“I’m living according to the law of hand outs, I’m living under the law of charity, I’m living under the law of being used.” PainSadnessAfrican LiteratureAfrican ArtAfrican PoetryAfrican WriterDepth Of ColourDefinition Of ColourSpears Of AfricaDefinition Of My Pigment Author:Tapiwanaishe Pamacheche
“Mother! Ripped apart. Reaped stones of poverty, weeds that sprouted. Grown to fast, crowned young mother. HIV reaped the harvest of my parents left me with nothing but toddler to take care of. Robbed my youth and my hey days, left naked among a thousand suns. The splendor, the splendor of pain. My face is beautiful broken pottery, a poetry art scene. The screams inside ravage and rammer the very child born along thorns of anguish.” PainPoetrySufferingWomanhoodRapeAfrican LiteratureColour PetuniaAfrican Philosophy Book:Depth of colour Source: Depth of colour
“1 prefer scotch to Irish. And I plough my own garden. There is this music in the mud, mulching the pains of weed. They need to grow have you ever wondered? My mother was born in a hut, my daughter in a hospital what a transition, there was a time I was under the bridge, with green shoots of wars flandering, my head ringing. And after that, there is woman, a woman with topaz eyes died in the winter of the sun, some dull evening. made love with her soul, now in my blood she lives what a cost. Under certain smiles and growing madness... I have trouble to sleep I have chose to study Latin, and practice the virtues of stoicism and the principle of Moses.” LovePainDeathReligion And PhiloshophyHannah Cherub Book:Hannah Cherub: Hannah cherub Source: Hannah Cherub: Hannah cherub