Truth Be Told...

My words tend to be abrasive

sometimes abusive.

They are painful and will wear you down

it’s like sandpaper versus toilet paper

do yourselves a favour

find comfort from your neighbour.

And please kids

only try this at home

when you’re all alone

or with friends over the phone.

See, this stage is mine

don’t even try

to challenge my poet R. Y.

my imagination will give you piles;

that’s when your anus extrudes from inside.

I’m really tired of pretending to be stage shy

cause all the while

my letters are just passing you by

and now I know why our mothers still cry

when I said condomise

you think I’m lying about that H.I.

When I said open a book

and give your history a look

all your heads just shook.

When I said R.E.S.P.E.C.T

for every black lady

every black lady

that I could see

shouted for me

like they were horny for me.

But when they hit the streets

they watched a sister get beat

and ignored the cries while another encountered R.A.P.E.


Now be honest with yourselves

are you just here to be seen

or to hear a cool punch line in someone’s poetry?

are you really feeling the beats

or is this just part of the path

on the way home to your old lady?


Now that I have addressed the crowd

I turn my attention to the proud

those who shout out loud

parading on my stage

saying they’re on the same poetic page.

You have no idea how much rage I felt

as I wrote this on my page

I am no sage

but I want to engage

in fact

I want a war to be waged

against all poetic fakes

political snakes

and intellectual cakes.

If you think my mind you can take

then let’s conversate

in a sealed room with my brother Face

start a debate

after ten blunts we’ve just blazed

and witness how my genius

simply rapes

you virgin brain

tearing at your grey

like that nine month old babe

ke bua ka nana Tshepang

yes, sometimes I am sick

my thoughts are like a trick

it doesn’t matter

you foets are just too thick

shit, I’ve lost it

fucken gits have me pissed!


It shames me to admit

I don’t believe I should get

a chance to do a set

while Romeo is somewhere on set

and now I get

why he tends to stress

the letter “S”

so you slow sleuths can avoid a mental mess

yet still wannabes contest




This is not an idol contest

or some pop star fest.

On fame you should focus less.


I want cash

I must confess

that’s why I’m not studying art like the rest

I’m striving for economic success.

You can try your best

but I’ll never respect

all of your fancy text

while Rea writes revolving rhymes ridiculing redundant writers

I wrote this poem for one reason alone

I want your hearts to harden like stone

make you think thrice before

you walk through the backstage door

and give your art to the floor.

You need to take your craft serious for sure

use your skill to educate and uplift

our people out of ignorance.

Drain out poverty

remember Marcus Garvey

when he said confidently,

“The black skin is not a badge of shame,

rather , a glorious symbol of greatness.”


I wish you all success

God Bless.

Thabiso Nkoana©2004

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741