NDINGUNYANA WOGQUBA..
I went hunting, doors slammed and my soul so lost. Long walk with a suit and tie; that chokes you so bad till you die. I like overall so good for the life circuit. Ingrained in this nation we embrace. Rooted in the soil; thee soil, crossing the borders of my homeland.
I am the son of the manure
See my mind speaks for itself,
extracting those purest phrases taught by our forefathers .
My feet dusted with the closure of my home land..
walking down those hills of Mangati .
I miss my homeland...With its people, cow dung on my feet. United with the spirit of Ubuntu.In a distance you. could hear them singing songs of grace, filled with mystery. Listen if you dare, at my own pace, seeing, Hearing and living life to the fullest.
Memories made so soft yet equivalent, Say Africa.
We are black gold, digged deep down to the shallow of Mbhashe ,
black gold in the morning breeze.
But we are rooted in the mist, feet stumped deep onto the soil, thee soil. Leaving a foot print for the next generation.
Funny enough how memories don't live like people do. See There is broadcast in the nation, shared spirits and
languages. There is movement in our foundation.
Yet I am the son of the manure!.
