Winning Poet’s winning Poem – Lost Kings: Tshepo Molefe

Tshepo Molefe, #CSPSlam Ch.5 12 poet slam winner’s winning poem.

 

We are lost kings

Men barren of land to rule

We used to live on Atlas’s palms

With hovering crowns declaring us deities

We fashioned ourselves wings

To trick the mind of its freedom

Before God, in His spite, ripped liberty from our back

This free fall is Jesus’s eviction letter

We understood Icarus when Helios denied him divinity

 

Our hopes bargained with Gaea’s embraces

But even she saw filth once her gaze met us

So, we dug ourselves

One kay in…

Two kays in…

Four kays into the pits of hell

Because its hosts understands how it feels like to be ejected from cloud nine

 

We traded our souls

For the ability to shape shift our hands to hammer

Adapt our fingers as drills

To ravage Mother Nature’s bowels

Because somewhere in there

Lies ores

Spores

To regenerate our lost shine

 

We are lost kings

Warriors fighting to break the cycle poverty has spiraled us into

 

Heaven forgot our sparkle

So hell accepts us on a daily basis

To tempt fate and death

To win bread for our family

 

But it’s become clear

That our labour is taken for granted

How am I supposed to feed my kids food for thought with just four slices of bread?

All we ask for is to be compensated for digging an uprising in our rand’s currency

To be rewarded with a loaf to lay our hunger pains to rest

 

We are lost kings

In need of divine intervention

 

We gather on this mountain top

This altar where we pierce Nirvana with our calamity

We pray that God may descend to fight our demons on common ground

Salvation came in spears and pangas

But even our hand-held idols couldn’t ward off piercing bullets

 

Again!

On this land

Black bodies are stray dogs

Shot to clean filth

To purge sin walking

Again!

On this land

Black struggle is documented

As trauma hour

 

Again!

On this land

Black bodies are martyrs

Literally, dying to be heard

 

I saw your brother fall

I heard your son’s growling stomach being silenced

I smelt your father’s will

Wilting…

Bleeding…

Rotting…

 

This is how this country repays us

For carrying their economy on our back

Our poverty is their profit

But how much dividends did our blood yields?

Were our lives nothing more than cheap, disposable labour?

 

How many times must black bodies face trigger happy genies wishing them dead?

How many times must black bodies experience silence as screams and bodies falling?

How many times must uMalume be tricked by white lies built on black pain to reap helpless souls?

How many times must our blood scream before you listen?

 

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One thought on “Winning Poet’s winning Poem – Lost Kings: Tshepo Molefe

  1. Pingback: Well, we outhea. Read my latest work, Lost Kings – tshepoblackhole

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