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Poem

The street might have not taste our strength

because we are holed up in captive

But our voices would be heard among the fools in the street

we could not fight destiny for who we are

Remember, we are part of your world, your home

Major discriminated of the universe

in the fragmented stinking forest of life

Held up in poverty  against our  fate

You sprawled merrily on the sofa

in the opulence room, but

we welcome the dark forbidden coal on our cheek

In the dark rotten shinning kitchen

In weakness and fear

Power less not voiceless

Hands held high unable to retaliate our suffering but we revolt in protest

Dreams dreams with no existence

Our kinds are destroy in complete may hem

But we one  thing is common among us

To speak for ourselves and later we betray ourselves

We are overthrown in every battle, stranded and frustrated

Unable to lay our hands in good things

Our legs are entangled in the spider's web

the singing fools we are because

We loot our selves and sell our conscience selfishly

That is why our voices is unheard

Tolling and suffering all day long

The sun brighten our darken faces amidst tears

We know the forest to be our native land

Upon the hands of those who bring squalor, 

impecuniousness and sickness

They are fools, indiscipline, callous and injustice

Which way should we go with our voices? >

of which mouth would they not laugh at us? 

locked in undermining war of weakness and fear

With our right dashed away mysteriously

Our only strength and power is our voice

which would open a new chapter in our lives

If only we speak only with one honest voice.

 

ALL RIGHT RESERVED JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT

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