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Not the dripping words from rotund cheeks Or the mesmerized audience in fashionable conferences Not the frantic letters pawned from sacred pages Nor the cowering force of conviction in hallowed institutes Neither the skewed statistics manufactured on swivelling chairs Abi omniscient,omnipresent hard-mini-traitors know me Rather, I am the brackish fluid in hunger gorged sockets the menacing cloud in the orphans eyes the rumblimg rage in growling bellies the taut thread on diseased diaphragms the bloodless taste of conquered cities the shriek from stripped streets the chaos from breadless tables and passionless beds and the repugnant smell of decaying dreams I AM POVERTY!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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