I lock all the pores that can
Release words from this soul.
This soul called me,
A lot that was swarmed out:
Meagre or nothing at all
That embraced the meant ears:
Receipts of moments
The left hand’s dream-solely
Greased rocks
No matter how the rains fall.
They cannot scrub off the muck.
So it is in life
And so it is with hearts.
We cannot change these things.
I have told and spat.
I have run dry.
Dear, I am liberal.
My slides don’t want to release
Any content that will cross
The roads surfing for
What it has got no control over.
My slides, I tried to release something:
But they stood still.
I am drained.
Nothing much to tell.
Copyright © 2015 by Ponatshegelo Mista Poke Katlholo
All
Rights Reserved
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