Freedom is my haritage
Gift of encestors my land my existence
My legecy.
...
Vuvuzela-
Crude and harsh
Anarchic
Drenched in passion-
...
Mom, there is a man at our door
He wants to talk to you.
...
Many roads are being built,
Days and nights fuse into each other, painting
obscurities of grey:
Leave clues of hue
...
I spy
I spy your mind-
How much logic does it hold;
I spy your heart-
...
If I could write that one poem
If I could imprison laugh and sorrow, riches and poverty, man-mind-earth and hope
If I could find that sorcer's stone
Could have plated with gold
...