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The mumbling of their stomach and the weakness of their strength.
I could obviously read them; their confused thoughts written on their fore-head,
The sweat of survival which stood around their neck
and the hope which their eyes couldn’t reach.
I can hear them,
Their screaming pass and the dirtiness of the crowd in their head.
I could obviously read them
the strength they labored after losing their right to human wickedness.
They were the victim of persuasion
begging the friendly foe for life.
I can hear how their tears rained an ocean that flooded both the nude and shelter dreams they aimed achieve.
I can hear them clearly,
barking God with screaming that could pause heartbeat.
They have died in their living
They have lusted in their loving
They have buried their destiny
They have mildly grew wild
They have shout like jingles
They have rant a prayer
Which, I could hear them, so clearly.
Their voice is the grumbling of my belly,
Their disaster is the picture is see daily,
They are my imagined siblings
cutting the wound of my heart deeply.
Oh! I have known them too badly,
I couldn’t reach them in a hurry,
My ears is tired of talking.
Lame
Blind
Deaf
Dumb
And those lurking around the homeless street begging alms.
They are my imagined family,
They are the voices I hear,
They really cause me despair.
Mused©
Full name: jumoke adesewa olaogun
E-mail adress: olajumokeadesewa@yahoo.com
Category: Poetry
Facebook Username: jumoke adesewa olah
From The Author: I am mused.
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