My Muse is Black today!..
She is black today…
She weighs upon my chest
words that make no sense,
Much nonsense put on paper
with the many blip-blips to censor
dark expression flowing from a broken centerMy muse damns me to this inspiration,
Choke-filled with life’s putrid manifestation
Vexed from the stings of bites not felt
yet heard and seen…I am ANGRY! because its Death for breakfast,
War and Anarchy! My pain is palpable- come- cut,
taste with me- This muse is ours,
Awakenings to life’s woes she showers us constantlyEven in the comfort of home, exposed
by the media drawing my attention to the next bomb
that explodes, Reports of wars-disasters and poverty
“Oops! This just in, more fatalities…”
Fake- ass governments and their bullshit policies,
Resolute terrorists making God seem the enemy…Her essence causing these scales fall- BUT resiliently,
For lies will always be sweeter than honesty, now
lying naked to the truth and left questioning,
Existence!… is it Hell or is it Purgatory?
Tag: New York City
Beggar Girl
Different lives, different locations;
But sharing that same condition… A beggar girl’s destiny.
Born into penury, her pockets she fills with her plea
“Oga gimme change na!
Madam help ya daughta!
Daddy I beg hep me!
Mommy gimme wata!”
As a child her innocence is her might,
Her youthful smile and laughter her charm,
With pure resilience she disarms her passerby,
Attaching herself to her prospective financier
this small frame with teary eyes lets out her angelic cry
“Oga gimme change na!
Madam help ya daughta!
Daddy I beg hep me!
Mommy gimme wata!”
She grows older; begging her career
but the older she gets, the less her financiers
Her innocence is lost with age, a woman is on the rise,
Not many pity a wondering girl in her teens as she gives off her daily cry
“Oga gimme change na!
Madam help ya daughta!
Daddy I beg hep me!
Mommy gimme wata!”
In some stories, on the streets she becomes a woman begging for her bread,
And where begging fills not her pocket, her body is often shared.
Her story is told in most corners of the world,
She is different colours, shapes and sizes yet a common “Beggar girl”.
Her call for aid is made in different languages and most mother tongues,
But here, these are the words I hear so often sung
“Oga gimme change na!
Madam hep ya daughta!
Daddy I beg hep me!
Mommy gimme wata!”
©2011 Festivalking
Festival King 