tinashe severa

(11/01/86 / harare, zimbabwe)

He speaks


He speaks, they all hear but no one listens
he points his guns at them , they all bow before him but no one respects him,
he smiles at the camera, they all stare at him on TV, but no one sees him,
he laughs with them at cocktail parties, they all smile back, but no one likes him,
he tells them of all his thoughts, philosophies
visions of brighter days to come,
all they see are empty wallets and hungry children on the corner of the street,
he exalts his greatness, his sacrifice for the nation,
all they see is a sacrificed nation with greatness forsaken

Submitted: Sunday, April 02, 2006
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  • Michael Gale (4/2/2006 5:48:00 PM)

    This is a good poem for one without an identity. Who is he? What is his identity?

    Best regards-Mike Gale. (Report) Reply

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