Porcelain King

Draw me a line of purest powdery white,
Cut it in two with a shiny razor blade,

I will ingest confidence and pleasure,
And numb my gums against pain,

For I am the porcelain king,
With a runny nose.

Lost like a sheep

They came and they went away
Sidely shifted we are to the wrong & misleading direction
Intentions fulfilled, mission accomplished.
They left us brainwashed.
And in our minds deeply rooted is an installation of our culture
As a curse and theirs as a blessing.
They fed us upon the shadow of perfection
They fed us with their fresh milk.
Unintelligible consciousness of bewitchment
Infection of disease incurable was an attachment to our lives
Their milk was full of fragments of foreign protocols
Which we had to acquire to fit into the world they created for us
As a result my black sister started to forget her root of origin,
My black brother started to use englished swearing terms on his parents,
People from my ghetto started 2 equalize themselves with GOD,
To decide whether certain beings should or should not live,
They’d even kill just to get into foreigner's yard for fresh milk.

They came and hypnotize us; they went away & left us unhypnotized.
Brought upon our brains are mischief, ill-treatment, and bewilderment.
Today my black husband rapes his one year old daughter in exchange
Of what so-called pure blood to cure his impure blood.
Today my black son commits a crime against me his biological mother
So as to equalize his rank with theirs.
Today my black sister is starting prostitution businesses to earn silver & gold.
For she was deceived and told that silver and gold makes man.
That is why my black daughters get laid to fall pregnant and bear children
So that the government will give them a child grant for they were deceived
And told that silver and gold makes man
Today my educated black brother no longer greets me in Tshivenda
For he has learnt that his mother tongue is of inconsequential or not of use.

Lost like a sheep

They came and they went away
sidely shifted we are to the wrong & misleading direction
Intentions were fulfiled, mission accomplished.
They left us brainwashed.
They fed us upon the shadow of perfection
They fed us with their freshmilk.
Unintelligible consciousness of bewitchment
Infection of disease incurable was an attachment in our lives
Their milk was full of fragments of foreign protocols
Which we had to acquire to fit into the world they created for us
As a result my black sister started to forget her root of origin,
my black brother started to use englishied swearing terms on his parents,
poeple from my ghetto started 2 equalize themselves with GOD,
to decide whether certain beings should or should not live,
they'd even kill just to get into foreigner's yard for freshmilk.

They came and hipnotize us, they went away & left us unhipnotised.
Brought upon our brains is mischief, ill-treatment, and bewilderment.
Today my black husband rapes his one year old daughter in exchange
of what so-called pure blood to cure his impure blood.
Today my black son commits a crime against me his biological mother
so as to equalise his rank with theirs.
Today my black sister is starting a prostitution businesses to earn silver & gold.
For she was deceived and told that silver and gold makes  man.
That is why my black daughters get laid to fall pregnant and bear chlildren
so that the government will give them a childgrant for they were deceived
and told that silver and gold makes man
Today my educated black brother no longer greets me in Tshivenda
For he has learnt that his mother tongue is inconsequential or not of use.

Heritage (inheritance)

Ditso tsa bo rona
One which we inherited
From our ancestors
Badimo ba bo rona

My heritage blood
Flows through my vein
That's my culture
My inheritance

Motsi mongwe I look at
Marope a borremogolo
And I thought tsothle tse
Di tswa teng mmung

Ke ne ke le ngwana
The time I inherited
The roots of my father
From the genes of my mother

Ke tsaya culture, tradition, moral values
Tsa bagolo ba me
Superstitions tse ba di tshepang
Is the way we are
My inheritance, di heritage tsa ka

proudly a khoi-khoi

African I am,
Not because I can
No! Evil man of war
I was born as an African
I’m not bragging about it
No! Evil man of war
I’m proud of it.
I look, walk, eat, live and talk like any African should
So, if you are killing Africans
Kill me too!

If you are chasing them away
Far off from South Africa, their mother land Africa
Because of greediness
Chase me away too.
If you call them kwiri-kwiri
Hello! Who am I?
I’m a khoi-khoi
And I’m proud of it

Do you know what khoi-khoi means?
No! I thought as much
All you know is the false statement that you are, Zulu’s, Tswana, and Venda Xhosa
But what does Xhosa mean? I don’t know
I thought as much
But I know what khoi-khoi means
It means men of men
Doesn’t your bible tells you about God as the men
Adam the first men on Eden

So I am khoi-khoi or you’d rather call me kwiri-kwiri
I don’t care I’m proud of it
Kill me for all to see
That you are really a dumbness fool
You’ve been robbed your roots
You’ve been falsely led
And you are still following a road leading to wilderness
Funny enough you are bragging about living me behind
But if you define your life by silver and gold
Then I’m better off behind
I don’t mind
I still have the African mind
I’m saying this out loud
Butcher me too you evil monster
Blinded by material that came along with foreign intruders
Who claim to have discovered silver and gold?
But my African God, the one I’m rooted to
Will stand tall for my soul
Not to be tempted again.
African God will re-fill the spirit of the mighty khoi-khoi
I’m sorry but you will still be in the dark
When that day come because you are waiting for the savior
Who will come from the west?
As the bible teaches you about Christ.
How many saviors we had in Africa?
Because it is not in the streak of pen and paper
You think that God was white?

I’m an African,
And that is not a statement to grab your attention
Or to charm white confused chicks
Or to remind people of Africa during the days apartheid
No! I’m an African
And I’m proud of it.
So if you are in a mission of killing Africans
Slaughter me too
For all it is safe to say
Till today
I still hold my hand up, the one that is close to my heart
And announce it with my lips
Kill me too if you kill Africans

You are ashamed even at looking me
Proudly chanting, wearing African clothes
Chewing African food
You seem embarrassed even when I speak my tongue in public
Guilty conscience is haunting you
Not me, I’m just reminding you
About the African soil
But the foreign intruders have blinded your vision
You are on the same mission
You are chasing and killing Africans
Abusing them, we will see
How many really will you succeed to kill?
But if me,
My heart still pumps the blood then your job is incomplete

Soul Solution

Speckled blindness upon oneself
Resilient child echoed in vain
Innocence a myth
Hellish South Africa the thief

Babies born as tickets
To welfare mothers fulfil claimed
Loveless existence
Streets become only companion

Commissioned corruption The Government reliant
Protected by fears of past
Hollow bellies create
Hunger has NO colour

Tears cry empathy
Attentive dreams ignored
Fat politicians remain fed
In black convoys travel

Embarrassing voices muffled from international eyes  
Never to tell the truth
Avoidance expected and received
Poverty experienced soon forgotten

Relentless denial of diseased death
Population growth of the dieing  
Communist child molested and raped
The communist hand prevents the screams  

Alone the child
Tears unseen
Love a myth, truth a reality  
Mothers and fathers without responsibility    

Apocolypse

The ringing clear of libertine bells
is deafening to one so young
so weak as I
Calling me to join the mocking dance
of our generation's patent
hope-lost orgy
of rolling hips and swelling bellies
and anti-retroviral pills
that are the norm
today, now that men have lost their minds
to godless hero-blacks now gone
but for their words
which keep them in awful denial.
A foolish fairy-tale to dream
of renaissance
when all around us the killing fields
are piling sky-high with aborted
African Hope.
And still the voice of my proud people
rises higher than the mourners cries,
and the angel choir
and the earth itself
and the still small voice of the Spirit.

They call to me:
"Come play while playing's here,
white child.
You see there's no tomorrow for you here,
so live today".  

feet in Africa

my eyes see the land
my feet feel the earth
my spirit speaks to the winds

place of life
place of hope
place of miracles

land of change
land of freedom
land of my people

i am a woman
i am a white woman
i am an African woman
i am a woman of Africa

i gaze in awe
at this place
at this land
who i am
i am this place

this, is my land
this, is my people
this, is my place

my Africa