Lowlife Diarist Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Ghetto diaries
On the stoop of the bluff
I howl deviations
In a muffled loud voice
To reminisce,
I perceive the Warsaw ghetto
With the punitive conditions,
All we leave for are toils
Stop! Stereotyping
The ghetto cries.
Minority isn't my fate
Ethics now veiled
In this economic hardship
Were comrade against brother?
Sister struggles mother
Only because of bread,
It is so absurd brother fattens
Like a baobab as she thins like biltong.
Solely the diaries inscribed mirrors
The ghetto's social restrictions
For the comrade opt to ghettoize this brother,
Toils I live to endure
Bare footed I trod
Heading for salvation
Of the herd of my own sentiments.
Claiming space for this bred,
In this forlorn global village
Of an insensitive populace,
Striving to attain the goal
In sage as there
Is a thin line between,
Justice and vengeance
Love and hatred
Deems and dreams
Lowlife diarist, ghetto diaries