We. All. Deserve. Love.

Seventy-five minutes. Sourced with hope to open the book for the bored, the boring, and the basic – who have more boring to bake with rather than be bothered…

Sourced to shed Light on the lady; on the value behind the lens; the authenticity of the artist, and the profundity that informs her philanthropy; how that red-letter can – by the combination of both her conscious realisations and her recognition – start something that can raise what appears to be so ruined.


But so many conclusion-jump.

They don’t know much about the muchness – which is annoying on any topic when the confidence at which they will loudmouth their latherings is numbing. My friend Larissa says that it is because she’s such a controversial figure, and that “…most people never actually open the book.”

Each of us is our own.


And many will go unopened.

Many will misplace the masterpiece that stands within.

Most of us will shamelessly edit our own… masking it to march like a number with the masses in mediocrity.

Where is your masterpiece buried?

Where is your maxim to be authentic, defending your truth against the delinquent war of devotion that collects to derail it?

And by the way, where does their dire, darkness’s need come from anyway? What is this idle undertaking to upset?

The alternative is so much more accessible, right? And so much more attractive for all assembled here – wherever your here is…

Maybe your here is here, headed towards holding the hands and hearts of 7 billion others.


But keep a lookout.

There are always going to be those who don’t want Love to have the last word.


They live here too.


Sewn up for the senseless salutations that waste rather than recognise:


So deserve it.

Defend it.

And then deal it out…

The authentic generosity of your genius, your goods, your goodness, your gifts…

And there you will see that beauty’s where you find it, and that no matter what: brutal simplicity cannot survive in sin.


Let’s conversate.

But … behold! If you enter the bullfight – best you be in your Maletilla.

Between now and then, I promise to myself, to amplify my advancing as I age, always, and never abate or be abated again.

I am an artist. I am authentic.


I hope you live yours too.

GIMEL | Part 3  

BET | Part 2  

ALEPH | Part 1


© Dylan Balkind

White Supremacy

No bait. So much hate. I never got to ask you about your suffocating spate.
Neck brace. Hot face. The ambulance ride told me I’d lost the race.
I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?

I don’t get stuck doing it often … until I see things like this.

Fourteen years ago, I watched a poet stand under a spotlight, her lips big and her head shaved – she was beautiful and brittle and she wanted answers from her people. She purred: “Give a white man a gun… and he shoots a black man. Give a black man a gun… and he shoots a black man.”

The quiet that followed boomed discernible discomfort. Everybody was embarrassed to be the colour they were for the words she wove were wild.

What is wrong with us?
Why so much chaos?
Karma’s due to hit soon with the full-speed force of a brakeless bus.

So much hate
strangling Light in its gait
Do you see an end in sight to the frenzy of this spate?

I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?

I don’t get stuck doing it often … until I see things like this.

Screen Shot 2013-10-05 at 7.43.52 PM

Who are you? Privileged white man, son and brother –
to decide that you can and should do this to another?
I want you to have to sit and watch this with your mother,
and the father of your future fiancé and her little brother.

Your drugs are broken
love is just a token
of something you haven’t yet known, lived, felt or even spoken.
You need to start to see
that the repercussions of actions are three –
and that not yet knowing yourself is just an empty roar unspoken melee.

I insist I bring poise albeit anger to this podium,
though nervous I swear this voice I stall could fill a stadium.
It’s when you go outside of being inside your callous thoughtlessness,
that you free yourself from that terminal consortium carelessness.

No bait. So much hate.
Your drugs are broken and your love’s just a token…
I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?


© Dylan Balkind


It doesn’t matter how long ago it happened or when it stopped, being affected by people who thought it was okay to push you into lockers, throw your school bag down three stories, call you things that you didn’t even know yourself were true… Well, that stuff sticks. It hangs around like sulphuric air because… well… that’s just how psychology works.

There are countless stories of people who haven’t won against the dark. It’s big and it can be debilitating. Being brave is something people close to you tell you to do with a back slap or a rushed hug but, if they haven’t had to pass a bully on a cold corridor and felt the fear of fright chill down their spine, then it’s not really something they’re ever going to understand.

Sometimes you wish you could do some disappearing because sometimes the shadow wins. But you are not alone…

“You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug…”

© Dylan Balkind

Every soul’s one religion


The triangle of the Foundation, Intelligence and Wisdom lives deep inside us.

It is not animal nor is it mineral – but it is the glittering compass of life.

One day, after many chum-pal back pats, calls, walls and flown-off-handles, the chorus of exhaustion was multiplied in the skies again to where enough was just enough. The Cipralex / detox / retox / Xanor treadmill was exhausting and no longer a welcomed cilice.

Close lines were blurred and yet again you went from zero to manipulation and emotional abuse in a nanosecond. Your back peddling spoke loudly of your ludicrous laments, petulant and petty in that psychological warfare – yet always immature, unprofessional and embarrassing still.

The triangle of Yesod, Binah and Chokmah lives deep inside us.

It is not animal nor is it mineral – but it is the glittering compass of life.

The silence was ridiculous and retarded. But – like a suited-up superhero – I’ve climbed from where you lead the chorus with the echo of the farewell-call that I made because that Cipralex / detox / retox / Xanor treadmill was chiselling and I no longer wish to welcome that cilice.

Every soul on the planet is unified by one religion – to dream.

Don’t let anyone ever take that away from you.


© Dylan Balkind

An ingrown life

When last were your feelings hurt by someone that wouldn’t normally consider you, but who then went out of his or her way to say something awful and uncalled for, just to make you feel bad about yourself? Years ago? Recently? It’s always surprising to me how often it happens and how ready the human race is to take down one of their own.

We are a nasty lot, aren’t we?

I like to tease. I like to say things that provoke mirth because they tug at stereotypes and state the obvious. People giggle, enjoy the forum and even throw back some of their own banter. This is a dialogue I believe to be very necessary between friends of different backgrounds in a claustrophobic South Africa. Isn’t it a fine time to laugh at ourselves? It’s harmless… but… there is always a darker side. For example, I would never stand on the side of the street and yell faggot, nigger, moffie, kaffir, cunt, fatso, kike, fudge-packer, douchebag, spic or slut bucket to an absolute stranger walking the other way, yet, I can personally assure you, there are many who are of the opinion that this behaviour is perfectly acceptable.

Harassment, bullying, slander or defamation of character – call it what you want. The problem with this legalese is that it doesn’t resonate where this behaviour begins: among pre-teen insolents who haven’t been taught any better by the people who took responsibility for shaping their lives. Victims are taught little rhymes about sticks and stones but with no real help or a true behaviour-change, they grow lonelier in the darkness of isolation.

I have my own story. One that is unique to me but just like a million others all over the world.

I wasn’t the only one who grew up this way.

There are many who seek some form of therapy to “just get over it”.

This is such a personal journey that people take, seeking their own ways of finding the light. It is an outpouring of your feelings into something constructive for you that sets the wheels of healing in motion. Catharsis isn’t on a schedule but when it arrives, it is a lightening-bolt force of nature. The dialogue you have in this process is with yourself. You are the crier, the listener, the sad and the psychologist. You are the hurt and the discipline, the broken-hearted and the healing.

When you take seven minutes to watch the video below, may you see the most profound art created from such hollow-hurting that I have ever seen.

If you cry, I hope it helped. If you don’t understand it, I hope that one day you will.

Read the full poem here.

© Dylan Balkind

Can viral marketing beat the bullies?

Would you think it ok if boys threw your pencil box from the third floor balcony at school or pushed your head into a locker? Would it be ok if you were hospitalised from a beating based on your sexual orientation? Probably not. But there are horrible, angry people out there and bad things happen to good people.

So? What makes an ok day for you?

What makes an ok day for Casey Heynes is not being beaten up or duct taped to a pole. Who is Casey Heynes? Right now he is the hero of every underdog ever pushed, beaten, ridiculed or taunted. He is the Australian schoolboy who fought back at the cowardly runt who picked on him one time too many.


Because the set-up was malicious from the start, the altercation was filmed (with a different outcome expected no doubt). The video has since gone viral and can be found on YouTube, embedded within online news reports from around the world and featured in interviews with Casey Heynes himself. Here the power of viral marketing is obvious and while teachers and bullies alike are backtracking and preaching innocence and shock, the fact is, it took the explosion of this issue in this boy’s life for the bigger picture to be seen – by a MUCH bigger audience.

It has been shown that when one person has an impactful online experience, he or she will tell 12 more people. This is the dynamic that powers viral marketing. This is the dynamic that makes for fast-track superstars like Lily Allen and Justin Bieber. In this case, it is the dynamic that brought this young man some help – from around the world.

It’s staggering to read worldwide statistics on bullying and the connection between bullying, being bullied and suicide in children and teenagers (according to a new review of studies from 13 countries by the Yale School of Medicine). How this happens is beyond me. We all come from something so beautiful. Still, because of this disease, organisations like the Give a Damn Campaign and the Trevor Project have been formed – with every superstar and figurehead known (including Barack Obama) getting behind them. The message to bullied, lost or suicidal kids out there? It Gets Better.

Singers like P!NK and Taylor Swift (to name just a few) are using their medium to wage war on bullies and celebrate the beauty in being different. So if you’re too school for cool, and you’re treated like a fool, you could choose to let it go… or you can go viral. It’s your channel to use. The world is online. The world is listening.

So now? What makes an ok day for you?

If there is somene out there to whom you now feel you have something to say, get in touch.

It will make your day more than ok.

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