A Poisonous Air... Poem by Merlin Mwaura

There is a poisonous air,
coming from the wars of heaven,
the wars here on earth,
and we have taken time to manipulate,
the clean air,
we have sold it,
we sell it for a price...
so we can breath
so we can sell each other our freedom.

Why should we ask for what God Has given?
who brought the coin?
the money that now tears us apart,
the coin that chooses people's fates,
by the toss of a coin,
we live or die.
The hungry,
the wealthy...
selling clean air,
begging for what they have.

A poisonous air inhaled,
has made us disoriented,
It has deluded many,
we must get the high off freedom,
and so we buy without thought,
we buy our freedom as if it were taken from us.
We buy our thoughts as if we had none.
We beg for order as if we are not orderly.
Even in war and mutiny there is order,
chaos is a kind of order.
It is a disorder....

There is a poisonous air,
that has ruin many at heart,
darkened souls and sold to the devil.
The prophesied times are with us.
It is not going to happen...
It is happening!
and the air will thicken still,
It will scare and unsettle those of us without belief
It will waken the beast,
It will call the heavens,
and I might as well begin,
to start buying my freedom,
in better advice,
with a surer foot!
Start taking the poisonous air,
slowly,
puffing,
sipping...
and getting my high.
so that a painting become liquid
those we love become vivid,
and what passion I have become written
like poetry, the poisonous air it is.