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Poem

It is like an imagination
When eyes open in original nation
Close in this word but phantom
Close in this cruel and crook home
Whose false falsifies brothers and sisters
Into pirating neighbours’ labours
Into dancing to drum of hatred
Into dipping hands in blood
Blood topples like control-less plane
Blood streams like oil that emancipates from can
Tighten the tether of sin
And close the gate of the zion

Religion preaches to the heart – 
Heart of lost soul and straighten the route
Says prostrate your mind – prostrate your mind
Prostrate your mind before your lord
And hope is birthed

Hope is birthed like a baby
Depth down the heart
Grows as the day goes by
Gives sense of patient
And longing for the real word
And good deed is birthed

Good deed is birthed like a rising in sun
Sharpen as the day moves on
Wash off the sin and you are an infant
Who is not sinned before and present
Rebuke evil ought to befall you
Stimulate and hasten progress on your way
Spiritual and natural you grow
Religion, Patient, and Good deeds are lights, heaven’s key

Not for contest.

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