The Cry That Will Judge Poem, by Francis, at My poetic side

If things got expiry date

Then let my tears dry

Out of their graves they cry

Justice, justice, where is your jury?

Gunshots in the morning bandits in the evening

Before they know how to trudge

Young men falls quiet in red pools

No place to call a home and no food

Some wander in unknown places

The last enemy knocks no one survives

Naked and without hope

Kwashiorkor eats them

Media houses are attracted

Rusty blades devour young girls

Bleeding , bleeding , the land is polluted

In foreign streets the cry is the same

Those with black skins are inferior

Their spray is bullets and their water is blood

Filed and forgotten cases, the cry

Cancer is in our cells the racism

Before their knockers are fully exposed

Sisters are caged in prisons of prostitution

Like doormats they are used and damped

Money in their pockets but souls in graves

My heart bleeds.

Comments +

L. B. Mek February 20th, 2023 05:30
'Rusty blades devour young girls'
for those that realise
the pure Horror of these words
that in 2023 modernity, such
despicably barbaric inhumanity
is still being enforced
on young defenceless
girls
can only fuel our rage
at existence's depthless pits
of injustice...
(great write, dear Poet
it's so important
that we utilise our art
to scream loud
on behalf of those
who've had their volition
horror, stunned
into subservient dissonance)
- Sakwa FrancFebruary 20th, 2023 06:52
  Thanks LB Mek for your time ... I cherish and honour you
2781 February 20th, 2023 07:45
But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies.

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.

The Cry That Will Judge