A Blind Man's Song Poem by pada kambanji

In the street where I live,
sits a blind man who sings,
a song that I believe.
he sings, from birth he could not see,
what he wanted he could not be,
a thigh of a woman bare he never seen.
I see a happy street,
I see little babys sleeping in their crib,
the rich feasting on lobster and shrimp.
but the blind one sings of all I cannot see,
all that pass him by when he sings.
his song of adulterers in the shadows with a key
the neighbors spouse to see.
of men who toast to Lucifer, for the riches he gave.
he sings of a bribe, to free a killer.
of a couple broken and barren.
of a farmer waiting for the rains
(that never come)
of a robber hunting for empty gains.
his song senses no HE or SHE,
but the homosexual that they be.
as he sings,
a little girl passes by,
behind her is a paedophile,
pray pray in while he will defile.
a teenager high on ganja,
passes him by,
soon in a loony he will be,
as his brains go bananas.
the blind sings
of a husband who took a sip of the amarula,
his wife tonight he will batter,
he sings that this street had a choice,
between Buddha and disaster,
it rather chose the latter.