Under the national treasures, they scramble for seats,
Selfishness solemnly from the wrinkled faces drips.
Do they speak our words or the words of Japanese Jeeps
When poverty and insecurity on our foreheads firmly sits?
Self made men like you are rare
Such vision and passion you had to share
So sure at such an early age
Of words you placed upon a page
Love flowed through your soul and veins
And spilled upon the pages plain
You pawned everything a man can know
So sure of what you had to show
Then politics became your passion
And people's poet was your fashion
Exiled by the heads of state
Hiding was your newest fate
Until awards upon you fell
And sent you from the man made hell
And though you may no longer live
The words you left will always give.
These words they speak at the parliament
And big words emanating with spirit
But the less crystal night
And the more benign stare of the fireflies
Holds no fear for their night acts
Ghana - must - gos rolling in
Only the jumbos qualified
And stuffed to the zip with our funds
Perfectly arranged
For these parliaments big words speak
This treacherous faces revealed
Now their camouflage they need not
For they are like shadows
In the dark sinister glare of the Night
Only the night can see
Party over
And the lights are back on
They, sitting in the comfort of parliament theater
And a state of the art therapy seats
Ignorant of tutorial hunger
We, sitting and watching
In a state of the earth hunger therapy
subject to perpetual hiss and bitterness
And a night of deadly fervid dreams
Alas! nothing can we do
But watch & wash as they waste
What was our work wages in haste
For all year long
And we can simply sing this song
For all Macabre dancers knows no pause
An Irish Catholic immigrant,
a prideful man was he,
his ego out-weighed his bankbook,
and he hated poverty.
He fathered many children,
and most of them were sons,
the eldest son, Joe Jr.,
was always number one.
Piously he prayed for wealth,
but never worked a day,
and Satan waited patiently
for the words he knew he'd say.
He spent more time at his Irish pub,
as his malignant bitterness grew,
cursing God, cursing life,
cursing all he knew.
And, yes, those words did pass his lips,
and, lo, he did appear,
but he looked like a gentleman,
his smile seemed so sincere.
Construde for human Interpitaion
Bound by facts and falsification
Eccentricities of my perception
Attempting to twist and cloud the socially excepted guidelines
Stoping the ignorance instilled through stereotypes that bind free minds
Looking past knowledge that someonelse has given
Seeking knowledge thats spiritualy filling
Cease mentally killing the willing by propaganda in open ears
Stupidity building through your words reinforcing fear
Verbally raping people with misconstrude information
Running things as if it were a plantation
No education instead we fight your fictitious wars
While on our soil people are starving and work to stay poor
Eight years of deception never once an explanation
Democracy is dead and the Bill Of Rights on vacation
Narcissistic bloodshed over oil, so many tears have been wept
No truth in your words promises never kept
Look dont just listen...
Soon well be a third world country knocking on mexico's door
Attempting to jump over walls of ignorance that before we chose to ignore....
By Nichole Wilson
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