God! We Are Too Bad! ! Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

I am looking for that guy who always play with his airplane,
in front yard of his mud house where flies sing nice songs
he was so sweet when he talked about blueberries,
sometimes strawberries strewn on his cracked plate

where is he and what is he doing in jungles of fierce warriors,
though he himself one with torn uniforms of his late father,
his grandmother was raped and he was born after nine months,
carrying features of his father and color of his mother

He told he was bold to show his fist in his ghetto,
where thousands as him established their shady kingdom.
booze and weeds are lot to feed young and old,
to be the mule to chase the dream of new world

after every encounter with the lord. he was beaten up,
slightly colored not as white as his raping grand dad,
their grand dads sick in heads, chased after young girls at nights,
a new race was created on the shore of Columbus land

obesity once royalty in Victorian underwear of fifty inch,
not anymore on this land of abundance and availability,
gospel mouthed friend, once in a while emerged as a poet,
where is he now and what is he doing during hunting of hunted..