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Oh, you have... scars?*
Your words are drenched in disgust.
But don't let what you see deceive you,
you can't guess the stories I don't tell.
And you can't know if you don't ask.

You should know better than that by now;
my scars are not what you'd expect.
And neither am I.
For someone who thinks seeing me without clothes means seeing me naked and bare.
My heart will never cease to bleed
I'll never stop thinking about the life they lead
My soul will keep aching for them in need
toiling for another half a decade due to them with greed
my eyes will never cease to see their deed
and ponder why did them,God have to seed
my feet are tired of wishing they could go an extra mile
maybe take some gunfire, burn for my country man to smile
my back is broken by the weight of my rage
it's a fire that isn't dying out, will I ever turn the page?
I'm stuck in a labyrinth of contemplation
wondering what other illness awaits my nation
besides ignorance, illiteracy, corruption,tyranny and fear
& much more, yet I still appreciate hailing from mid the sphere
There's a throb rooted deep in my mind
pondering what on earth could make one so unkind
I hope someday to injustice I'll be blind
I hope a day will come when I'll leave behind
these whys,hows, whats and whens like it never was
I hope time heals all wounds as the saying goes
otherwise I believe the cut is deep and infested
  by the loathing for everyone who stood by a government
we badly wanted away and a system we detested
I've tried to have the pain excreted but it's all digested
it's overdue and getting me dizzy due to the ferment
the memory is fresh, the election a forgotten torment
to some but to many like me it's here,it's every moment
it's that grass thatched house at angle theta or beta
it's the agony of the teacher, doctor & whoever's bitter
it's a sting worse than a cut by a banister's wrong splinter
it's the south pole in juxtaposition to winter
it's that malnourished barefooted child battling a jigger
it's the starving,and those plagued by poverty with food but meagre
from my position this wasn't a loss to the opposition
it was a golden chance ripped off the feeble hands of the next generation
a robbery in plain sight,hit below the belt in our fight
my fingers will never tire of typing about this plight
for the crested crane was shot midway her flight
fooled to go to the polls and defiled worse than a little girl
my prowess will but always demand for a piece
about the day we totally lost the beautiful pearl
and thence not a single heart ever knew true peace
not the losers as we have been falsely accused
but worse, not kigundu and many more who were used
For God and My Country Uganda
(please sorry if anyone is bothered... it's just a hard time and only this way can I truly pine)
~

her tidal forces pull me in,
her halo soothes my soul within;
illuminating, ether's glow,
to my cheek her kisses blow;
lunar whispers draw me deep,
beckon softly, bid me sleep!

~

*post script.

tonight's moon, a waxing half, wears a halo full,
above a thin marine layer in my
Pacific Northwest sky.  
difficult to photograph, yet so easy to love!
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