Muffled, mugged, misunderstood and now muted.
I know our voices ran like church bells,
To warn about the impending colonisation
And they all stood, comfortable in their inertia,
And with bowed heads turned to re-join their path.
You’re forcing me to oxidise, crystallise and fossilize
My apathy, civility now feeds my micro extinction
The need to focus rises like lava
And what makes little sense is your interest?
Interest in this landscape you always thought barren.
Peace is so ultimately apocalyptic
It turns protected steel to ash
Chars the core of civility
And out of this complacency, bacteria grows
You don’t need acrid oratory
Acid To cleanse my presence.
Acid To terminate my thoughts.
Acid To dissect my soul ,ideology, theology and love.
All consuming we cannot stop the spores
The idle gardener once proud, stands by
And watches the mould grow, mesmerised
The history of what once blossomed, is now bleached.
Yet the tragedy lies here
I am you in four score or less
As your bow weakens and bark cracks
Roots will be consumed by the blind hunger
You will fall from mode, trend and acceptance
Once a proud empire, now shamed and hidden.
The growth forms a movement
The movement casts a method
The method protects the change
And now..am I not a part of this vision?
Bygone hate will be rinsed
Slates will be cleansed
Tools will be stabilised
And new gardens will bloom
Those new masters of flora and fauna once proud of the bloom,
Will too lose interest in their lot
And with backs turned new mould will creep from the dark.
And so occupy my land, my home, my culture.
I truly give this to you freely
And in this hollow victory, borne from putridity
There will be a bright dawn
That will attempt to shine your rusting vessel
And my world?
Well I will be walking in new fields among the accepting clover, wild beauty and sanctuary.
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Pedro Batpoet 