Every day they call me,
The battered, the shattered
And the sat upon
The smothered, overly mothered
And the sat upon
The neglected, rejected
The undetected undirected
And the shat upon
The tattered, scattered ratted on.
Every day I hear them call out,
As they weep or shout or bawl out
Their tales of, “Wo! I’ve had enough!
Let the poisons do their stuff.”
Every day I take the call
Listening for something small
Some flotsam in the swollen river
That might allow me to deliver
A faint glimmer of some hope,
Turn the noose into a rope
To pull them to the shore.
But every day when the calls have ended
And the hands of help, extended,
Are inevitably pulled away,
I am mostly left uncertain
As to whether the final curtain
Has been stayed for another day.
Until at last, worn out,
My own heart torn out
And my own fears borne out
I call out my tale of, “Wo! I’ve heard enough”
© Barry Freeman - 10th May 2021
As we aspire a new day
We believe we are all like you all
And as you experince another day
The consequence will demand a teacher in you all.
As we move on with the time
We retrieve we were once like you all
And as you live every moment
The foregone days will esteem the helm in you all.
As we bask under a bright day
We bawl out on your acts like clowns and buffoons
And you acquit with your innocence
The defiance will mentor the deity in you all.
As we versed the life, you ought to see
We still eke out where we dreaded once
And you address us withal obedience
The honor will armor to face the battle with valiance.
As we read on, we see we are just like you all
We are no teachers, we are also the students
What you experince from each day
Will praise the students a teacher in you all.
Your clothes are flimsy as rags
With dirt’s that stench the air
Your skin are dry and creaky
Like a bread that lost its touch
Your mouth always quick to speak
With a voice sounding like drums
Despised in the land of everywhere
Wanted in the company of no one
Oh harridan avert from thy ways
Your heart is like the moon
borrowing the light of the sun
You feed on the happiness of men
Just because you hunger for war
You thirst for the blood of a child
So the mother will feel the ache
You wonder in the valley called pain
And find rest in the waters of gyp
Oh harridan repel thy doom to come
Your path leads to a destructive end
That smitten the lives of the innocent
Your thoughts are like soured milk
Leaving a tart taste to the soul of a lass
I cry out to you oh deceitful woman
Your end will be as bitter as gall
I bawl out to you oh vicious one
Your pit is as deep as an abyss
Oh harridan deter for your ruin is near
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