Noises everywhere,
The screams of women
And the whistles of men.
Children terrified and bewildered by
the acts of their mothers and fathers.
Our forefathers are engraved with sorrow
And bitterness as the struggles of liberation are barren.
Darkness is impressed with our destruction as
The promise land was handed on a silver spoon
And we choked from greed and died by our foolishness.
We were wise before our own eyes,
Robed our souls light
And we became generational thieves.
Mediocrity is our standard of death
And immorality is our value to sustainable our death.
We pride ourselves in waking one another with brutal words,
But honestly we post-mortem our bodies so we never wake.
The city is under the protection of
Our curses so no blessing shall pass through
As we await the the revelation of waking up to
A second death.
Rest in peace in the land of broken dreams
City of the dead.
A good start with a nice poem, Mfiso. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A poignant rendition elegantly brought forth in persuasive expressions with conviction. An insightful poem. Thanks for sharing Mfiso.