THE BLEEDING PEN ANTHOLOGY 37
A life dwelt on merit
My degree, my addict.
My wishes, the nomenclature of high rank
My knowledge, my power bank.
Equality at work in our farms and meadow
Now I fear no more, so my shadow.
Lion out of den to feast
Only on its handicrafts, no more fist.
Let me speak of the ‘nine-teen’ ‘six-tea’
Let me show you my dignity
Let me tender to you how broom works
Let me show you tranquility with my words.
Oh what have we done
Was it differently we were born?
Why forsaking us
Leaving us out in the race to boss
A free butterfly, I love to be
To be restricted not
Non caged_sparrow,my life should be.
The staff of freedom I hold, a meritocratic
Install back the lost fervor and verve for work,
Meritocracy is come to make all work.
Shining teeth or moronic vacuous face
Is yours to defined in all phase.
Have you seen where sons of the land suffer?
That has happened in my chamber
But in the nine-teen six-tea
The chain was loosed from the adversary.
We cry and cry,
We felt punched like tie and dye
Why must we be left out
Because we are sons of the poor lout
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