“Perhaps you’re a slave to your own idea of yourself.”
– D. H. Lawrence
Heard the white people steal
land, children, rights, nights
so I don’t steal.
Heard the white people grab
like forgiveness died,
so I don’t grab.
The scarecrow dressed in white
has so much revenge to do to do
in the lost races that dress
all colours to do to do
I can’t buy that story either.
It sounds like a whip changing hands
and petrifies my lungs again and again
with the sadness of cold people
gone lonely among the crowds.
I believe in that smile we hide in our eyes
with our pandemic covered mouths,
that smile
that smile.
chameleonian times 