rotting buildings cling to the mountainside
like desperate semi-literates
who sell their minds for pussy
so sure of their superiority
over those who sell their souls for money
dancing to a rhythm of lies, pride and cunning
then crumbling into the abyss

as i gazed in mild contemplation
the old man
his arms thin
his burden heavy
engulfed me with tearful eyes

we walked together to the harbour
gazed together at the trimaran
waved to the captain
"I built it myself.", he shouted
as it skipped the waves
reached for the vanishing horizon
and disappeared into the summer sun

in our poverty, hunger and homelessness
we did not cling to false values
nor sail the lie of freedom

we just stood quietly
without intent or purpose

Poetry by Wumbulu
Read 526 times
Written on 2012-06-05 at 17:40

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh to be that captain! Great work J.K.