Was it always like this, still I don’t have a clue
On the distance the dreams came true back in the day
I was watching the film of my living with you
Documentary film, not a fictional play
The main scene was a room by the backgarden door
We were coming and going, and searching again
For your glasses, we laughed and we looked out for
Some uniclo tops you could buy at a bargain
The door to the kitchen you always left open
Pippa went back and forth, you were letting her out
Into the garden, and we both were hoping
That here’s our place, our real homeward bound
It was life in its ultimate implementation
Then it ended one day and I need to know why
The film director must have some information
But no contact is shown, no mailbox to apply.
Categories:
documentary film, film, loss, love,
Form: Rhyme
When parents don’t have a choice and vanish
We, the hunted children of the urban jungle,
Inhale distorted dreams on an empty stomach
Falling asleep with stars and nightmarish rats
There is oxygen enough for the entire planet
Surprise us, please, with lullabies not bullets
We are afraid to grow up - as Fairies do not touch -
Only men with cold fingers in their perverted lust
“Let the children come to me...” - Hope Mountain echoes-
Above the World’s Stadium let kids’ pinata splatter
With candy for the rich and candy for the poor
We all belong together residing in our Hope…
Copyright 2011
Iolanda Scripca
Written for an International Documentary film...Check it out at: www.caprioleproductions.org
The little filthy secret of the economically rich Brazil is the assasination of the
poor "children of the streets" in its capital. They are considered a nuissance to the
rich and their lives...these poor kids are called "Street Urchins" and are victims of
drugs, prostitution and violence.
Categories:
documentary film, life, people, socialcandy, children,
Form: Free verse