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This poem opens a hideous wound on the body of reality.

Poem: Under the armpits of reality


In every street of life

Children are playing

Under the armpits of reality

Not fed or groomed

Not guided or nurtured

They are debris under the armpits of reality

It’s not the smell of underage unhygienic habits

I am worried about

It’s the smell of a world that is undergoing moral decay

It’s the smell of a cancerous tumour called selfishness

That we should all be worried about

It’s the unhygienic thoughts that hovers in our minds

The loss of our communal responsibilities

The decay of our communal relationships

The degeneration of our moral fibres

Have led to our children dying of hunger

Our children being raped and abused

It’s the symptom of a dying breed of humanity

We are slowly being stripped of our human ways

And a new kind of humanity is spreading

A humanity that is devoid of any moral and ethical consciousness

A humanity that is lacking in the ways of the Truth

A humanity that has been punctured by the thorns of wickedness

Now humanity is infested with lies, deceit and recklessness

It’s not too late to undress our ways

And address our short-sightedness

We should come back to the manuscript of life

And weed out all false teachings and economic projections

We should delete the philosophy of individualism

And curb the spread of materialism

We should pour ourselves onto the carpet of life

And reawaken the spirit of togetherness

We should bury our wicked appetite for money

And carry ourselves to the pedestal of hope

We should unbutton our hearts

And allow the Light of God to spread

It’s our collective consciousness

That should be filled with Love

And we will see the streets of life

Full of well-fed children

Children with no scars of war or abuse

Children who are full of happiness

Our beautiful children


©Kenneth Maswabi


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