A man forgotten

                                                        

Standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the world

with a face, battered from rejection &

cuts, deep to reveal flesh, stigmatized by pummeling.

 

Sands of time shift from under your feet,

Oh! You herald of a time waiting to come. Saying.

Like worms, our actions of today eat away tomorrow’s future,

and our tongues are left with no sweetness.

Vile and Vain. Politics of who knows who, wreck us havoc,

and our tradition has been renamed into barbarism.

 

I remember us crawl on the wall to trace a line.

It was a line in our sight, but we were blind.

Blind from driving fine cars on pot ̶ hole roads

& selling birthright for a porridge.

 

Dear Brother,

Now is the time to pick marbles, and build mansions. Think of places back home, in need of a life of love. Against oppressors, hate and division, brought on us who seek a future. So this poem goes in time to record a struggle, as a letter, sent to a man forgotten. 

Picture from lovepopsicles.wordpress.com