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From the book "Islands of Hope"
by albert manipon
helpless,
helpless
we are from civilizations past, generations gone,
mass graves, white crosses, casualties of wars
by men with distorted visions of godship.
now,
we are hungry, dying, enduring unending wrongdoings of sovereigns and consorts,
as fatalistic calamities claim sporadic shares of unexplained carnage.
we are far-flung unknowns imprisoned by mandates of culture and religion,
deprived, suffering lack of discernment, unwilling
victims of non-schooling.
we are children in sweatshops, shattering tender bodies to indulge landed gentry,
ceaselessly subjugated, everlastingly vending our being to a fictional future.
helpless, helpless,
we hope for the apocalypse.
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