Who’s skin care you? Who’s voice care you? A Po' Poet's Poem

POOR correspondent - Posted on 18 June 2010

All my life, in my life, the afterlife even, you only see it.

Sometimes, most of the time, all the time, it’s all you choose to see.

Every direction I tread is your dread.

A sentence from my mouth shifts your mind to go south.

Who’s skin see you? Who’s voice care you?

My image, a blessing from above,

Cursed, hissed, and hounded by you below.

Truths spat from my very mouth

increases the bloodbaths spilled by your pen.

Envy of my image, a life you liked, a life you lack,

A soul you never stole.

Who’s skin see you? Who’s voice care you?

Methodical measures of my magic in past occupations,

an academic health hazard to your ego.

Handshakes holding no warmth within them.

Hugs bringing wounds to my back for a tomb you intact.

Who’s skin see you? Who’s voice care you?

Walks I take with women, no color comparison to my own

seethe the sorrows of your own internal indifference.

Talk I take with them attracts your ear, far and abroad.

Who’s skin see you? Who’s voice care you?

Cultures you see as cults.

Declaration of Independence, acquitted.

Declaration of Inter-Dependence, convicted.

Welfare vs Wealth-care wars. Cages are ceasefires to the poor.

Voice to the Voiceless, a scrutiny to the stingy pocket.

Tireless eyes to the lives you seek for claim to fame.

Feet fearing it’s own walk with different shoes.

Bled the same by birth, shed apart by death………..


“No matter how sexy a lie can be the ugly truth always shows.”

Marlon Crump
Monday, June 7, 2010;



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