Second semeester Tests Dates

PHLT- 27 August 2011
PHLT-17 September 2011
PHLT- STILL OPEN FOR SUGGESTION




PHCE-17 AUGUST 2011
PHCE-27 SEPTEMBER 2011


PCOL-06 SEPTEMBER 2011
PCOL-23 AUGUST 2011
PCOL- STILL OPEN FOR SUGGESTION



PHCH-12 SEPTEMBER 2011
PHCH-STILL OPEN FOR SUGGESTION



PPRA-31 AUGUST 2011
PPRA- STILL OPEN FOR SUGGESTION



THANK YOU MATES AND ANY IDEAS TO HELP WITH SCHEDULING THE REST OF THE TESTS WOULD BE VERY APPRECIATED

KEEP CHECKING MAKHEMA.BLOGSPOT.COM

N.B PCOL TEST 2 IS ON TUESDAY AT 08HOO

The Living years

To be sick and helpless to thoughts of years counting down on a symptom or how the realisation of the shortness of life is can be depressing. You give up yourself and the only control you aspire to is a positive attitude. When you go to bed wheeled into those cold linens with nails to your coffin carried heavy in your heart it is a painful reminder of how serious things have become.You dream of being a boy again,young and innocent, free from the scourges of this earth. You lie in bed and listen to the outside world. You turn and the only change you feel is your bowel movement reminding you how much you haven't eaten.They come and visit you to confirm how worse you have gone and they still have the audacity for a ceremony as if the verdict has been handed down from God himself(you did this to yourself).They say goodbye and leave you a farm of fruits and give you their last stare. by now you have become conscious of time,the endless pills you swallow at the bitter end of the feeling of death.Somedays are better and you can make it to the doorstep and busk in the sun as you count breaths for opportunities missed with whatever it is you might have called your lifetime. the shame,blame are all the same and you will forever be tame as the stigma fires up like a flame that bears your name for a society that needs to be more sane on the pain they do to others.

Joburg

The jazz blue sounds of Joburg in the sunny Saturday morning and the small patch of clouds against it all but time when you pass the steel poles with your face tuning to it all that this city is ,you can only look forward. You pass short left and the only thing in your heart is how this weekend will be any different. The music is the same, a kid at the corner street and some old man trying to push his miseries in his bloody dusty blanket in a trolley he can call his own. The rush madness of time in here means everything, taxis at a thought and stopping one at a doubt. You look to the left and it’s gone……you look to the right again you only realize that we all trying to fit in. You stop for a cold one and the night gets young with the second one. The women in here are economic; pull your wallet for a bullet if they have to. The night turns grey with the touch of good old days memories, yesterday gone with the wind and the life you lead adapts today.

ECON

Before the world cup we held our hearts and pleaded that public servants shouldn’t strike. And now that the stadiums are “white elephants” as we all get back to our routines (no football Friday) we suddenly found ourselves with all this dilemmas we couldn’t face before the world cup.

It’s the media and the ANC never ending media tribunal………………I don’t know if its short memories but isn’t that how the scorpions were “disbanded”, they create a hype about a certain political objectives and right under our noses when we think the storm is over they strike. Service delivery to people shouldn’t be like a fashion week where political parties dress in patriotism and attractive colors of promises to only get our votes.

Revenue wants to collect but government doesn’t want to give you more-where is the economic logic to equate the proportions there?

We Being What We are…..

The sense of urgency within the voice of revolution in pages that age with prospects of our own bearings and visions to become the better people we strive to be. We live so much of our life with no identity of our own; we camouflage our thoughts to blend away from the suggestive individuality we are. Our ability to survive is the suitable notion of struggle and adaptation.

To some faith is the receptive gesture of comfort to what an addict would only call random ease in time. You’ll hope when least exist and transit to persist amidst strangers. Along we try our best and chest among us the spirit of communal strength.

Why do we live? Is there any way in our lives to reason our efforts with the time spent doing what we do every day to survive? We all grow up with goals and dreams, I want to be this and that, but time only tells us otherwise. As a little kid excited with almost anything life seem huge from every angle not just the bicycle or the toy soldier they got you one Christmas your parents got excited over a bottle of wine one night. They say kids are the most innocent people, I say their innocence is not short of any curiosity that we all seem to lose with age to become only ignorant. No matter how tall we get for our pants, one thing only takes us down to that bundle of joy and the glow energy in those globe eyes, that one day it all began. Yes, you know what I am talking about. The day you first went to school, kiss you first girl, or for most of us just do anything without anybody’s consent. We all kind stupid on that first day though. I mean how many of us ate their lunch boxes at home the first week when they started primary school or stay in their offices on first job to pretend they are preoccupied to avoid that bond. The lesson here is not to cave in back into our little holes and grow our faces hairy, no; no it is a humane symbol of adaptation. We are the greatest being to defy time and the odds and still live to tell. That is just profound.

Talking about lessons, they are learnt every time when we think we are on our best guard of cautions and conscious acts, somehow mistakes feels like GPS guidance when the storm is over and you have found the correct route. Something you don’t find when you try to be a perfectionist at heart and manifestations that undermine the true nature of learning.

Turning...

The meaning of it all and the random events in the eventuality, how often to embrace the spark of warmth that in each day we all can be able to wake up to with just you in my face. Knowing that it all begins with the simple samples and temples of transition we await the coming of age with anticipation. Good exist with evil, darkness amongst shades when we disappear for comfort, all too well for natural order.

Peace? Peace is when you sleep your thoughts so deep that the only dream you cherish is the free breath of solace within the space of empty existence. Dying so much hard being habitual orientations of our lives we strive on with technicality- my courage my own age.

Go on!!!

To the each blade of grass, the fallen leaves of history on your page, to the sun spark of energy that moves the wind beneath the alteration of the birds and skies that roam blue with your heartbeat and thoughts. Your soul in time with the true sedation of clarity and tranquil prospects of submission to what you can take with seconds. Sometimes going on is the only wage of being you can become in seeing where your feet take you; you travel within the sense of order to ease out the age and the memories. Faces take you to spaces and taxis to a journey of paces; all you have to do is go on.