My body is a menace.
Stands in the way of progress only to be hated by the runners of this here planet
My body ,only seeking refuge from the stares
Secretly they desire to squeeze and feel and discover it,
While all the while criticizing it's colour shape and essence
This body...a menace, only when I give you power over it

You can knock me down
Twist your knife in my back
You can have all the power
But it's conviction you lack

You can broadcast my crimes
Exploit my every weakness
I have no doubt you'll try
There's no point you'll miss

As I wind up on my knees
For the hundred millionth time
You'll think you've won, but
Life just isn't that sublime

You can't break my heart
I've already slammed that door
Your bullet to the heart
Won't damage my armor

we stand alone along a steadfast row
alone we come alone we go
my rib curve like a circular bow
alone sometimes we need to grow
flying at night like a lonely crow
facing heavy storms on our own
crowds vanish like art on a stone
who do we know that's all alone
chasing blessings for we are known
small minded people act all grown
knowing the world but can't relate
we all alone to this date
alone in time we'll reach our fate
alone with faith reaching heavens gate

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Death (1 poems)
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Audiences killed Art? #241840 13 hours ago English poem
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Audiences killed Art?
By: Fortune Motsabi

Donning my "Cat armor",
loose fitting, white,
it will reflect every
little nick, every bite.

Choosing to be fluid
in action, word and deed
unrestricted and quick
to defend my urgent need.

Plate Mail is her shield
some feel she is over dressed
shooting cannons at mosquitos
she feels an offense is best.

Arriving early for an ambush,
her attempt is clumsy and slow.
She has filed her claws to points,
for a killing strike from below...

bond once strong, now grows old
Deceit seeps in like winter's night
Leaving scars, and a hollow light

A month is all it took,
And yet I've fallen in the deep ends.
Never did I suspect that the rain
Would shower me with ice,
And thee with sand.
Losing hope is near the shrine.

In eyes that once held warmth and light,
A frost has settled, dark and tight.
The echoes of our laughter fade,
As trust, like autumn leaves, is laid
To wither, lost, and unreclaimed.

I have never seen her naked
I have only seen her happy
I have never seen her sad
I have seen her hurt

I know not of the troubles she saw and conquered
Her strength enlightens the secret valley
Her garden is well off

She built walls of strong if it wasn’t her then her being built a boat

Ashleigh Ngoqo

Picking the fruit of eternity
A spark moment of truth held me 
To entice the appetite 
From the very first bite
An eternal taste
Easily traced
Superior 
Apple
 pie

Along my favorite path by the water
I imagine I hear whispers in the breeze.

Diamonds on the water, reflecting an incandescent sun,
have things to say too; echoing the wind.

The words, not intending melancholy,
talk over each other, anxious to have my attention.

And have it they will. This chorus of voices
I miss the most, hailing me when the wind speaks.

Hi Dad
I'm tired, hurt and unable to focus,
I constantly overthink and always get a bonus,
A bonus of anxiety and sleeping in different poses,
As my room feels empty but is filled with a bag of doubts.

I feel alone dad, I need a sign,
A vision or a dream or a canvas of your design,
I desire a lot of your attention,
Like a little baby that cries for no reason.