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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

Yeh ssebo!

Yeh ssebo!

You want another term?
Yeh Sebo!
You want another rap?
Yes Sevo!
M7 is the best sports man on the planet.
he beats even our very own golola.

Its been many years,
many years of that yellow flag,
holding us by our mouths in gag,
yet our peace is slowly running away like a stag.

Red top soldiers now,
bring us to tears with tear gas.
strikes now mark the start of semesters,
prices have become absurd and sinister.
sorrow is rising like the morning sun,
as screams of the innocent fill the air-
like the scent of dead dogs.

But there we stand,
holding our peace signs up,
in arms with a man,
who started this with gun in hand.
back when screams of pain had been mastered,
caused by the tyranny of our old masters.

At least he skewed us into an alter,
and married us with an alternative of hope.
ayeh many years down the road,
I wonder if his acts will force him to hide,
or will he wrap his act with another rap?

This is what's happening in our Concrete Jungle...
It makes me wonder, Where's the happy in Independence? 

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