From Our Heads Like Gods We Give Birth To Others
they view us
as the impotents, those with only words to give to the world
we, phenomenal spectators
artists, onlookers, sensitive eyes, unblinking, blood rushing
to eyeballs, noting every thread of reality
in the fabric of this world
unfolding
we notice colors that they cannot see
we smell more than dogs
we see more than what eagles stare
we can be silent, and so enduring
surviving what they accuse us of
crimes that we cannot commit
we are patient and we endure what pain
is there, reserved for us like empty plates
on poisoned food and yet
we still eat them
caring less, on our emaciated bodies
too willing to offer
and if need be, die our earlier deaths
leaving them guilty in the process
we give no births in maternity beds
we do not really populate like they do
but look on our heads
we give births to other like us
in pain in joy in awakenings
and then we have become so many
ultimately winning
this game of posterity, this final battle of survival
in wit in freedom we have won this war
our swords are more sensitive
to make a kill and we devour what they vomit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
