Mud-caked boots
Sink into the human roots
Habesha people make their homes
Of sticks and stone
Ancestral bones asleep beneath  
The Rasta prince’s lion throne
Divining water into honey wine
An extra month, some years behind
A sense of time unfettered by
Gregorian design
For here is where imperials in arms
Still fear to tread
But Terrors Red still fed the masses
With some promise broken bread
And circuses of war and bloodshed
Left a union in its stead
It stands unconquered on the continent
A gateway to the heavens
Conjures torrents from the halkan sky
With mighty independence
To remind the lone ferenji
Of its wild zealot prayer
And then at peace it shares its secret
Unrequited love affair

Main road marked on all sides
By small shops
Vendors sell bananas
Banks are centralized and closed
No corporate vulture multinationals
Except the one I chose
To make a living representing
My empire’s softest power plays
The spending, buying, mass consuming,
Wifi access money maze
The neoliberal colonizing
Culture shocking tidal waves
Still ebbing in the rolling hills
And crashing in the daily pills
The vivid dreams dissolve and fade
Digesting final three square meals
And learning what it means to be
A self-sufficient person
Goods and services exchanged
At rates that make my head spin
Topsy turvy circuses
New temples to the excess gods
Converting them as we decline
To little more than human lives
Devaluing as dollar signs

Who have we become?
You rather record a video
as you watch as I drown!  

What morals do we uphold?
Babies in concentration camps,
The government doesn’t call them that..,
The refugees have no refuge
We refute their rights.
The existence of the indigent
causes an uproar, shelters
can only be housed in poverty
stricken zones plagued
with crimes. On 57th Street
people work too hard, the homeless
will depreciate the value of their skyscrapers
the sight out the window
Will be too dark.
And we depreciate life.

Who have we become?
Who do we care for?
Teenager years are now
forgone, cops shoot children
but keep their jobs.
Cops are scared and shoot too fast.

Priests **** boys but that’s fine
the churches are filled on Sundays
because, they still are the intercessors
between Men and God.  So we have
a faithless generation that doesn’t
value life, they are desensitize,
let’s blame it on Hip-Hop,
yet, if you are not vanilla
your pride melts on sidewalks
and the sprinkles that were on
your chocolate are splattered
in concrete floors.


Who have we become,
Our cellphones are a weapons
Of mass destruction, that
that causes sleepless nights,
We rather record a shooting
than call 9-11.
We rather say “not my problem”
I’ll keep going my Merry way,
but Maria lost her son
because no one cared.

The animals are caged
with freedom they become enraged,
trying to find their way
YouTube becomes their only friend,
because in the sandbox of life they cannot play.

Who have we become?
The real criminals, work at the White house.
A suicide letter doesn’t alarm.
The alarm doesn’t sound off,
the notifications alert is off
While this video…I RECORD

This is the path of the walking dead,
that human connection
we traded for Facebook likes;
So **** happens all around us,
and they only way we think to help
is by pressing the recording button
that lets the world know, I was there.


LeydisProse
6/22/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse//