Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled
to fight for what’s strictly theirs.
Their lips spit firestorms and they speak deluded
insight.
We are at war with ourselves. We are at war
with the colour of our own skin.
We are at war with what is right; fighting
our way out of a plight.
Our complex, strong, and oh so inequitable
minds emulate backbones loaded with sharp objects.
Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled
to fight for what’s strictly theirs.
Why be happy when I can be thrilled making
you dejected?
What is yours is not yours. It is mine and I
will assassinate for it.
Why be rich when I can be rich making you
poor?
Triumph is appealing to the eyes of those
whose efforts are instinctively futile.
Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled
to fight for what’s strictly theirs.
Brown bread and butter are not enough to
those who are unschooled.
Scold poverty, and goodness and mercy shall
follow you.
School your enemies, and madness and
mediocre shall comfort you.
Uncouth behaviours reap more riches than the
efforts of the prudent men.
Winners are at war; belligerent and compelled
to fight for what’s strictly theirs.
Hunger has reached far deep; it’s entrenched
on the grounds of resentment.
Corporate passages are unoccupied, our
brothers are demanding what’s not theirs on the streets.
School doors are closed, our sisters lie in
wait for answers in clinics and hospitals.
The Gods are confused. Our mothers and
father are shunned. Why is our earth in flames?
Happy read!
