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Handful of Empty

Holding out my unchained hand,
light as evaporated air
is the emancipation accrued debt equity

By making reparation demands,
this long overdue affair
has a short tabled legislation probability

Many moons of unpaid slave wages owed me,
fills my bosom with hollow hope naught
These closed off, heavy-hearted thoughts 
has left me with two open palms full of empty

Ancestral back pay, (no interest tabulation)
it ain’t coming soon today
Only getting more dwindling expectations,
receiving more time delay

Echo green chimney stacks 
(mule manure fueled by plenty acres withheld)
blow a lot of promissory smoke

Vow fidelity’s grown slack;
much like bamboozle trees in an avarice veld,
bountiful lies are a rope choke

Watch the profit number swing high,
as the reparation cry is brought so belittled low
Unimportant issues always move molasses slow,
while full lips give a bloated belly sigh

I receive such meager satisfaction,
when given a paltry lump of culpability
Duh generous is my scoff reaction,
abundant doubt is me aural incredulity

Dead tired of hoisting wouldn’t lies;
lynchpen heavy wrists
bound to void promises,
given oath lightly by insincere ayes  

A fistful pile of penury tears
will build a scant trust reservoir 
of more empty-handed years


09-22-21

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 10/15/2021 1:43:00 PM
Well, you were able to get out your feelings about what happened to many African nations. The American Indian hasn't had it easy and the same for the poor white man. The opportunities are out there now for all the youth of our nation if only they set goals and work toward those goals then anything can happen. I hope they take advantage of what is available. Your visit to my page was encouraging. Sara
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Date: 10/4/2021 1:13:00 PM
Poetry lets the feelings we carry out and the passion for better in. A brave write, sad but not without hope. A cry, to others to try harder. One thing I have learned on my life journey is that change does not come unless someone expresses out loud the need for it. Poetry is a safe place to do that I think. It also exposes new talent, which is always a good sign. Take care David in NZ
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