I am not alive to be approved by you
Neither am I here to be told to go there
The poems I write are not meant to please anybody
Your applause at the end of this poem
Would be an insult to your intelligence
And another collection of words drummed
Into your deaf ears and hardened minds
I am not brain washed by other people
Nor am I recycling the gossip of the dead.
My life is not made up of text and reference
What I say is a creation, an invention
I refuse to quote any other person but myself.
Since knowledge is dumped at institutions
And collected by hungry minds and recycled
I am not from the school of copiers, consumers
I have my brain positioned between my ears
And up till today, I have lived from the wisdom collected
In here, bred and brewed in my faculty of science, logic
I don’t rise for the sun to shine but reflect my energy
Against the blue that awaits me every day, all day.
My idea is not to impress but to depress you all
I don’t mind the thinking, the talking, the plotting
For this is my story and I decide what have to be said
I dictate the words that spear your comfort and greed
My idea is to instil anger, agitate, and influence change
Make the peasant rise from his ignorance and walk taller
Raise his voice and clinched his fist, for he has only one chance
To be alive and live well, for Kingdom is filled with fools
Shit happens only to those who don’t eat and drink
Those of you who are fed with lies and made to dance
In the heat for hours to come, for the heavens to open up
And drop wealth and security into your belles and dreams
Shit happens to those who just sit at dustbins of politics
Awaiting the gravy train to come back, to pick them
Out of these mess we are guarding with our lives and loyalty
Failures we harbour and still expect the soil to feed the lazy
Or cherish it with dear life or be branded a something of a something
New words picked up from the graveyards, dug from the pit latrines
Of world economies and leaders, world games of shoot and kill
Keep them hungry and starved then only will they listen, be toyed with
Leisure’s of the ones that have grown wings and fly like angles
Above all human hurt, pain, demise, their shit that we are guarding
Handing themselves membership cards of evangelical blindness
Honouring themselves with heavenly gifts and statuses, free passes
If ever there is a heaven, the politicians are the modern angles
Flying in motorcades and golden handshakes and ... shit let me stop
For this rot stinks of decaying lies and ever shifting promises, promises, promises
By: Keamogetsi joseph Molapong
