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Homeless Letters

Homeless Letters

Words conceived from a dead mouth that is framed with cracked lips.
Play a tune of peace on the strings of your ribs,
and wish your heart stops beating and the world becomes a Utopia.

Swallow your saliva before you read my hungry lips,
no hamlet or Othello escapes from a wrinkled tongue,
eating the frakles of your own silent mouth is mental poisoning.

Words choking life out of your every heartbeat,
until a silent corpse frozen
with silence begins to remember
the words that were swept
underneath the carpet of it’s skin.

Reality seen through shuttered
eyes that were hardened by
dry tears.

Have you ever seen a brain
hatching from its innocence,
forgetting love and dreams
then shelled with nightmares of
molestation, scales of abuse,
father hits mother with a fist,
the same one that was raised
to show black power?

Have you ever slept when you
had eaten water that was mixed with sugar?
Have you ever seen your
own childhood smashed into
bits, raised yourself to become
a man, meditated in order
for you to find a new
non-violent submissive identity?

We are children of wars,
our mothers’ pores were sweating bullets, our fathers’ tears only reflected explosions,
and then we were imprisoned in four cornered shacks where dreams and ambitions bounced off the metal walls and back into our heads.
School taught us the statistics of our poverty, but not the solutions.

if we were not children spat from bleeding thighs then maybe we would’ve learnt to smile,
but now our emotions are fake,
yellow emojis pasted on these faces,
our women layering foundations and plastering makeups just to hide bruises,
smiling yet they know that their teeth have been loosened by the fists they swallowed.

I see shivering hands when I greet, bleeding gums,
eyes filled with trails of sorrow, children born in prisons, behind bars,
we learnt to see those bars as metaphorical, lying to ourselves, misinterpreting verses.

Sleeping on floors,
bones crushing on concrete,
blanketing ourselves with cold small arms,
shivering but in a shack no one sees.
Have you never wished to be privileged, stay in a huge mansion with a family that makes
you feel special, piano lessons and stuff,
where food worships your stomach,
where your whole future is in order, education, businesses,
fame, but you are not that, leftovers are thrown at you,
you cry inside and ask ‘Why?’,
your heart drips tears,
you sleep and wish you woke up dead, sometimes you wish you had been adopted into those rich families,
and still learnt humility and respect, this black skin has teachings,
teachings from Ghetto rabbis.

The smell of the township is never easy to swallow,
the only beauty you can see is when you look up at the skies,
at least hope is found in the unknown, in temples you are
offered petrol cocktails just to fulfill a wish of being financially blessed,
you never afforded a therapist
so you counsel your own reflection when you speak to yourself in the mirror, re-organise your emotions,
convince yourself that everything is fine just because you saw someone who was much worse than what
you are.
Your CV got accepted at the traffic lights where you are called to dance your way to heaven,
paint your face like a clown, dance dance dance then ask for food from people
who click their tongues,
they believe everything is your fault, they read those billionaires’ quotations and thought that you are not working hard enough
to reach your dreams, but what is your dream?
You need a family,
love, smiles, a mother who
you can cry on,
they have judged you from afar,
making a fool of yourself.
you ask to wash their windscreens
and they scold you in Afrikaans,
even the ones with the skin colour as you,
I am no good Samaritan, but I know your pain,
are you not the same guy who they tried to bury alive while
we all laughed out loud when we saw you weeping,
when you dance at the traffic lights
tears are falling off your cheeks as you see happy families drive by,
and then you are left asking God why he has forsaken you. When the sun sleeps you
are back in your four-cornered shack, your body shackled by those
dry intestines that growl for your attention.

What's on your mind?
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