the feeding

darker then my other poems, I think

 Hooked up to war machines and wires,

Feeding something outside myself with what I covet,

I am selling myself like a drug on the streets, cheap and easy.

 

Why don’t you punish me for a while, take back all

The things you gave me and force my eyes to see

That no, freedom is never free.

 

 

People die everyday trying to speak what I say and they

Are never seen – no funerals or burial pyres,

They are taken out into the alleyways or into empty roads during

Daylight hours and removed,

Wiped clean.

 

Never remembered they are filed under criminal faces – no one knows who

really killed who and the papers are soggy with oil and bribes.

 

I don’t want to reveal what you refuse to see,

But it must be seen.

 

Even if the sights burns you,

Even if the people scream because ignorance is

A poor excuse for a screen.