For My Students: Living On The Edge Poem by babitha marina justin

After Aerosmith

I want to tell them
that the last oranges of the season
which sieve into the markets
are not grown on water
manure or dust, but on tears.
even rain has abandoned them!
winter greens disappear
slowly - we are nearing the edge-
of a great canyon fall
a thousand feet deep, you either
survive not overstepping or fall
into the beauty of the gorge
turn to air, water and earth
and a lightening blaze
in our insipid memories.
I want to tell them
to stop gazing, day-dreaming
to snatch a hockey stick
or a bamboo pole and
go on breaking the glass panes
that come their way
then shatter car windows
glare at riling men, even
slap fresh dung on their face.
I want to tell them
that rage is beautiful
violence is marvellous
it gnaws you from within
if you are calm.
I will also tell them
that my smiling face is death,
having misplaced rage is adultery and
being balanced reeks of
rotten flesh dug out of
the rocky wedges from the river grave