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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required To this day, the breath labours on still Marrow birthing blood same as ever to keep this battered carriage oiled The soul wills the flesh to hobble on and prays the spirit keeps aflame The game remains the same to this day some will insist I'm starting to think this game has been rigged from the start The stakes are now twice as high as well It's the same wilderness out there I've been told Prey and predator still run tail to tail In the ever rotating carousel of survival The pre destined Russian roulette entanglement with fate as ancient as sin itself Its simply fuelled by our primal desire to catch a glimpse of the sun God Ra just one more time as he rides the break of dawn to shower the world with his unconditional love once again I never truly learnt how to navigate this new world I chose I must admit Back in the day my brown hands were good enough to earn me safe passage They always afforded me a seat somewhere at the back of the race Fed the taxman his cut and hauled home the remaining bacon No one seemed to care about the hue of my hide in those times even though I was all but my hide back then the coil to my kinky fur or the twist of my native tongue in speech, never raised an eyebrow in neither query nor alarm then Not when it came to getting the job done My skill paired up with my transcript burst the doors of what I mistook for opportunity wide open in plain sight and paid lobola on my behalf like I was a bride of high worth My delivery didn't disappoint either In fact it bore but a few flaws over the years if memory serves right Flew higher than average expectation even some might say Everyone knew Africans were assets in those times of desperate need They just wouldn't admit it in the light of day So I played by the rules and earned my keep along with my kinsmen Upholding the statures of our African upbringing, thankful for every tiny morsel, even the one tainted by ill will and spiced up with insult It all served to support my path back then, so I kept my head down and forged ahead I wasn't bothered about anything else, never been my nature to rouse a cackle from its slumber I kept my focus on chasing my dreams much like everyone else did really I never quite learnt the art of greasing palms in the process Never even picked up the skill to plump my lips up into the the perfect pucker the better to adorn a posterior of superiority allusions with a kiss, should need ever arise That oversight was the making of my downfall in my sight But my son attributes it to questionable boundaries on both sides or something along those lines I feel that's just fancy talk and a pile of bull if you will Smoke screens and mirrors is all I see It's all very superficial and fickle what's on offer nowadays The packaging is pretty and the delivery comes in melodious, reassuring and alluring words But the actions that follow those words always speak of a different tale Its a tale fraught with impending doom, deceit and just a smidgen of ignorance A far cry from the world I was bred in Harsh as it was, what you saw was what you got No beating about the bush over there Though that could have easily been on account of the predators prowling the bushes freely The predators over here prefer disguise and a spin on the truth It was a multi cultural world too by the way So that can't even be used as a valid excuse anymore Maybe I found the common sense and simplicity over there easier to navigate Intellect and so called being woke in this brave new world is fake in my view It all breeds a false, shallow yet inflated sense of self for the most part I'll take good old salt of the earth any given day Something real and tangible to hold onto is what I always stick with Pure manna to all ancient souls at large But then again what do I know I'm nowt but a termite accustomed to burrowing the termite hills in Setatshe at leisure
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