"I've much to share from deep within my soul,
Though dusty,
murky,
where my conscience lies.
To be or not to be,
my thoughts unroll,
My mental records seek to reach the skies.
Broken spirits often voice the most, Forgotten souls,
their bodies drifting free.
Rivers conceal their notorious cost,
People subject to a tyranny.
Words lose their meaning,
falsehoods prime in time,
Facade to most, ruling the minority.
Sticks and stones may wound,
but I'll outshine,
Within my chambers,
embers ignite me.
Mr. Officer,
please,
temper your heat,
Smoke clouds guide me,
I wander through the street.
Bang!
Bang!
In ghettos,
sounds repeat,
A judge descends,
with hummer's beat,
we meet.
Silence!
In the hood,
echoes resound,
Tumbler tumbles,
picking souls from the ground.
Hick!
Collecting broken lives we're bound,
It's all a psyche,
in this game we're found.
The masses lost their mass,
now gone astray,
Food plenty,
yet the North in sorrow lay.
Bellies out,
but empty day by day,
Giving holy,
praying for souls to sway.
It's all good,
the masses mass anew,
Lenses capture all,
perspectives true.
Ain't it divine?
A different view,
Put up a sign,
the hounds are worthy too.
From the four pillars of my home,
I know,
My father is drunk,
my mother in denial's flow.
My siblings bickered,
tensions often grow,
In yesterday's worse,
we drank,
ate, and let go.
Our mother,
busy with 'busy,'
day by day,
Debts pile high,
on shelves,
they stay.
Though dusty, murky,
where my conscience lay,
I've much to show,
from home's pillars,
I convey."
YOU ARE READING
LETTERS FOR MY MOTHER
PoetryThis is collective writting of words and expreciences i had with my Mother and my day to day views as a man .Now painting a view of life as we know it through my works of letters and poetry
