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An omelette cannot be unscrambled. Not even the one prepared in the crucible of 19th century sordid European design.
When Europe cut up this continent into little pockets of its imperialist want and greed it was not for aesthetic reasons, nor was it in the service of any African interest, intent, or purpose.
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How shall I sing to celebrate life when every space in my heart is surrounded by corpses? A plain truth and well crafted. I see why he is a South African poetry Laurette. Of course you will face the consequences of your actions.
An insightful retrospection elegantly brought forth in good diction with conviction. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem MZANSI AND THE BALLOT BOX.
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12/5/2025 12:58:36 AM # 1.0.0
Wonderful poem. Excurciatingly badly read. It would be better to have no narrator than this one.