Monday, December 10, 2007

pictures from:
Black teardrop

A mix of blood and dust
Weaved, blended with a mortar
Of agony and abandonment
leaving a hollow mark
for the coming generation
a naked existence
for test of the whole nation
or is it a testimony?

the real notion
the mark it is leaving behind
while pouring
and dripping
creating crevasse and eroding
the face of
my beautiful people

they cry for generation
they cry for salvation
we cried for stature
I’m intertwined with their mixture
Their cry, my cry, our cry
For no body to make do nothing
For some relief

To create do something

But it is an expression
Of the depression
Our soul has endured
For generation
The cry the teardrop
It is not water,
Nor just blood
It is a mixture of our texture
The poison of the nature
Of things, and rulers of the un-fairish
It left a black mark
Changing the origin of the beautiful face to a dark

To the horror of the world,
To the scare of the world
So biased

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