, but she could be a great model. She told me about her passion for food and I got caught up and mesmerized by her vision. She consumed me. She also shed a light on the dark corners of her life for me. She has deep daddy issues and I think she needs to confront that – not that I told her. How can I exploit that? She excites me. I like her.

21 February 2012
She told me about her substance abuse dilemma. She said she has been clean for some time though. I don’t know what to make of it. I can’t judge because life is tough and I know that. I am not sure, maybe she’s not the girl I thought she was. She’s been through a lot. Do I really need all that drama? That’s why I prefer older, mature women. It’s easier with them. I can’t be the one to save Katlego.

8 March 2012
Another guy? When will she retire from dating in school? However, this changes nothing. I still have the edge. This new guy doesn’t know the things I know about his girlfriend. I could still push the button.

17 November 2012
It was merit evening today. She was announced as the new head girl. I am so proud of her. She’s
great that’s what I always tell her. For her speech she used the speech that I wrote her. That makes me a part of her moment for life. What a special day!

28 January 2013
Funny how I always think about her. The fact that I have a girlfriend has no weight in this situation. She’s hot, she’s sexy.

1 October 2013
She recommended a notorious club located in the area of Randburg that is known for outrageous prices on alcohol for our Matric Farewell Party. Entrance is R500 and a 6 pack is R250. Yea, right like that is going to happen. Not everybody is living on the dark side – not everybody has a sugar-daddy. I wish I had money. Everything is easier with money.

3 September 2018

I started talking to her again. She hit me up on Facebook and asked for my number to communicate on Whatsapp.

7 September 2018
She still excites me. She gives my mind a rush. I asked her to send me her nudes and she did. She has the best tits in the world. It was routine. I sent her a picture. Normally, they send me explicit pictures and today was no different. You see with the nudes in my possession, I have the psychological edge – the power; I can make them do anything. They are trapped and in danger of being a slave to fabricated intense desire. The subconscious can be evil sometimes, I think I
exploited her “daddy issues” problem. Or maybe I was just that horny. No, it’s deep rooted: I like her. She sent me videos that were out of this world. She’s a freak, she’s dangerous, she has scars, she’s an exception, different and I love that about her. I would do anything to fuck this girl.

19 November 2018
I think I hold rights to her mind. We had an explicit conversation on Whatsapp today and she said she wanted to ride me good. In her own words, she said “I am going to blow your mind away.” She objectified me – it was the coolest thing EVER! She wants to own and dominate me! Before I replied to her messages I closed my eyes and acknowledged the internet. I thanked Nikola Tesla, without him none of this would have been possible. He propelled humanity forward. He died a virgin so no man could die a virgin ever again! After about 5 minutes, I opened my eyes and replied to her kind proposition. I am so going to fuck this girl!

WORSHIPPING WOMAN

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WORSHIPPING WOMAN

I love him. He makes me feel like I can fly. I believe in all of his dreams – I think he can change the world. The thing with sexuality is that it objectifies and I don’t to constrain him to that label because he is also intelligent and brilliant. He does have impressive attributes. He works out and has muscles in all the right areas. He has beautiful athletic and manly legs – well defined and toned. He has an ass made in heaven. He drives me crazy. What I would do to be his. I wish he would just wrap me around in those firm, strong and defined arms. I wish he would come in to me. I wish I were the object of his desire; I don’t care about forever – just give me now, today honey! He makes me excited. I feel my blood-level rise up in his presence but it’s ice cold when I talk to him – I can never bring myself to tell him how I feel about him because it’s difficult to phrase in a sentence or explain in a paragraph. What I feel for him is metaphysical; the notion that I’d find him in any realm.

It is not a sex thing; maybe it is written on the fine print but it’s not the product. His the product –Everything about him. It is love. I love him with all his imperfections if you can find them. Just maybe love is being excited. That’s what I do when I think of him and our future – I get excited and it’s almost uncontainable like beer in a glass. He makes me weak to my knees; I think love is the submitting voice within. I often experience high temperatures of fiery fires between my legs and I often wish that he would turn it out – his equipped, he can deal with it and I grant him the power to use force; I am his to do whatever he likes. The disappointment of having to do it myself weakens the self-perception of myself like cancer cells to the immune system. Why doesn’t he see me?

What’s wrong with me? I could make all his dreams come true if he gave me a chance. If he gave me a second glance. If he actually stopped and started gathering data instead of being passive in his activities and actions. I am different from any other girl in the world. I am a keeper. I will make you happy. I just wish he would look for options on the sidelines.
I have a chance if I lure him with sex. Sex is manipulative. Sex is to give and take – it involves mutual undertakings. Sex is sly. Sex unlocks. Sex is about power. Sex is dangerous. The unconscious and conscious are actively engaged in the process for both individuals – you are prone to any influence or external factor. You are vulnerable and naked also in literal terms. Repressed thoughts and memories might sneak out in the form of a shadow to haunt you. Sex is to get dirty.

Alternatively, I could mirror him. Find out what he likes. What makes him tick, that will get him to love me. To embrace me. I could get close to his best-friend and maybe plot a plan to cook for him. I could show a bit of effort when it comes to my profile pictures on my Socials. I could write him a letter or a poem. I could tell him I love him – no bad idea, I can’t be direct. It will scare him off. I need to be stealth like a thief in the night. I need to be indirect and attack on the flanks – that’s how I will win his heart.

SILVER TONGUE DEVIL

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SILVER TONGUE DEVIL

He told me that I am the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. That I have everything, the smile, the body and the personality. I think he is a professor on hyperbole, a professor in the sense that he can hold a seminar with a room full of profiled, esteemed and affirmed men and make them all feel special – subjectively. The way he paints pictures with his mouth sometimes – it’s incredible, work only rivalled by the Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci. You know that his comments are exaggerated, falsified, fabricated and unverified but you still get lost in them. It’s like they bypass your conscious mind. He is so smooth. He is sweet. I am in love with him. He makes me feel like I can fly. When he touches me, I get hypersensitive and my nerves are all over like the scattered stars in the night sky. I love being seen with him, he drives up my worth and makes people talk. They are all envious, they want to be me. I am known like I matter when I am with him, when I get seen with him. I feel safe when I am with him. I feel secure. Like I can invest my time with him like a stock portfolio. I have a feeling it will yield positive dividends.

My first time was amazing. Sex is the most beautiful thing in the world. It has warmth. It is caring. It is sensitive. It is courteous. It is expressive. It is freedom. We got lost in each other’s arms and it felt like I was dreaming. I was liberated. I blinked three times, finally I am at the pinnacle of life; what the human experience is about, sex – love. He is the most important thing in my life. I don’t want to lose him. When he was in me, the world stopped and it was just me and him. Nothing else mattered. I felt his soul, his heartbeat. It’s just a process I fail to encapsulate with words you had to be there it was just passionate, heated and concentrated. It was like an explosion. Our souls reacted a force superior to nuclear. We were the bomb that exploded and left everything in ruins.

He is sometimes distant in a way I don’t understand. I am here for you. Please talk to me. I don’t know what to make of it. He confuses me. I think he is lying to me, maybe he is using me. Maybe I am a secret and there are thousands of me. Maybe I am making this up and he really is busy as he proclaims. I always see him after some time and when I do, it’s great! He takes me to 5-Star Hotels and game reserves and it’s so romantic. We usually travel long distances. We explore the country. We have the best sex in the world. With his tongue he takes me through the solar system, through the milky lane, straight to the many galaxies and back to earth. He gives me showers of orgasms. He satisfies me. He takes care of me. He is the best lover I have ever had!

He promised to marry me one day, I can’t wait! He makes my dreams come true. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t believe he loves me. I love him.

22 December 2016

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22 December 2016

All these women are the same. It’s the illusion of choice that’s confusing my niggas. They all do the same thing. They all say the same things. You can never rely on a bitch. They will break your heart and threaten you with pregnancy. They are crooked and sly. They are nothing. They are dirty. I always advice my niggas to snack and then leave. They are unworthy and uncertain like rain in winter. They are evil. They don’t use their brains. The age of information has made things worse because now there’s 6 of me and we all want the same thing. I fail to respect them because I always win. I feel too much emphasis is placed on the pussy – it’s not deep; they are all pink on the inside. Illusions are clouding my niggas judgements. You can snack any girl you want. I am not a bad guy. After all, If I just purchase a 6 pack this could be a transaction.