unwritten page

Unwritten page An unwritten page on a Word processor, I ought to leave it this way look and dream of what I could have written on the page If I delete words I have written, the page will be blank again No history, a crumbled-up sheet of paper for the waste basket For now, it is too late, but when coming to the end of the sheet My wife was in Johannesburg for surgery. Born in Congo, she is Light-skinned, but traveling on a Portuguese passport, she Boarded a bus for the blacks, great consternation, the police To go on the bus for the white people Racism and ignorance, now it is the Muslims who feel the Ignorance, we want them to be like us, not insist on doing Their own things Israel is a racist country, a thistle under the saddle of And an Arab stallion, and can’t last the way it is ruled The sheet is fouled by an opinion no one wants to hear What now, erase the page and write about the moon