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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