The irresistible force removed the object
the unmovable slave trade always a profit
always forever a normalised project
so why would Britannia be willing to stop it
why would you pay just to give them away
purchase the product to cease without pay
for the sake of a debt that centuries stay
for no return no gain but to change the day
freedom is freedom through miracle alone
it came from nowhere and was the unknown
take it for granted and still those would own
how unlikely the ending that we have all known
One power, would be, one historically,
if not for Britain ruling the sea,
the way of the human, still slavery,
no other power ever set us free!
Categories:
normalised, africa, america, england, freedom,
Form: Rhyme
The girl in the room doesn't crawl backwards on the floor of her room, she doesn't chop her hair off in edgy disfigured shapes to contain all the leftovers of her being.
The girl in the room is normal.
As normal as an overcooked khichdi, you'll eat it anyway because it's a medicine.
Let alone ponder about it's beauty.
The girl in the room is reading news about a city known for the number of innocent
dead bodies it produces every year due to a war.
Noone really talks about survival in these cities anymore, only escaping.
Why do most humans find war stories interesting ?
The girl in the room reads news to draw relatability with normalised war zones.
The girl in the room, prefers quilts regardless of weather, she has mastered the art of a childhood game.
She seeks hiding.
Like she hides here, in this poem
Categories:
normalised, absence, anger, family, fate,
Form: List
One thing I have achieved is I have lived my life today, as I have yesterday and will tomorrow, I
have cut and used my shares to create my path I chosen that flows into the future, my path is
well cleared of weeds and other clutter, so when I wake in the morning it shall be as it was
yesterday.
For me change causes conflict through my inner core, as it challenges my very soul of right to
be, and works on my disempowering my growth with in my right to live, some times I find the
voice of my soul as it sings a song of sorrow and my mind speaks a voice of normalised and a
well rehearsed way of being me.
Singing its song of empowerment , create and cut a new path with my tools, change can be a
subtle as a song from your essence of being, By me clearing the way .creates a purpose which
gives hope to faith.
With my shears I cut a new melody for the rhythm of life, so my day is not tomorrow or
yesterday, I have created believe in my song and will be and go wherever the song sings, as I
write the words that design my song
Categories:
normalised, song, change, me, song,
Form: I do not know?