raymond letsitsa

There are murders in the streets,
The hungry and the poor
are never totally complete,
They wake up in the morning
...

The melodies of a voiceless bird
Fill the night like a wine glass
Emanating radiance
The clueless prophet
...

Hallucination taking a hold of my thoughts
Mind contemplating the gaping hole of impossibility
Say no talent was found
Where none was sought
...

Choked suddenly
by the awkward breeze
of drunk odor
in this place
...

The earth was void at first
And later gave birth
To murderous children
Hugging a pole in a bar is not
...

I have seen spleens torn apart
by the decorative schemes
of a rapist with heart
Mistress, and an angelic soul sister
...

The idea of strip searching a statue
won't give you a solid touch
Rape victims, sodomists
and witchcraft are the
...

I don't know how far
I can hold this
The art has given me such
a great spiritual bliss
...

Nowadays the mind of the God of the holy
Bible
Battles with the thoughts
of the God in the holy Koran
...

Sore sarcasms of hysterical hypocrisy preach
To the tenderly messed up mammoth ears of pastors who practice not what they preach
Gays marry now, ways vary and monarchs vow
To change the world that's hurled unto the ground by nepotism
...

Inevitably my thoughts
Linger too long on those curves, those thighs
I'm a suffering romantic psycho darling, just gimme a try
I'm not that kind of guy who'll rape you or molest you
...

He felt the rhythm in the streets
Street poet with hard hype can't get beat
Schooled in the knowledge of holiness like Koran
Blessed eternally with stanzas that bomb like Iran
...

The beauty of the day
Is like an open wound receptive of decay
New moons of delicate seasons have dawned on the gay
The golden spawn of a defeated monarchy is a black goat gone astray
...

I dwell where heavens
once fell
The satan that went to hell
Now appear dressed in mini-skirts and bracelets as well
...

Give your heart unto me
Rhythmically soothe me like a ballad melody
A kiss may do me good
But that's not a sure remedy
...

My mind is lost in the sound of the gun
That you were holding,
And firmly pointing it towards a nun
Its no new rivalry of thought,
...

With umbilical chords
sticking out
of the womb
there's no doubt
...

Ever since birth I've been running
From the thunder clap
And the bullet
from
...

For if they can curse
A dead body in a hearse
They'll wake up missing the sun
And singing a lamenting verse
...

When all of them
Were holding guns
We held spears
And stabbed their nuns
...