Palm lines erased, fingertips bloated, a broken hip, and blood clots everywhere
Someone’s watching the tentacles spreading, expanding xylos of thinking yet trapping someone in four walls
Slavery
Can you please stop the madness? A heinous horizontal grievance, divided by vertical lines of societal duties,
To slave or to not to slave, For demons and devils.
Evils with their masks and masquerades on, appear, disappear and catch beings bred in violence by their hair.
Lurking behind the shadows, like a silent whisperer in the meadows,
A strange cacophony overpowers the expanding unearthing atmosphere.
Stealing bodies, heavenly or otherwise, one packed in flesh and matter;
To hold in a sophisticated symmetrical musculature,
With hands so soft that a coarse needle can ooze out blood.
The farcical face is not meant to be trapped in a cage,
Pushed to havoc and harems, where people go in and out,
Frowned upon as the spaces display, yet the violence the faces play,
For slaving in sorting the pieces of fitting bones,
Perpetrators and Idolators, all catch the gaze towards bygones.
For they are irreversible in irreligion, for what concocted faiths they come from,
Oppression
Willing to eat and still inflame their bellies, off of the flesh of poor malnourished bodies.
Carve the butter and grease out of the kids as their flesh has all of it often, like your potbelly, swirling like jelly.
The food you eat needs to be metabolized, or else they stick to your guts and bloat you up as you remain half euthanized.
For temporal death has already occurred for them, A dereliction to declare a ruse that glows,
For they own your grown nature to precipitously ravage the crown that someone wears, drag them out and out, spill out your reckless clout, make them squat, and take their crowns off.
In the figurative buff, you come with packed muscles, with the conditional hustle, and do all the painful and untactful things that your masculine breed speaks and reeks, of all filth and garbage as sacrosanct baggage.
Trap yourself into the abyss, enlarge your gazing eyes for hypocrites, for you are one
Not of many, but the primary one, for all you know is to force someone to work and lurk for you,
Jerk and shatter their hearts,
In majestic flights, it takes the beam of light,
For your route to darkness,
As the sun flares its glares so strongly.
You fiercely hit yourself with the glare, turning you into char and gold,
For the remains of you is somebody’s inferior coal.
To be lit till all of it burnt and powered the trains of abode
Like you used infants to enlarge your inhuman road.
(Cosmic Context is a section where I explain my poem a bit more)
This poem is a little difficult to digest as the theme involves human trafficking. In the developing world, still, the most underdeveloped and undeveloped spaces in these countries especially with orphans and impoverished children are captured and then sold off as house help, prostitutes, or laborers to many networking agents that further sell them off to the highest bidder. This poem is all about reflection and looking deep into our own conscience if what is happening is even remotely decent and just. If it is then we need to reassess the ideals of human dignity and a life of self-respect..
Thanks a lot for taking some precious time out of your schedule to read my work. If you like it, you can read some of the other poems I have linked below. I hope you have a great day! Thanks for stopping by!!!
