On Our Streets
through the mist
vision blurred by the bias of our views
intelligently present our clouded vision
never attempting to walk in another men's shoes.
blinded by the fog inhabits our thoughts
signs in hand we offer our misted words.
convinced we are right
our dissenters lost
so we draw chalky lines
dare others to cross.
the air thick as stew our opinions attempt to dice
destroy the filmy feels of those on another side
war is declared
battles commence
with our guns blowing smoke,
our swords red hot metal forged
and still wrapped in the rising haze of heat.
our voices raised
yell through the dirty streets.
nowhere in sight a space of clear rationale
take the time to hear or see through this toxic mist
not a chance my friend
my eyes blurry with tears
the gas they release
the inner pain that i feel
through the mist
no one hears
everyone deaf
this our reality
when ideas
supersede our fellow beings
through the mist i see no love
hate covered and guised as ideas
oh if they could see through the mist
that is us on both sides of the street.
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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