Beauty Of The Day Poem by raymond letsitsa

The beauty of the day
Is like an open wound receptive of decay
New moons of delicate seasons have dawned on the gay
The golden spawn of a defeated monarchy is a black goat gone astray
Deliver my sins unto my poor table if no trespass means I've got to be a slave to your technology
Filthy as human pedophiles partaking of a chicken orgy
Black lacks the voice of reason coz of your depression
Take this sinking ship of poverty and move me out your recession
This is my life and dream, what I do aint up for discussion
I know how you dreadfully look upon the street kid
Take away your hands from off the table because we have to eat
We are winners who learn how to acknowledge defeat