Have you not seen those children
Who spit at the body
Of their mother
nude upon the streets
Which they built with her blood
Decorating the boulevards
With her widdering hair and
Her lips, soiled with curses
Bleeding away.
Have you not seen those children
Who glory in the under garments
Of their mother
Whose words are darts to the sufferings
She bore, building their minds
She swore, hoarding the pain
She tore, through fist and mist
And now, she is a score old
Unburied because she apparently knows nothing – dead
Have you not seen those children
Who whisper lasciviously
Boasting in the ravage of this land
Combed by those violent tributes
Where crude voices altar the praise
Of their mother’s pierced eyes
Her judgement impaled
I know you are watching them
By peeping through window holes
I know you are watching this brokenness
I know you know that it returns
This shame and neglect; I know you forgot
Wow, did not expect this as the first post that came up under ‘Poetry’, so shocking and begging for the love to be lived out, not the violence and despondency. I often wonder about those who cause so much terror to the lives of those around them and picture them still as babies on their mothers’ breast, beautiful and innocent beings. Can’t we bring back these infants and do it right this time?
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Those children have a father figure to whip them when they are wrong now.
This will make those children adults
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