About Author

Wesley Pepper

Fine Artist Social Entrepreneur - I'm the piano player, composing my life's soundtrack. Mondego: If u want to put the world right, start with your self.. live your passion !!!!! `If you fail to plan, you plan to fail!!` words by My Late great Grand Father

Profile: Raphael D’abdon

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I hold an MA in Arts and I’m currently a Phd candidate in Linguistic and Literary Sciences through the University of Udine (Italy) and UNISA. My studies focus on migrant writers in Italy and South African literature, and I’m completing my PhD thesis on South African spoken word art. I’ve published articles, essays, translations, interviews, short stories and poems in several volumes and journals, and I’ve edited I nostri semi/Peo tsa rona, an anthology of South African spoken word poetry.As an editor, I seat on the board of literary journals Le Simplegadi (online) and Oltreoceano and collaborate with Sagarana (online). As a cultural activist, I was the co-founder of the International Music and Literature Festival on Migrant Cultures Udine Solidale, and have organized literary events within the Rototom Sunsplash European Reggae Festival.

I am a vegetarian, father of lovely Atisa and husband of inspiring Natalia, I don’t have (and don’t want) a TV and my hero is Prince.

why should our true self be concealed?

(inspired by king senzangakhona, bill hicks, thomas hardy, krs one and some few other guys I am too lazy to mention here)

why should our true self be concealed?

is it because we regret we conceded to impulse

or is it because we are frightened by the dormant mob’s impulsive reaction?

why should our shame be concealed?

is it because tomorrow would be

a different today

reflecting the shades

of the rendition of

our guiltless nakedness?

while trapped in barless cages in slowly

vibrating penitentiaries

we have patiently fabricated

for ourselves

we let embarrassment and grudge be

our bully fellow inmates

instead of happily jumping on the giant

parrot’s open wings and let them carry us away

towards heaven

in the gliding and noiseless stream of our existence

we lay back and watch

behaving like intuitionless white sheeps barked at

by foaming german shepards

covered in gold, blood and holy shit

dominating the valley of hate from

the bloodstained top of cursed stones

and while rabid dogs spit thick terror

driving the herd towards a nearby gulch

we bow our heads and wear outfashioned sins

(with a certain unconfessed pride, indeed)

instead of getting dressed in unconditional

unconditioned love

and hence feeling as a snake must feel

who has sloughed off its winter skin

and indulges in the ecstasy of the sensitiveness of its

new one

we fear

we let our true self be concealed

slam doors in angels’ faces

and allow empty demons be the emcees of

the only poetry event

we have ever been officially invited to

an open mic session

called life

– end –

roadblock (unawareness)

the street to get to the grand hotel was blocked

the block hijacked by a bunch of fat bankers and

stinkin world businessmen


i ask the lady cop

“top secret, top secret”

she mumbles

her eyes spearing through me

glaring at distant sights

despite her icing gaze

she’s kinda


her lips caressed by stardust brushstrokes

her eyelids varnished in brown wash

her hair laced in ochre ribbons

her nails caressed by amaranths delicacy

her gold-plated earrings lulled by spring breeze

she radiates the glowing beams of twilight rainbows

her blistering gun

giving off the familiar aromas

of choicelessness

one sniffs in lotto queues

where comforting unevenness

mesmerizes people into a state

of complacent inertia

her kids at home are playing hide-n-seek

while mummy’s body

is shielding


to protect and serve

those who are plotting

to make them grow up

in a global dictatorship

– end –

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