Happy unrandomly

When I see that it is all inevitable
Good and rotten interchangeable
Trip up switch beliefs insane intangible
All the humming room in between undeniable

And then my body warms uncerebral
A weight off my shoulders and mandible
Life is certainly unpredictable
I am no longer my own obstacle.

Copyright Β© Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.


    1. Thank you for taking the time out to have a look Amit. Fascinating the discoveries that we make. The human condition. The human connections. Humbling.
      I wish you a lovely afternoon. πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Thank you friends for sharing the article is quite interesting, hopefully we all get that true happiness rays began to warm our hearts and make the heart glad, when we can share with each other sincerely. Lots of love from Gede Prama πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚


    1. Hello there. What a lovely surprise. πŸ™‚ So sweet of you to nominate me but space is too tight to mention and I really love my theme. I hope you get the Liebster Award. πŸ™‚


  2. maybe it’s just me, but these ears are loving the street beat i hear throughout this poem Nomzi.
    ‘I am no longer my own obstacle’, and yes, profound changes begin to happen when we finally
    get out of our own way.


  3. Profound and beautiful. Actually, my boyfriend is a recovering addict who attends AA meetings regularly, so i’ve become quite familiar with their program. This poem made me think of the addicts struggling to get through some of the first concepts they need to accept: mainly, that they are powerless over drugs and alcohol, and that admitting that powerlessness is the first step to actually being able to live a clean and sober life.


    1. Indeed. Addiction is horrible. It is indeed an art to learn to let go. That the sky will not fall down. Really. Have you read “One Art” by Elizabeth Bishop? I love this poem. One of my favourites. Have a lovely weekend. πŸ™‚
      Here it is for you…by Elizabeth Bishop

      The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
      so many things seem filled with the intent
      to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

      Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
      of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
      The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

      Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
      places, and names, and where it was you meant
      to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

      I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
      next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
      The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

      I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
      some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
      I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

      β€”Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
      I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
      the art of losing’s not too hard to master
      though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.


        1. Oh yes, well, at least yes for me! But I often see it in the stores so I suspect many others drink it as well. I just had a cup of rooibos the other day.


        2. You did? πŸ™‚ You know there was a time when one could only find South African things in South Africa. How the world can change for the better. Rooibos tea is sooo soothing in the evening. Have a lovely weekend Dionne. πŸ™‚


        3. I did! And what you said is so true: The world is changing indeed. You too Nomzi, have a great weekend. I’ll find you alongside words sometime soon.


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