South Africa

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This war we intend to fight,  you see not the downcast caused by it? With screeching throats and bellowing weapons,  women and children no longer weep cobalt oceans but a flood of crimson instead.   
From the Boiling Point In the Glory of Morning Faced with a Stairway to Heaven We Travel with Gulliver In Overland Trucks None shall be caught in Hades’ Toilet Bowl For we feed on manna
My words tend to be abrasive sometimes abusive. They are painful and will wear you down it’s like sandpaper versus toilet paper
When Afrika is seen not heard All mothers mewl for they are so With Afrika portrayed absurd A father’s place is soon let go   While Afrika by fools is tamed That brother hunts for joy with lead
I have orated to the lay about the dangers of AIDS & how every books page brings you a step closer to getting paid   I have recited to the rich about a large poverty ditch
I make music for talk radio Sounds which bring a sting You better get strapped in this is strictly poetry You’ll find no sixteen bar forms or punch line platforms and I’m still the illest poet
Six feet under, never known. A memoir of a kingdom, that will never get their land. They will never understand, this very feeling that we have because our root gave birth again,
for our past is a poem, murdered by the hand, of death, and our worth, diminished. Our hearts were wild, and free. Royalty! portrayed as a mere, fluke; death to them, they shunted; Pain.
:tell me who we are! and what the future holds for us. why the skin we wear, is gold. But through the decades we were sold. Our tales not told and hearts from bold, to weak. BEHOLD!
Some has it easier than others, Some has it not, Some were raised by their mothers, and some their own hath forgot.
How can You just spectate this shameful game?Sit back and watch Your creation go down the drainAs they pass the torch of Hell’s burning flameIs this somehow my fault? Or, who’s to blame? You’ve let this game go on too long
Who’s that knocking at the door?Ug! I don’t want to deal with him anymore!I thought I was done with him – the past is in the pastBut he keeps lingering and his stench continues to last
I should not be bitter I should not be green I do not even know my fate  But I see you around the globe I see you. I see your charmed life I see your opportunities I see
The struggle
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