Fools, aren't we

A beggar sits on the curb waiting for
A piece of bread, hopefully more
To hide and keep in store
For the cold days that bear the rage of Thor

On the other side is the muffled sound
Of a boy giving his mother the benefit of doubt
That someday she’ll be back
But for now, she is nowhere to be found
And his sadness will become profound

Fools, aren’t we?
We can cross the sea
And we can turn the world into debris
But we can’t help thee
Those who can be

Better than you and me

Months later and it’s still the same
The beggar is there, along with his bane
The boy is older, but there he’ll remain
Waiting for a mother who never came
But his hope is something you cannot explain

Fools, aren’t we?
All this life but we
Aren’t even close to being esprit
We look down at the people, grimly
Thinking we are better, thinking we are nobility
Oh the calamity!

Years later and the street has changed
The beggar is dead, no longer pained
By the hunger and the hate
Those people sustained
Along with a look of disgust, unashamed

But the boy is a man now
His hope is lost and so is the vow
He took to wait for a mother who did not allow
Her heart to accept a son who never knew how
To live but learned how to bow
To the people who condemned thou

Fools, aren’t we?
Yelling at our children, insensibly
“Stay away from them! They have the flea.
They are filth, every one of thee”
But the man was human, wasn’t he?
Just like you and me

We are fools to think we are different
We are simply delinquent
We are fools, proud to be eloquent
We refuse to help the unfortunate and be benevolent
Instead, we watch them starve
And become creatures simply malevolent


Life After Birth

When we’re born, we cry, as if we know what’s in store for us.
And life, well, it starts preparing its list of misdeeds for us to endure.
It starts preparing its schemes and tragedies along with a couple of laughs and endless tears.

But first, before all of that, we learn to walk, excited to start the journey.
We learn to talk, excited to be heard.
We learn the alphabets and start forming the words.

Then, pain pays you a visit.
Only six years old and you witness harshness from the man you first loved.
Something you don’t understand at first, but then it haunts you throughout the journey.

Few years later, the man is away.
You find happiness, but you don’t understand.
Ten years old and hate develops.
The woman looks down at you, but you turn away.
The happiness fades as confusion takes over.
You miss the harsh man and hate the loving woman.
Clarity has no place in your world.

Then, the man is back and fear fills the space.
Fifteen years old and pain is greater than your age.
In the house, peace finally finds its place.
As it leaves you with emptiness.
The man remains there, along with the woman.
And now, you hate the both of them and you just don’t know why.
You spend nights crying and thinking, trying to understand.
But the confusion is impossible to beat.

Nineteen years old, and you’re finally away.
Whenever you go back, you feel the pain.
You cry, but you’re used to it.
You’re used to that part of the night.
And the darkness? Well, it has become part of you.
It has become your life.

This is the life after birth…


So this is my first post. I just created this blog, and I have no idea how to make it work. I’m an aspiring writer, and I want to get my name out there, so that, when I’m finished with my book, it won’t come out unnoticed. I’m trying to create a beautiful site so that it can generate excitement around my writing.
Part-time designer, part-time writer… I live for creativity and innovation.
Poetry was a self-discovery path. I wrote my first poem without realizing what I was actually doing.
I either write every day, or I happen to write once per year! Yeah, no balance whatsoever.
Read my blog and enjoy.
Cheers!