WELCOME

HI! I would like to welcome you to this blog and clothe you with golden clouds of gratitude for having taken your time to visit this blog. As a poet there is a lot that I yearn to say about everything going on around me but at times find writing poems not enough for the thoughts that reside in my mind, therefore with this blog I will be presenting some of my articles, poems, updates on Lesotho Poetry Sphere and more. It is my greatest hope that you will enjoy visiting this blog as I hope to myself.
IN THE NAME OF GOOD POETRY BE INSPIRED; IN THE NAME OF THE LORD BE BLESSED. O AMOHETSOE KOANO SEKHUTLOANENG SA KOKOANA-HLOKO EA MANTSOE.HAPPY NEW YEAR.

MY INSPIRATION

MANY a time I am confronted by an interesting question from those who admire my work as to what my inspiration is. For all the different answers that I ever gave to whoever had asked, my answer entailed referring to someone as my inspiration, be it a poet, hip hop artist or an ordinary individual. Whatever answer I gave was only half of what inspires me.
I am inspired by the mere fact that my breathing today is not a coincidence but rather a choice God made for me. In one of my most recent poems entitled Time the introductory line says “the hands of time never travel the same path twice, hence death keeps reminding us every time it strikes”. What the line communicates to me is that every second of every minute needs to be utilized wisely and appropriately.
Secondly I am inspired by the fact that I have come very close and escaped the greedy gates of death, when I was attacked and tortured by a mysterious illness in 2005 and early last year when I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and chronic curable disease of the pericardium (TB PERICARDITIS/TB EA PELO). You may be asking yourself where and how do I draw inspiration from those unfortunate moments of my life, but fact is; I have come to realize and acknowledge that no matter how young, how talented, how obedient or how active you are, anything that might claim your life can happen any time and since I have no control over what may happen to me I fully exercise my authority over what I can do with my time, talent and hence life.
Thirdly seeing people break the walls of impossibilities with their metallic fists of courage instills and inculcates in my mind courage, persistence and determination which all boil up together into hot steam of inspiration. I have known and met wordsmith and writers like Core Wreckah , Mr Leseli Mokhele, Peter Mahase and Mpho Sefali () to name but a few, who have woven their bed sheets from nonexistent fabrics. Through their courage and determination they have wisely utilized their time (and finances) to bring growth into the entertainment and arts sphere of the Mountain Kingdom.
Lastly the people, who from their precious time give me a few minutes of their time to listen to what my poetry has to say, inspire me to continue doing what I do. A great deal of my inspiration I gather from my mother, who I can proudly describe as a powerful and optimistic mother. All the ladies in my life, be it friends, collegues, and business partner, you inspire me.
Allow me to clothe everyone who has and continues to inspire me with warm but cool blankets of gratitude; Lyrical Bacteria is what he is because of you. Poetry is my life, me and poetry are inseparable and hence I thank you for making my life wonderful.

SHEILA PUBLISHES ANTHOLOGY

I WOULD LIKE TO CONGRATULATE a colleague of mine, Sheila Khala who has successfully published and launched her first anthology entitled; FORMULA. The book is a dedication to her late father (May his soul rest in peace). When you read through the book you find poems that show steps of healing and I think Sheila has made her poetry work for her in this way. Last time I heard, the book costs M115. BUY, DON’T PHOTOCOPY! TO READ SHEILA'S POETS BLOG INTERVIEW PLEASE VISIT: www.poetryfarm.blogspot.com

POETS PARADISE MALE POETS PROJECT

I would humbly like to invite all male poets to participate in the second Poets Paradise Male Poets Project which runs in the Weekly Mail Newspaper. The project is about male poets publicly castigating some of the socially challenging issues which are perpetrated by other men (and women). Next year's theme is CHILD MOLESTATION. Poets can write about this topic from any angle so long as they stick to the point. If you want to participate please contact me on +266 6337 3926. Deadline for submissions is 01/02/2010. thank you
YOURS TRULY
LYRICAL BACTERIA

DROUGHT STRICKEN CAPTAIN

THE DROUGHT -STRICKEN CAPTAIN
BY LYRICAL BACTERIA
(Sechaba Keketsi)
THIS POEM WAS PUBLISHED UNDER THE WEEKLY MAIL POETS PARADISE MALE POETS PROJECT EARLY 2009.

Their plane was ready for departure
To lick and caress the smooth runaway
The runway woven from spontaneous agreements
The husband the captain, the wife the assistant
They repelled their plane from the ground
Long in the air, like airborne pollutants
The plane’s nose no longer moved horizontally
Dressed with a calm mind, fed by an organized conscience
The assistant attempted to neutralize his acidity
But was constantly reminded who the captain was


Her nose was whipped with smell of rotten communication
Yet dressed with a calm mind, plane had to be back in order
Repeatedly kissed by salty lips of poor translating skills
The captain set ablaze the handouts of advice
Inhaled the flames, then boosted his fits
For in his boardroom, suggestions and objections
Translated to an insult to his integrity
Good thing English wasn't his major at varsity


His fists consumed her face repeatedly
Sucked blood from the eyes, tears from the nose
Yet her face carried no bruises or scars
He smoked the cigarette of triumph
As the blood sucked collected into a well
Evaporated into air her lungs refused to process


The veins of his brutal mentality enlarged
The skin of his gun grew greedier
Lethally injected the breasts of her personality
That once fed his best interests
That once strengthened the bones of his self esteem
His non-metallic gun raped her positivity
For his bullets were words
Nothing destroys as angry, brutal words!


Yet still the plane had to be back in order
He continued caressing the thighs of failure
As cockpit buttons fueled sparks of confusion
Traffic controllers bellowed this and that
What success was guaranteed?
He was deafened by the wall of his stubbornness


Filled to capacity with trash he exhaled
Fingers of her pain transformed to a lion’s teeth
Chewed the safety belts of “till death do us part”
Two steps back, out of the cockpit
Escorted by the parachute of acceptance
Poor woman headed for safety
For she realized and accepted
The punch of bitter words sends you into a coma
Paralyze your inner being, inner beauty
Nothing destroys as angry, brutal words!


An onlooker couldn't help but ask,
Who the hell taught this captain how to fly?
Couldn’t help but wish sunshine upon darkness he breathed
And said, let the captain splash into the ocean
The sharks bite him not with their tooth
But with the sharp blunt truth
That he be no different from a rapist
That no problem is solved by a problem
Or else the solution will be as useless, pointless
As abusing a woman!

©Sechaba Keketsi