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Tebogo Hlako Poem
The pavements
The roots of the shallowed walked roads
Leafs drizzling on my spongy hair
Lungs of an old coupe coughing tiredness
The lights resting the sunset's image
Tar roads still a region away
Wind slowly concluding a whistle
Warmth of earth touching my womb
trees sketching a name of a village
tantrums hit the sky and i novel about a cloud
What about a city?
Where are we?
No wait..swallowed words of a crocodile skin, because i sure surely compared the texture of pain with tile. I was a gender of innocence, but i tell you, yes i tell you a monologue about in and out of sense!!!!
Landed far deep in the region
Lashing on the day's cave
Smiling beyond hallow
Something of a prayer
Loud leaped soil
Lonely stones leaching soil
Rivers bleeding salt in the tear of solid abilities
Rage raining out the side road that was once history
The city of no words
traveling the land of character
Reciting dialogues of spoken monologues
Rehearsing a soul for period of time.
I am a city of beauty. I am a city of seed. I am silent when I doubt my thought.
I am the Silent City.....
Copyright © Tebogo Hlako | Year Posted 2016
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Tebogo Hlako Poem
It once was..
The wooden square.
the
Kettle,and my stomach is breathing fire.
the table is boiling.
the home lives in the house.
the burning roof.sealed windows.
full of emptiness.Hello. sinking in the ship.
retrospective at the dust where wind demons aways.
- echos. Casino of cards.rats eating jokers.
Smell of abortion.laughter in the dead lungs of a mockers.death to a living worm.seal me a.plant.bone me memories. Closed eyes.wide awake vision.Holes fragile and thin.once upon a time.stories the tale in a heart.knifes pointing maps.fingers traveling.rage sketches red.portraits vocals movement .I wish upon hope.dueces.never an ending culture.youth the oldest would agree.scripts dotted images.just when I thought love had met me.I started to only know who you are. Scrummbled blood.the usless canvas of the king I died on.palms in the roots of legs. Wish upon a distance. Bowed head.bended thoughts,turned answers.angels taught me the feel of wingts,wish a devil was not the sealed heart .forgive the knife that hurts far better than steel.fountains of pink cells locked to it’s thickness..
It once was the beauty thy lips endured,but… I WAS A WOMAN IN THIS GIRL I GREW A LADY FROM WHOM I COULD'VE BEEN...
Copyright © Tebogo Hlako | Year Posted 2016
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Tebogo Hlako Poem
Skin of innocence
adultery in a garden of villages.
Where plants preach nature in pollution,
lovingly clashing colors
. coffins laid in mirrors.
My unveiling in my confidence, after life was the unknown.
that day I lost my breath.
lost my tongue.
I rained colors of metal, I stabbed myself in the bag
.Zip it all.
I was confused between two bridges,I looked south(down)on a verse tales of the worse signed a curse on.
I was of habits written in " sins but clean. Cohabitant"ed" heart beats an- examrooms.
Diaries in the membrane asks questions a lot of papers.
I thought I knew nature too.
Who was I going to be?
I am not Moses. I preach not, but allow me narration... I was a little brat. Perfecting my tools.
Sanding my imperfections in in a foundation of none existing brick.
Embracing a slummish home. Hugging on my soiled bricks.
Though i looked far uglier than a plot, I believe in a blank dream I was telling my story.
Mirrors couldn't term my existence.
....skin of innocence
Copyright © Tebogo Hlako | Year Posted 2017
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Tebogo Hlako Poem
canvas of paints
are shaped into my death. Yes where i really hold your hand and slunk my thoughts into the cavern mind i live in.
there , there , i graved it all. i bathed a clear face of salty water.
that , that , my meat got browner...
. started even i before ended it
shhh
it's the loud rain
i see through your pain
tearest soul of the oldest brain
i agree you will die in a gold chain
but
you know?
i don't neither..
.. i looked at a leg
and thought of a plot
but somehow i was a narrator
bitter, sweet i came and left
you know?
i do either
...i kissed a neck
and thought a bite is a blood clot
black ,white i vanished
but somehow i became a contrasting colour
you know?
i don't neeither..
i cried a mock
and thought of a gun i once never shot
pretty,ugly its petty theft
but somehow i was stil a daughter...
Copyright © Tebogo Hlako | Year Posted 2016
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