Don’t bleat to me in the literal terms of politicians
When I foresee the freed will of violent aspirations
I too can vent the fury to slam my fist down in defiance
That as a person in amongst the peoples’ presence
March onward to a new world far from hopelessness
To unite in the quality of sharing all that is forgiveness
It is not hard to fathom the potential of eventualities
For this is the weight of a mortal human heart’s abilities
We will if only a few can try and augment the masses
To tread the pathways of hope to a world of equal faces
Looking with tears upon the perception of what we are
That the keys are within us but never to reach that far
To actuate the formidable of nothing less than radical
But what is that when you see nothing but debacle
Is it just too much to ask to free the tears of a child’s soul?
Left in the grip of the sting of starvation to pay its toll
That a beaten wife once told that she is the one, loved?
Isn’t it time that truths were free spoken not uncovered
Behind every account of abuse, rape, suffering and atrocity
Or the money sought so no grandparent dies in solitary
That a coin a man in his work earns, is the reward for labours
Not the repayments for a government of greed fed liars
Life should never be again weighed in value of monetary systems
But in the virtue in life’s own sanctity beyond bankers gems
That when a parent fails a child is cared for not strategized
Upon the charts of welfare and the loneliness politicised
Isn’t it about time that every grave contained the aged?
Not the tender souls of children, so dishonoured and discarded
Or the pretty girl whose body is a patch work of violent memories
Unable to reach out to the hands of care when fear personifies
Where is the great nation when the street corner is decorated?
By the sleeping beggar, the homeless, the shivering depleted
No more shall a war be fought for the autonomous greed
But to capture back the lands for crops so the starving feed
In a place of no riches, a place of no poverty, so to cooperate
That every voice of protest heard and so thus exonerate
Where is the place of our world, be it at the hands of freedom?
Be sure when a man cries and a woman embraces the tome
A new history will be written in peace not in religious suggestion
This is the change, this is the day, just believe in my passion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem