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King Nov 2018
Dark dirt and darker skys
The only light of the pale moon to guide me
This tranquility, forever in this
Realm of dying, deceased, and nevermore to be

I, am the scavenger
With my *** I search
Through decaying birch,
Oak, trees, leaves, plants of all

My goal is the vessels
Of the deceased animals
I collect the ends of their stories
The periods at the end of their sentences

Bones, brittle and left behind
Accompanied by flesh
Decaying, rotting, demolished by
The cycle of mortality

The end of one story
Safely kept in my bag
Forever remembered
I hope they thank me
We, the voice of the most oppressed,
Work in the profession remaining the most humble,
Throughout histories, as slaves our lives still remain tumble,
With our strangled necks, we are deliberately suppressed

For the centuries, our voices remain unheard,
Like a weeping fish at the sea,
We are treated zombies at the rush of a blood,
Collecting by hand, the human society’s poops & pea

Things for us got intensely worse,
We work as a group with an isolated curse,
For our livelihood, go into manholes as bare-bodies
Mostly get out as dead-bodies

From pathology to oncology,
We are treated untouchables, even by the modern technology
We are the oxygen-offering trees that remain green
Hurting ourselves, collecting excreta making this world neat &clean

With our hand-cuffs we shout and fight,
Rulers remain drunken-deafs to our plight,
Hell with your knowledge, to those who go to college
And keep pushing us to the drainage,
We remain living dead and frustrated, to get our right

When asked about work, we remain dumb and blind,
Fearing the responses to our ***** revelations,
Because humans are unemphathetic and unkind
To get our life some elevations.

Our mind said us “Please think! Please Think!”
When we revolt not to work, societies stink,
We warn, Witness your locality *****,
To our sufferings, if you keep blank & empty.

We are a collective voice,
Representing inhuman humanity,
That keeps the society on a poise,
So raise your voice, with a clarity of choice
To get us work with the utmost dignity!
Manual scavengers is a decent term. People who collect human and animal excreta on bare hands are the manual scavengers. The quality of these people in the south-east Asian countries like India remain pathetic. Their voices are often neglected and ignored by the rulers. They remain struck in a state of vicious circle, where poverty and untouchability keeps chasing them continuously and push them towards this work. This poem is a pain of the masses that had been engaged in manual scavenging for centuries immemorial that continues unlikely, till the present day. Rulers don’t offer the mandatory occupational standards and technological support to the manual scavengers. The motive of this poem is to voice their concerns to help them work peacefully and offer them a dignified life. This poem is written in the style of a ballad.
MsAmendable Apr 2018
We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer
I'm not sure if I posted this before,  but it's have been a while. I wrote this not too long after reading "the Book Theif" which was wonderful
ryn Nov 2017
Throw him scraps from the table.
Feed him tiny morsels off the lean.
Offer him last dregs from the barrel.

He’ll take anything you’d part with...
For his eyes are blindfolded,
and his mouth sewn shut.

He sees yet he doesn’t know.
He fights but he does not say.

He can only piece together so much
from mere dribs and drabs.

So toss this crow some loose change...
Clothe this jackal in complete rags,
And hand this vulture his just deserts.*

He’ll swallow whatever you’re willing give him...



Because he can no longer bear
being left in the dark.
Marisa Hope Apr 2014
Throw rocks at my window,
Hold the boom box up high.
Send me on scavenger hunts,
Make me search far and wide.
Let me be your favorite song,
A tune you can never get out of your head.
Recall your fondest memories,
Those of when we first met.
Take me out to ball games,
Introduce me to all your friends.
I want to be your now and forever,
I want the cheesy moments to last a lifetime.
Take me in now and never look back,
We can have a life we create out of whack.

— The End —