Death Angel In My Eyes Poem by Phinda Mkhonta

In this hat of the ancestors sacrifice,
In this hurt of the spirit of my conscience,
I go because I must leave to feast with the legends,
I am leaving the shining African valleys, agents
I must leave, do not lament, you will rune my journey,
May I put down my soul’s tools?

I am famous in keens and tours of the African land,
Near and far they breathe my prominence,
I was acknowledged by all; traditional herbalist, scientist,
Clowns, technicians, artists, rascals, workers
Lazybones of noble African land but out of the rest;
I need no company from any of them,
May I put down my soul’s tools?

This journey is my specific unaccompanied,
Thought were made; the good and the bad,
The were many wishes and dream to life,
My ambition were still burning to bust achievement
Target were made, jobs already started, the were
Many jokes to crack but it is now beyond schedule
The juice was worth the squeeze, I am
Ready to go and live with my ancestors,
May I put down my soul’s tools?

My past give me a dark journey; rushing my road
Sweeping my soul, winding way, blinding my journey
For my past mistakes and hates, habits,
Blights and greed’s, out of my past come
This dark journey to death but this not
A journey of choice, may I put my soul’s tools?