| By ,
on 08-08-2002 22:58
|
Views : 2784  |
Favoured : 27 |
Published in : , Poems |
I Am tired
I am.
Tired,
Tired of living
Besmirched by lies
Tired of feeling
The hate in your eyes
Tired.
I am.
Mired by falsehoods
Slandered by all
Defended by none
Hated
By everyone.
You tire me.
O! Every brother’s a bomber
Every sister, oppressed
You tire me with
Your tireless quest
to defame
denounce
delude.
how rude!
I’m too short to be threatening
I don’t have a gun,
Never seen a bomb,
Never killed anyone.
We’re tired.
Perhaps one day
My bomber-man brothers
And Hood-bondage sisters
Will rise.
And followed by shifty, untrusting eyes
Will Leave.
because we’re tired of hearing
How a single split second Executive Decision
Saved us all from the terrorist threat of Crimson Jee-had.
We’re aching with tiredness,
So we’ll leave.
We’re upping
Going, Ignoring
True Lies of Delta-like Force
(But Not Without Our Daughters of course)
This rain
This storm,
This Siege
of malice is remarkable,
but not tired.
Tireless, no less!
Like
Nike, riding raging ridiculing
On wings of Air Divine.
Fine.
I’ll look past your fashion sense,
If you look past mine.
How tired you must be
When every time you see
a Hood it’s understood
You must either scream or flee.
Your throat must be hoarse
(from screaming of course)
And O! Your aching feet
(from running from the Hoods you meet)
Must make you
very
Tired.
Last update : 08-08-2002 22:58
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