'what's wrong with a cockroach anyway'
'nothing but the squashed body of a cockroach'
that fascination with the cockroach immense
stemming perhaps from living in the house of hunger
there in the grinding poverty of the townships
called western suburbs by the politically correct
that cockroach voice turned prophetic
still singing the scrap iron blues here
the cockroach scurrying for cover in crevices
the house of hunger still here with us
trying still to exorcise the ghosts of the past
adding my cockroach voice to yours
'what's wrong with a cockroach anyway'
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