Poetry

There are many facts in history
of people both ignorant and wise;
at times I look with incredulity
at how people multiply to rise

having as many children as they can do,
with diarrhoea, living in gloom,
with blown up bellies where food run through,
living in the very red-brown dirt in doom

without a look of hope in their eyes
where president-for-life dictators govern
with an iron rod, not hearing weakened cries,
while for civilization, for food they yearn;

where platinum, gold and copper mines
are sold to the Chinese, are from the country apart,
while parts of Africa goes into total decline
and to make a living is extremely hard.

Does this poem of mine offend you?
Unfortunately I do not deal in lies,
unfortunately these facts are very true
and to some people it’s no surprise

as AIDS, poverty, pestilence runs as a black tide
that comes in unstoppable waves of pain
form which very few of the poorest people can hide,
as far too many deaths happen again and again

and from this destruction very few get clear
while for something better they constantly crave
as their daily lives are always lived in fear,
as far too many go to a very early grave.

Still people multiply to rise under blue harsh skies
in far too many numbers, to never be free,
from lives that many of them do despise,
from lives lived in constant poverty.

[Reference: “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou.]