We will be taken captives of the rebellion demands
Bloodshed pictures are forcibly grabbed from our hands
Burnt and then later are perfumed
So as out there rottenness may still while zoomed
smell as glamorous sugary rose flowers stooped
The weak beggars, the one-eyed, the gawky needy
The crippled, and the poor suffer a lot
Our voices are echoed back at our hearing so dainty
We are hushed by men of embezzled fiat
No one will ever rise to our uplifting
O my voice, what if no hears it
When shall this ever end I ask?
We have lost confidence in this
No one hears the voice of our silence
We are shocked and suffer from within
We feel chocked and suffocated for the win
The surrounding is misty with malice
It has come with urban business demise
What legacy do we leave
What do we think they receive
When injustice develops in a law
Persistence becomes a duty
Whilst in my noisy room I pose to rest
I hear gunshots playing from without
Compiling us like young birds in a nest
The sound is heard like a ticking of a clock at night
O my voice, what if no hears it
When shall this ever end I ask?
Hustle and bustle in Africa! ! When shall this ever end i ask? Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Persistence becomes a duty Whilst in my noisy room I pose to rest I hear gunshots playing from without Compiling us like young birds in a nest. i hear your voice my poet friends. the atrocities the powerful and the rich do in this world is horrible. the scenes in the news are horrible every day and every night...... thank you for this revealing poem. God bless u always. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem dear... it describes my country 'Uganda'