Not all hope is lost there are prolific writers who still thrive for a world that is standing on is own two feet. Ladies and gentlemen I give to you Boikhutso Beekay Ntsoko

This metamorphosis by  Boikhutso BeeKay Ntsoko

This metamorphosis is way too fast.

There’s just too much change in the world.

We live for deception and are triumphant about the pseudo-life that is presented to us in the form of material. They sugar-coat our ignorance with the lie that is education.

We are too quick to accept our misfortunate situations. We settle for less, not because we are unable but because we’re always looking for the easiest way out.

Youth is losing principles, and elders have become too cowardly to pass knowledge unto the following generations.

This metamorphosis is too much. There’s too much transition in the world.

We say we want global corporation, but how do we adapt to globalisation when we don’t have the base of our own characteristics. The youth has grown to become ashamed of their own traditions, norms, values and morals.


We try so hard to fit in, to the systematical way of life, that we forget that we were born to be unique individuals. Each of us is meant to make a contribution in this world. The way of life was free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.

We no longer honour the beauty that is our earth. We constantly feel the need to alter God’s work.

This metamorphosis is just too much. There’s too much migration.

They keep our minds entertained at all times, depriving it of its original duty, to think. People have lost the need to feel. We are parliatively bought to idiocracy.

We have lost the original way of human interaction. People are more proud today of having more friends in cyberspace than they do in reality. We despise conversations with others, not because we hate them, but because we have no vocabulary to uphold a decent conversation.

We have taught our souls to be lazy. We no longer hold value to spirituality. We spit on the feet of our cultures and yet we want to brag about our history.

We no longer hold books in our hands, but Blackberries. We no longer finish our sentences, because we’re too lazy to write or speak. Our minds have grown, since the beginning of history, because it was fed knowledge and it grew, but I get the feeling the 300 000 BC Neanderthals had much more competency than our generation.

This metamorphosis is too much to handle.

Sex has become a sport and a hobby, rather holding its connotative meaning of bringing two souls together and being a means of reproduction.

Today we hook up social networks, date on twitter, disclose our relationships on facebook, brag about our one night stands on BBM. We’ve forgotten to fall in love.

What happened to the olden days of late night corner meetings? When the youth was actually afraid to have an adult catch them holding hands. What happened to the olden days when we wrote love letters and hoped to hell that our parents never saw them? The foolish days of getting smitten? When a dude actually had to tell a girl how they felt. What happened to feeling the rushing lightnings when two people touched? What happened to embracing FEELINGS?

This metamorphosis is scary.

So scary I’m even afraid to bring my offspring into such barbaric debauchery. What are my children going to look forward to? What am I going to teach them as a father? I don’t want to tell my son the sad reality that my generation only saw the beauty of a woman between her legs, or the charm of a man in his pockets. I don’t want to have to lie to my son that the only to embrace your fellow brother is to call him “my nigga”, or to my daughter that the only time a man will make her feel special is when he calls her “bitch”. I would love to impart relevant knowledge to my children, but what knowledge would I be imparting if I none was passed on to me?

How do I teach my son to love and be faithful if I’ve divorced his mother? How do I teach my daughter to be a flawless queen if I’ve made people’s daughters feel cheap in life? How do I teach my son responsibility when I couldn’t even feed him when he was born? How do I facilitate the support of a woman to her man, to my daughter, when her mother calls me a motherfucker, right in front of her?

There’s too much metamorphosis in this world, and it’s scary to think what the world is headed out to be. *Turns and walks away in shame*


 Here's to the re-birth of life and all it entails.
xoxo
Caro-on-the-grind.