Day in, day out
I see people suffer on the streets, when it’s cold out.
And I wonder if it bothers you, yes you sir
Pretending not to stare
when you see that hungry child crying there.
You say we should protest about policies and bills
when all we do is parade with posters and banners- quick thrills.
Tell me who feeds that dying child’s mind?
Who tells that child that they need to find,
Find deep love inside.
I’d say too few, too few to count, to mention, to find.
So, sit down. Boom, if you will.
Till you find a way to get some action to that lip service, I say
Sit down. Boom. Just sit down.
Don’t judge me for having ants in my pants,
Don’t judge me for making mistakes in my active rants.
At least I get down and dirty- and
aim to pulsate a collective action through my elaborate plans-
my plans to cure that child of a dying mind.
My plan to empower their voice to say “I am”, “I can”.
And believe me, they will conquer.
The poverty in their minds will be eradicated.
The so-called success of protests will no longer be fabricated.
And we will be hungry to get up. Boom. Just get up.
Just get up.