Niki Nicholas Nkuna

Rookie - 52 Points (1957/01/09 / BURGERSFORT (Leeufallei farm or Ga- Makwakwasi))

By The Road Side Under The Veranda - Poem by Niki Nicholas Nkuna

I sit still by the road side,
Under the veranda and see everything,
Public thinking me not seeing,
And understanding the goings on before me,
Albeit I opened the court doors,
When the curator lost the key,
I enhanced death, when the criminal can't see,
I saved life with garbage,
And enhanced crime with a blind eye,

My vantage position is worthwhile,
The stench begin with a buffer,
And I have become part of it,
The public shy opens my eyes wide,
To see far into the selfish world,

My natural scent is venom,
It pollutes my surrounding and relationships,
Generates hate that paint the buffer,
I hate possessions, for,
I have nothing of wants except by me,

I dreamed of going home,
The Bastil doors are ajar,
The grease and filth is thick to the knee,
I'm glued in, can't move away,
I'm freed of all the razz matazz on earth,
However, I live by the dream,

My current home is free for me to live in,
But un-free for me to move on,
The food rations I get is for free,
But un-free for me to live on,
The clothes I get are for free,
But un-free for me to live on,
The furniture I get is for free,
But un-free for me to live on,
Albeit I cherish the scrimping,

Me and my community,
Have come to love our sanctuary,
Fenced by grease and stench we are untouchable,
We smile at the danger before us,
We are vulnerable because the buffer is not visible,
Albeit we are uranium in which gold is hidden,
We are not different to the ground that is spat on,
We are disrespected because we are different,
Although we did not choose to be so,
We found ourselves behind the jail doors,

Surrounded by everything worthless in the public eye,
We are drowning in the abundance of goodies,
Sometimes I get so satisfied, I need nothing but sleep,
Sometimes I get so hungry like a tiger,
I wish I could die,

The buffer is a disgusting musk,
I get chased everywhere I go,
Even people in vehicles are afraid of me,
Car windows and doors are closed before me,
Those who brave and give me something,
Receive no gratitude because the rejection,
And dislike is overwhelming,
My mind besmirched,
Direction of life oblique.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 11, 2012

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