Shell, ancient mortal,
Cast from sparkling oceans, soul
For your lost love pined.

some people's footsteps are loud
they want everyone to know that they have entered
or perhaps they have no reason to hide
They strike the ground first with their heel
you can always hear them approach

but mine?
my footsteps are silent
I glide across without a sound
no one needs to know that I am here
I have reason to hide
I tread first with the pads of my feet
you will never hear me approach

I ain't young
any more
time has spoken
but I don't deplore

you'll see me
at the dance-hall
in rhythm and rhyme
unfazed at all

I'll be at the village-fair
to taste the latest ware
and admire the ladies
in their best flashy wear

if invited I'll go
to the stage to sing
though not a good singer
I'll give my everything

don't you say to me:
I'm too old and a useless thing
my heart is the green meadow still
I'm as buoyant as the brightest spring!

slavery poetry
civil rights
poverty language
this is strong liberating art
to become soft after crime
rather than prevailing crime wages

I write to save myself
That is the truth
It's only a consequence
If my words save you too