Street Preachers (a poem)

spiritual growth – i used to be preoccupied with it

maybe i still am, fixated on flaws

all the ways i fall short of a standard

even saint francis couldn’t meet

on the streets, i’m incited by insights

from preachers who peddle notions

of salvation & give me holy books

i peruse by glow of lava lamps

in the comfort of compounds

where i keep my secrets

& share my miseries

(Photo by Mark Fletcher-Brown on Unsplash)

Music of Democracy (a poem)

dance in the street, move to the music

of democracy – our long national nightmare

is over, we’ve been chopped to pieces

by a man filled with grievances –

we’re hoping he fades away

locked in his gilded towers

removed from power

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