The booming voice of tyranny
The mighty in our midst cowered into submission
Our young hearts bleed
As we endure, reproach hang heavy on our necks
With a past muddied in lies and shame
Those we revered, our present soiled
What future; all but stolen
Our land is fertile and very much so
Yet our silos loom high in emptiness
In the days of plenty, our children yet famished
The uncircumcised Philistine rages on unabated
Potbellied gluttons; their hands rub in glee
As they stash our wealth in foreign lands
What shall be done to the man who kills this Philistine?
5 February 2021
Great anger bro. Ours is state of self induced hopelessness due the entitlement syndrome. Like everything else it will come to pass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Our land is fertile but our children face hunger.. the cruel fate! Who is responsible? ? A thought provoking piece! !