Stillborn (for Joey)

Oh! Wait for me my little one

beside those heavenly gates

your mother’s womb your only home

such was your blessed fate

in death you found a wondrous birth

entering heaven’s sacred halls

where angels keep you safe and warm

to that dimension born

not to know the pains of life

or mankind fallen – flawed

now swaddled only in peace and love

in all its purest form

nor feeling loss so brutal cruel

Your heart in two is torn

So wait for me my little one

beside those heavenly gates

where this wounded soul once more

can pull you to his chest

united again forever more

in your eternal rest…


M.C. Bolton, November 1, 2016




An Un-Zulu Nation

In respect of the natural path of truth and also empathy, we felt it necessary and an honour to speak with an ex-Zulu Nation member, to set the record straight, hoping to inform the world of how one man suffered out of a perverted salacity going on behind closed doors during the preliminary days of the Zulu Nation.


The Kinky In The Chain

When you hear the power in the word Zulu, you’re taken back to thoughts of the 70s movie Zulu Dawn. You think of group strength, greatness, unity, trial and victory among a tribe overcoming conflicts together as one unit. These appear to be some of the fundamentals that made the Battle of Isandlwana (1879), which the movie was based on, impossible for the British to win against the united Zulus.

Fast forward a hundred years and change, to the 80s. African Americans and their displaced counterparts around the world re-discovered and then embraced the word again; only this time as a nation with, instead of a physical battle going on, a psychological war in their midst. They combine music, rap, graffiti and dance culture together like links on a chain to a proud past. This came as a salvation to a people that had long been politically and strategically dismantled.

The new and fresh Zulu Nation was full of soul and hope, having all the potential and elements within to resurrect those ancestral spirits. It should have been as easy as A , B , C, but there was a warp in the design – a kink in the chain.

It was formed by Afrika Bambaataa, aka Kevin Donovan, aka Lance Taylor, becoming the so-called father of The Zulu Nation and Hip Hop in a sense; yet he and his associates managed to keep the fact that he was covertly homosexual, with a fetish for young boys, under their hats. This eventually became the straw that broke the camel’s back.


Afrika Bambaataa, The Zulu Nation

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