I owe it to all of you that never made it out
to all the victims of the efficient organ grinder factory
Johannesburg,
you brutal bitch.
I must stand on the bodies of all those left behind
in order to just get a peak,
a brief glimpse
of what it is like,
on the other side.
I need to bring attention
to all the forgotten voices,
limp leg rope swinging
soft hearted broken edged
people
of whom, none but their profit line
was of significance.
So now I must process,
express and never repress
this burning and building rage
of the years
so unkind and heavy
to build a memorial,
a monument
and a memory,
to shout as loud as possible,
fuck it, this is not acceptable.
There is no need for the beauty
to be factory framed,
pounded down into nothing you
and every thing an s with lines.
So here's to you,
the dead and unspoken
voiceless numbers
hard packed
in cold golden orange ground
the land on which the brutal bitch
Johannesburg was found.
