Thursday, 16 April 2015

Business



They killed principles
Fell in love with silver
Silver over souls
Drained off love
Oppression of proletarians
Capitalists’ business
Each and every finger’s vibration
It’s all business

Pornography is business
Brimming pockets with the poor who chose to sell their souls and get laid for a penny
Exploitation of low income earners
Prostitution dressed with long skirts of commercial sex
Dirty commercial sex tags
It’s all business

Politics too is a business
The use of the seat for individual gain
They and their bold-lineages
Family and friends business
No one can get them out
UN declaration of human rights
It is also a business
Devastation of our black princely and queenly characters
Those walking with thighs
So they think they were empowered
Damn you so-called human rights activists
While a hunk of you have not walked across the aisle to encircle the fingers
You take our feeds to the pit
Little witches and wizards
It’s all business

Guns are a business
Hell unto he who brought it to being
A hunk of lives captured due to your breath and birth of your maker
It’s all business

They drive thighs to the bars and the clubs
They even do fail to bend
Enticement at play;
Holding empty purses
No bottle goes out for free
A fee for your soul
Sexual tools for methylated spirit
It’s all business

It’s all business
Promulgation of laws
Abrogation of our genesis
What I wished for
Who am I?
Who am I?

Dirty media
Mind polluting adverts;
Arresting your intelligence so as to reap you off
Public media like tubular media held by those with power or in power
Like the barrel of a gun
Movie industry is all business
When ladies in houses want to do like their actresses;
Man depicting their actors

Animalisation of soldiers and the police
Groomed to tussle for their master at the top
Treated like feather dusters through foolish commands
They contrive to do as told
“Just to keep food on the table,” so they tell
It’s all business

Naked girls on your favourite newspaper page or magazine
Your third or sixth page
When every man without conscience pages to it
Enticed for a while, wishing he could have a bite
Nude girls on movies and your favourite music video
All is money and business

Contractual, superstition, intelligence and sacrificial killings
Stalin, Lenin, Roosevelt, Churchill and Hitler‘s kids;
The teachings they received from their role models
 to run and ruin nations
You tell us not to worry for it’s all business


Child adoptions by some unwilling kinds
Disobedience to the threads and strings of creation
It’s all business

Those at the apex of the hierarchies
They mean business
When some ladies sell out through fragile beauty;
getting laid to get to the top of the hierarchy;
 struggle for power: as they tussle to ride on; bigger purse; a dream
It’s all business because of tags like, “everyone eats where he works”

Backdoor deals
Institutional examinations sold
That’s why we are having incompetent kinds in offices
Charity organisations mean business;
They sell our lost kids’ photos
To gain the so-called donations
Damn! To feed their pockets

Saboteurs and sabotage
I am damn tired
Prostitutes and business void of morals
Money in and with blood
Was I caught?
Pollution and decimation of souls
Petrification of good morals
Keeping quiet is a business
Talking is a bad practice
Calumny is a business
Vehement poems have no business

If we preach God in our houses and churches
The priest preaches a “don’t kill slogan at church”
Out they kill to protect their secrets;
Why don’t we damn practice it in our businesses?
Poetry is my damn business
Damn this is a business world

When judges do disobey rationality of law
Ratio decidendi died long time back
As they take a cheque to drown another threat they and their allies feel
 Even reality was killed by business
When some send their marriage partners below the soil so as to enjoy insurance benefits
When your big favourite supermarkets do fix prices so as to exploit you and leave you without choice; no substitute
So, it’s business

Poison to feed your paunches
So that later on you can sojourn to beg for pills;
And pay a hunk of bills
It’s business

Fong-kongs, broken lyrics that cannot teach yet they are bought
You know what I mean;
Your favourite dull rapper
As they kill the music
In return making millions with banal songs
Same rhythm and kindred lines
This is business
Damn I am tired

Gloomy aisles
Rot alleys
Look at the morgue man
I hear they buy some souls from the hospitals
Damn this is business
I do hear that this man when the business is not going well he can kneel down to the most high and say,
“Oh! Jah, kill one, kill one; kill one for me” 
“Oh! Jah, kill one, kill one; kill one, kill one for me” 
Hahaha! How funny

It is business
Their business
May be I shouldn’t mind
It is business
Poetry is the only business I know
Close to my soul
I will keep it
Damn! Damn! Damn!
This is a business world

Friday, 3 April 2015

Many of me


I am not a portion.
I am not a lingering hue.
Look at the rainbow.
Admire the makings of a tree.
Smile and grin to the small pieces
That cometh together to full bellies.
Don’t look at my right end;
Consider my left.

I am of portions:
It defines my breath.
My soul is not under trepidation.
I believe in expression-
Giving this plate every portion
Of me where it is desired.
Chances-opportunities; they drop by.
Chances, they take us.

Look at my hand; my feet and my skull:
Great links.
I have not chosen to cling to one portion.
I am deep into the ground:
And I am in abounds:
Brooks of life-I bow to sip from.
Many of me make me,
So I will never crumple.


Copyright © 2015 by Ponatshegelo Mista Poke Katlholo
All Rights Reserved

I don’t know



When you get stuck in the sands
That were dear to your soul.
When you find no spark or flame
To enlighten the dead coal.
When the sun goes forever:
When no raindrops are ready
To kiss the soils and give hope,
How does it feel?

Who loves the nakedness brought
By winter and spring’s bites?
You are bulky but all the routes
Are getting thinner and thinner.
How does one head to the dining room?
Are you putting your portions into the noose?
I love you
I don’t know…

Copyright © 2015 by Ponatshegelo Mista Poke Katlholo
All Rights Reserved

Raindrops



 These blows, are they falling from heaven?
They burn my cheeks without mercy:
I thought matters of the inner atom are glossy.
My sound captors have heard of haven:
I have been thinking that love is a caravan
But when raindrops fall, all becomes messy:
And it is when they take me on a hearse.
Oh! Why are you so craven?
Eroded cheeks possess no time to be found.
Your yellow skin was supposed to be my sun.
It is to your soul that I was bound.
But I at times wonder why time brought a gun.
Time has chosen to behave like a hound.
This one here is not a sweet bun.

Copyright © 2015 by Ponatshegelo Mista Poke Katlholo
All Rights Reserved