PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You're the living dream of a race:
The fertile womb
Blooming with bounties
The hands of loving care
Nurturing generations
The soft navel of love
Bathing in the sun
The bold strength of blood
Growing roots in my veins;

But your veil of wrinkles
Conceal that prized face-
Other eyes are searching
The abundant wealth in you,
The wealth wedged
In your fat-rich bossom,
And in the secret vaults
Under the canopy of green grass.

~

Your children grow fat
On murder and plunder
Wise vultures fly in
To feed on the spoils
And fly away; later come back
Tenderly, seductively
Into your house, once again
As guests exuding arrogant opulence
To ensnare you into their psyche
With globalization goodies

You offer them honey
Made in your hive
And they make the money!

Then we follow them, like dazed kids
With outstretched hands
Begging for a share of the loot
Before he closes the book.

~

Your children are naughty, too,
They pinch public things, ravish them,
The deficit eats into our very soul,
Have taken toll of our common muscle;
While beneath your womb
There's an undiscovered treasure
Pure like a virgin's uncorrupted treasure.

Perhaps, some day
We will dig into it
Together as your offspring
To scoop better sap
From the treasurous trough!

Your men have mettle in their muscles,
Your women, too, know how
To knead dough, but treasury
Have washed the magic
To draw from your breast
The milk of your soul.

~

Big brother sneers across the round-table
"Beggar amid abundance,
Your mama's breast is bursting
With milk, while you
Prowl the world
To seek aid that that like AIDS chains
Your hand and heart"

But mother, the cynic's sneer
Isn't my kindred's worry
But monetary taps going awry;
So he dines, wines
And sleeps in dignity
Before the bold
Begging bowl.

~
 
Behold the savannah savagery
The sirens and sorrows
The thirst and thunder
The pain and the rain
All recorded
In your hour glass. But
 
Mother of mine, do not grow weary
With the lack of love
In your children's hearts, tomorrow
Darkness will end with the dawn;
The rainbow's
On the blue blinds of the sky
My love for you like the rainbow
Shall break a streak of light
I shall work in the open fields
And fill your bread basket

With corn and coin;
Well fed, i shall spruce up
Your face of wrinkles
With cream cuddled
From the milk of my brows.