Bread for your thoughts, yet nine hands later
Under the president’s knife, Spare some crumbs for the voter
Could we possibly ever, keep this sinking country afloat…
Drowning in a sea of poverty, we need to shed some sailors off this boat
Loot here loot there, master plan, the master scam
Sell skin tones, arson the soul, claim from empty pockets
for those who survive the trial of endurance
Have already secured their puppets for insurance
Lead with spear yet cut the white man at the tail with a bread knife
Whilst the black man feels the sharp end of an unequal life
Blunt times have always been for the oppressor that was never reformed,
Whilst we live through mediocre laws faced with traumas from democracies…
Apart-tyd… is a past time, that always strikes when the clock stops…
Alarming!
Katlego Maaba, engineer, entrepreneur, part-time wordsmith… smooth like a baby’s bottom… a lover and a hugger… spreading positive vibrations.