Thick skinned, fear will soon take my soul
quicker than the trauma will
if not then the queue of bureaucracy will
The market of divided hands and invisible labor
is not set for someone with frequent memory war
I feel like crying out for mom's heart, sometimes
but her cry for me echoes even louder
crying to reach my short hands
my shortcomings are a life threatening shock
quick as premature ejaculation
short and coming with premiums of rejection
Sole discretion is my purpose in this struggle
milking my blood behind state walls
that serve as stations to my thoughts
Here. Sitting on my survival cup
laughter from backstabs but am muted
"father please hear my sorrowful plea
welcome my soul of darkness
I'll be safe when am resting"
Am still expecting my turn on the welfare state
and there is a community of hungry mouths
expecting drops of my crumbs and coins
so I can wear their badges of "loyalty"
This resiprocal expectation
will cause my respiratory carnage
These expectations are no mosquito bites
I can't ignore the irritation in my blood vessels
they are more itchy than aroused genitals
I have to scratch my thoughts
till they bleed out of blood because
when a heart is broken
sorry becomes just another sorry-word
when a life is gone
R.I.P becomes just another pathetic slogan
specially if one could have done something
at least for the lifetime parental affection
My shyness is a testimony to my honesty
my poverty is a fuel to my generosity
I have skinny teeth, tithes and taxes
will soon emerge upon the first paycheque
Vacancies are just an opportunity for catcalling
reserved for cats with bigger titties
This poem is a loaded firearm
covered with words dunning thick skin
leave before it makes you scream "murder out!"
trying to shoot but the trigger is lost in my heartbeat
trying to rip my chest open, screw my heart
but the unemployment line is cockblocking
Political gamblers betting public funding
on duopoly games in financial markets
while crooks preach in corporate suits
I am mentally dismembered from within
endangered with a vague citizenship
I'm trapped in heartbeats of worshipers
of financial freedom preachers in warships
feeding on the last pieces of colonialism
most believers in independence died broken
Thick skinned, getting harassed by job agencies
Googling: if existence is essential essay
Sitting here on my broken pieces
the pain is sharp and it is oozing daily
Smoking off my life struggles, down to filter
to tame and clear all the worries inside me
filling my lungs and brain with little clouds
If diaper changing and nappy washing
are the only options left on the employment desk
I would still snatch, rip them off the table
Just to fill my cup, I got to be paid
By Lamin Drammeh
Facebook page: Poetry+
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August 11, 2020 03:02
©lamin
L