in our imaginary stories, with our imaginative languages we see different worlds. we live our own different lives we survive by our own different images in our own different minds, we see different views. you see total different styles, you view total different phases you sing total different songs and lyrics we read different stanzas of our own poetry in our own different minds, different lives...

be free at heart

be free and fearless, be free and kindred spirited free and light hearted. take light on living living will be lighter on you free and fearless allow yourself the luxury of hope and hoping it is all we have got we break down completely, with hope gone be free and fearless do not shy away, breakthrough that thicket earn your place, and own some ground extract the most hidden secrets extract the most intimate scents of your secrets explore them, feel them, and live them be free at heart.

wth my lamplight by the anthill i am like one-egged twins, inseparable with my lamplight i see the anteater in the moonlight i gather berries on the hill sometimes, on the edge of the pond white ducks waddle towards me in the moonlight with my lamplight you see dimpled cheeks i am like one-egged twins,inseparable with my lamplight, i see my shadow

she has the song in her mind still the song is her life her wholesome life is in the song you see the lyrics in her eyes pina ya botshelo jwa gagwe e matlhong look at her eyes sparkling jewel-like eyes sing the lyrics listen to her baby-soft-like voice flow with the rhythm and dance to the tune pina ya botshelo jwa gagwe e matlhong

by the fires

settling here from wayback afar,setting up living from times of york these are the people, our forefathers. foretelling the future, making history, the past as per generation. our past propel us into twenty sixteen and our culture define us as we are here now, by the fires. reliving the past as per told by forefathers retelling the past as per lived per taught by forefathers in such a rythm, as such tales and stories handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation as we are here now, by the fires. history in making, every minute. every people make history, their own in their own type in their own time by their own way... as we are here now, by the fires he is making his own, it will be told and retold in the time when he will not be,when the time comes and he will not be he is eating in the kgotlas main with the old and the young as we are here now, by the fires retelling the stories of the past reliving the moments of the past making his own his type of story in time... our past propel us into twenty sixteen our culture define us each story told. each moment lived each step to the future. each moment in time ahead twenty sixteen as we look brighter for tomorrow with our past a nation with no past is a dead one like -father- like - son

the hill is steeply high, it is rising up and up and seems never to stop rising. i follow it with my eyes, my tired looking eyes that seem not to reach the top. and the top looks so distant and blue with smoke, the top penetrates into the vast sky... so i do not look up uhead, i look at the sides, i look at the shrubs alongside me. these small bushes seem to go on and on. they seem to never stop growing, they seem to never stop going...its a long way. so, as i brush past them, my tired good looking legs...they seem not to take it anymore. the weight, the steep and gravity... as i brush past the shrubbery, it is my source of motivation, as i brush past them i feel a source of awakening spirit you can do it babe yes you can reach to the peak keep moving... i am urged to go on to never stop rising up and up so the top is not steep high anymre it looks so nearer and closer... so clear rise up babe...

the hill is steeply high, it is rising up and up and seems never to stop rising. i follow it with my eyes, my tired looking eyes that seem not to reach the top. and the top looks so distant and blue with smoke, the top penetrates into the vast sky... so i do not look up uhead, i look at the sides, i look at the shrubs alongside me. these small bushes seem to go on and on. they seem to never stop growing, they seem to never stop going...its a long way. so, as i brush past them, my tired good looking legs...they seem not to take it anymore. the weight, the steep and gravity... as i brush past the shrubbery, it is my source of motivation, as i brush past them i feel a source of awakening spirit you can do it babe yes you can reach to the peak keep moving... i am urged to go on to never stop rising up and up so the top is not steep high anymre it looks so nearer and closer... so clear rise up babe...