28 July 2019 | FunDza

Poetic birth cry, and the year 2012 is missed
Written by coal, my great poems not published
No time wasted, but it’s deep I’ve not made progress
Comforting myself I’ve been getting writing experience

If that’s true, it’s good and enough
Eight years of experience has been poetic rough
I used to write and I wasn’t so lazy
During Sunday evenings, writing like I was crazy
At home they never knew I was writing poems instead of homework
I enjoyed Maths, but I found it whack

If that’s not true I cry for the wasted time
My sweetest rarely words and the flowing rhyme
I used to sit down and write by myself
Young kid in self doubt, I starting reading my poems by myself
I used to take risks, crossing thin bridges
Looking for writers, of all races and ages
I never wished to go to high school
Just wanted to be a poet and that was cool

Unlike sports, poetry has no rules
How free and democratic is the country with no rules?
Remember #Thoranation_SA is a poetic world
I have aliens’ flow, my flow is out of this world
18 September 2019 version I see it from away
What I’ll blow up with is heavy, I can’t handle it from today
They used to like me when I was praying for reality
Now they don’t like me for writing reality

Childhood wasn’t good
Adulthood doesn’t promise to be good
Or its cultural mood of the hood?
We used to play streets at homes
Randomly cops used to arrive in the homes
Later in the streets is where we found homes

Each and every day was a horror movie
Watchers shaking movie
Lessons and growth-rated movie
Some things are just time wasting
And some poems show a poet rising
And the second is what I’m doing

I know about me, killing it is what you’re liking
Especially when I’m not stopping
Harder and harder and crazy when I’m going
Queens be smiling when reading my poems like they’re a sweet message
I’m about to turn twenty one, still young and a savage

Poetic return, holding myself accountable as revenge
We used to watch when it’s getting darker
For the night we prayed and I used to wonder
Was it business time or was it really getting darker?

At some point I wanted to be a politician
To seek true leadership and live like an American
I couldn’t though, I guess not because I’m African
Time goes on, and people’s habits are changing

I’ve just thought about the fans I’m eventually losing
As Tour Orah da poet I’ve been not writing
For the past eight years I’ve not been serious
Bars are on, with Chinese eyes I’m cooking rice

Not the beef, I’m vegetarian because I’m street-wise
I don’t like paying, that’s why I’m doing freestyles
A black version of Eminem, in poetry I’m gonna walk eight miles
You’ll never notice even when I’m spitting lies