Shallow tears

img_20171120_135105_15545108514.jpg

Her heart breaks, not for the player and his promiscuous ways, but for the homeless lady she sees in the same spot everyday. Her heart bleeds, not for gucci bags or anything else she might wish to keep. But because she heard about families in Grenfell towers burning in their sleep. Her heart weeps not because of her flaws or insecurities, but for the mother of that little boy that was stabbed on her own high street. She’s human too. Full of her own doubts regrets and fears. But her angelic eyes would just not let her cry,  shallow tears.

 

Shadow of supremacy

img_0780.jpg

 They stand against the light to cast shadows, that make our paths dark, it’s no wonder we got lost on our way home. We once sat on gold thrones, now we beg thieves for a place in our own home…

we’ve been taught to fight their shadows, with the shade we throw, while the grave they dug for us grows and grows…Go to their schools to borrow our own ideas, the innovators become imitators, in hopes to integrate, into their hateful ways..  

 When they can’t break us, they’ll force us to bend, and blend, into the violent trends they set without regrets. They’ll pretend to be our friends, tell us they mean “no offence” …while keeping our very being misunderstood.

Until we end up in a shadow war with no end. Cast by burning crosses ,pointed hoods…and fear 

 

moral fabric

Sever ties, or sew it’s seems…fabricated materialism tightly woven into a dream…

Buttons pushed, tighter at the collar…the emperor needs a new suit, for which he will pay top dollar…

Strung along ever so gently, tucked neatly into a pocket, ironed out,nice and clean….Or so it seams…

Fabricated materialism;

satin stitches sewn, the emperors stunning new suit, embroidered with silky half truths…And severed ties…

A striking moral fabric! …That feels like wool over the eyes…

The mad men I met

I met  preacher man, who would twist his own philosophy, purposely, to make short term profit off a long term prophecy.

I met a bunch of bankers ,that toppled the economy

I met a politician, with his vision, so impaired, he was unaware, of his hypocrisy, trying to force democracy, using guns and bureaucracy

Hell…I even met a martyr with a life insurance policy…

 

Unhappy family 

sisters have decided to make up lies, and wear them on their faces. They have chosen to chase vanity rather than face reality. 

brothers would rather fight for power, than fight the power. They have decided to undermine the importance of affection. They have lost direction,following ego.

parents demand all children must pay rent, to live in the very homes they were born in. Only seeking change, where they can earn a little extra change. They don’t correct mistakes anymore, instead they abuse authority, prolong animosity. 

children no longer want to read books. They chase numerical quotes, on printed notes, that have no real value, instead of dreams.

This world is a broken home. No one knows what theyre here for, nobody even cares anymore. Except us. You, and me. 

All that’s left of our scattered family. 

Coloured 

I was innocent, until you outlawed my existence. I was free of charges, until you put me up for sale. 

I was suddenly unwelcome, in your so called home, because I stopped hanging out in your fields. 

I had a dream so real, it woke you up, on the wrong side of the bed…

You ran so far ahead, of the truth, before I found my feet. You still had time to look behind and watch me stumble in amusement.

You limited my choices, because I refused to pick, when you asked.

You tell me my face is ugly, and give me yours as a mask. 

 I worked hard, for a while, amassing a woodpile, only to later burn it. In attempts to draw attention, to a fire you started. You use that same flame to torch holes in my history, later to fill them in with ego fuelled lies.

I was a blank canvas, until you coloured me black. You now refuse to look at your own painting. 

The gloomy heirloom built on generations of pain; decorated in every shade of genocide. 

Whether you choose to accept credit for the disaster master piece inspired by hate,fear, and fate;

or acknowledge that, you, neither held a whip nor hold the blame 

Without any change in the patterns our colours make, you will gain from these moral stains all the same. 

 

Poor placename 

The third world, from whence life first came. 

The bronze medalist, that sleeps on beds of gold. That has spent far too long running from race, and dying from foreign AIDS… The farmer with an empty plate, who put food on everyone’s table. The source of pride to many. Despite its discounted  label.

 There is really only one world. A cruel one…”third” is just a fable.

Democrazy

You had our trust but somehow, you have lost it

We had peace but somehow, we have lost it

We paid you our dues,  you lost them.

We had hope now we’ve almost lost it.

You had my vote but now you’ve lost it..

you’ve  lost it…

 

Militia 

Attention! 

They spill blood to get your attention, They spread tension, They watch your entire nation, and way of life derail. as we, point fingers, bickering about irrelevant details…

At ease!  

They sit and They watch, They’re at ease, innocent blood spilt on the streets, genocide, hunger, famine, disease. They smile and look on, They are pleased. we, search the destruction and deceased, hoping to find even the most minuscule piece of peace.

we, question the god that they claim to appease, too many children  shot down by police, like its everyday life, day light robberies of innocent life, They pretend no one sees.

Halt! 

all progress must come to a halt. we’re not even sure who’s at fault, confusion partakes in all assaults, into our wounds They rub salt. slander my brother with insults

They, take his faith as a scape goat, re-painted as a violent cult, in the red that spills, from his silenced throat…

we debate our fate, spreading They’re fear and They’re  hate, while They make a killing, emptying vaults…

Halt.
Take aim! 

They take aim with misguided information, targeting the majority of the population. Dividing we into them and us, no one knows who to trust. They send us Leaders that are corrupt, as They watch, our city’s and homes erupt.

enough is enough! ‘they’…must be stopped

March! 

We, must march towards revolution. We, must retaliate, We, must see they’re power come to dilution. We must be liberated. we only, possess the one weapon truly neccesary. The only true route to victory. The only way to truly be free.

Love! Love is the key… To hallways of opportunity…Those blinded will once again see…. As soon as love turns They turns them into We