BY SIHLE NTULI
Burning Rubber
Crying Infants,
Babyface serenading stereos
R.Kelly pissing off kids
Jacko sat with them for play.
Kwaito blasts from the past left marks from the hits.
I watched as Bob Mabena got funky
Doctor Khumalo rapping along
Funnily enough those were the days when Bafana played like men.
BMWs and VR6s kicking up dust
Pantsulas were the All-Stars they wore
Our days of bare feet and sandals
Playing diski all the while kicking up dust
At bottle stores and beer halls
They served passion on the rocks
Grown men tried to put fires out their chests with clenched fist
Only to later raise clenched fists at rallies
Passion was against rocks
It was a hard place
Flaming necklaces
At bottle stores and beer halls
Throats engulfed in flames
We watched souls burning with timeless vodka.
On February 11
The volume on high
Passionate clenched fists and chants
Masses feeling it in their chest
Our world stood still
Lines on foreheads
Headlines made.
