Monkgogi 'Rhetoric' Moshaga
Monkgogi 'Rhetoric' Moshaga Poems
Woe-Man With Passion
I have a mind besides yours, I too deserve to imagine. In my fantasies we feast and sport our passion, Passion that matches the fire in my soul, Passion that feeds my disguised hunger.
To Those Not Aware
The events of my life are my composition, They make me, they are my story to tell. I have been known to be source, I have been known to multiply. Multiply and bring more.
When It Rains
While it rains, I cry at freedom. The water that disguise my tears, The water that assure my children daily rations, While it rains I cry out-loud, competing with that thunder,
In Braille, For You Must Feel.
I wrote you a love letter my love, I wrote you a bald testimony composed of sentiment. To you my love, my heart poured. The pulse in my heart, for as long as I live,
But there where i love to dwell, so much discomfort. I am not what my actions scream, I love but i do not feel what the poor man sees in garbage. His food is my biggest allergy for its only allegation that i do not love you.
Its Just A Distance, But Never Distant.
So close yet so far, the long distance but the love is not distant. Away with so much fonder, true love that gives me marvel. More marvel than super heroes combined, You hear my loudest whisper more than my scream.
Sickness At The Ill Verdict
i am sick but a state of mind i drag my face to the sight of misery to the popular belief of society that gives me undesired attention.
My face is not ordinary, my eyes have poured now too dry i shall not cry. My face is not of the ordinary it has waters past through it, it has distinct taste of sorrow taste of fear. Helpless i lay, hoping that one may.Please help me dear.. Dear brave with strength change my flavor give me new taste.
Life Of A Woman Life Of A Pillar
In the damp and comfort of a sac i lay i floated, away from pascals of the world. In the peace and walls of a womb for trimesters, safe from prejudice and labour....
My face is not ordinary, my eyes have poured now too dry i shall not cry.
My face is not of the ordinary it has waters past through it, it has distinct taste of sorrow taste of fear.
Helpless i lay, hoping that one may.Please help me dear..
Dear brave with strength change my flavor give me new taste.
Give it taste give it taste of life, id be glad for change i would be glad in the state where lies less sorrow and misery, give it taste brighten my nature.
Brine never was never sweet but the