| poems... warped, degenerate poems which don't scan but what the
heck, I don't care, I was but a child Black Man (2000)
Man on
the street. Black man
You can't
see him
Except
his colour
Black man
fingers extend from a
Black man
hand. His black eyes catch sight of a
Black red
apple in your hand. All eyes turned to the
Black
blue sky. Everything in Blackness
You can't
see him
I came I
saw (2000)
Came for
the goodies. Benefits
Job.
House. Family
Call me a
sponger, but it worked for me
Taxpayers'
money in my pocket
Nice car,
T.V., DVD
Born in
Britain,
Moved to
Canada, you see?
The
Warrior Baby (1999)
Tiny
fingers at the top of an arm
Clutch
the butt of a machine gun
They
tighten their grip
And pull
the trigger
This Man
will be a great warrior
Trudging
through the blood and bones
Deformed
soldiers on display in a war ground
His feet
brush away the enemy, they will
Kick them
down; he will poke sticks at them, a
Kick
again. This time, the mother smiles at her warrior baby
Eyes
which will pierce with deceit
Ears
which shall drink anger
Mouth to
manufacture cruel verses and a
Nose to
sniff manly war and exhale human virtue
His evil
ideas veiled by the skin and bone of innocence
His spine
shall fit
The seat
of a tank
The
cockpit of a fighter jet
The sofa
of a diplomat's office
The
throne of a defeated world
Another
kick from the killer, a reminder
The
mother smiles at her unborn baby
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