We are the watchmen of the street
We are the unpopular populace
We are like a popular song
that never graces the ear;
a corpse flower to you
While you have a sound sleep
engulfed by your soft, big, fat foams
our nights are made sound
by the discordant rhythm of mosquitoes,
while for love your hands are wrapped
around your loved ones
our bumpy, dried freezing arms
are the only shield our children hide in
We are the celebrated…
we are the manure for their pride;
to feed their ego and reputation
the moneyed and mighty,
with our burning dry lips
we compulsory sing their praise;
our stomachs a desert of affliction
yet the flaunt a handful (trucks) of rice on our face
yet gives us a grain to take home
ever promising but like a wild ghost their promises
We are baits in the hands of the opportune
we are the security for looters…government alike;
we are the security without value for their loans
but we are an unsecured security;
while you yet tighten your bolt to ensure safety
we are left to the hoodlums and the dark virus
that sweeps like wild fire across our lands
we are always on their lips but never in their heart
while you race your street; sunrise and sun fall
to let go your full stomachs
we sleep to reserve the remnant in our bellies
we are the most talked about
but never cared about
While you are cautioned to stay in your shelter
and the street be like a dark swampy grave yard
we become the watchmen for you
in days and in night
when the clouds cry so hard and the sun grin we watch
we keep your streets, bridge and slums alive
while you seal your nose for safety
we open ours to breath out our exhaustion
the rustling of our intestine sing us lullaby to sleep
Do you not know yet who we are?
we are the reflection on your mirrors
while you pass our street we smile
to impress you with our weak dim smile
there is no greater courage than that
we bury our pride underneath the rocks
of our vulnerability so we can live
while you wind- up your windows…
our helplessness are brought to bare.
We cross your thought but never stay in them
you miscarry our thoughts
like an unfortunate pregnancy
Show us your empathy we beseech thee
sip a bit from the cup of our grief
may be it bitterness will make you keep us in heart
we are the heart of your street
we beacon you to feed us with your remains
as you hide to your shelter
let our thought remain with you.
Please leave your comment below!!!!!!!
Street Tribe 