Fear Of Freedom
They fear from afar
The freedom denied to them
Made cold iron bars their home
Darkness their daylight
Made soft hands cruel
Eyes twisted
Hearts cold
Vented rage and spleen on corners of hyde park
Stood erect and hovered over passers by
In servile anorak and worn out jeans
Put the P back into' Proliteriat'
The M into Messiah
Made a 'name' out of 'prophet and preacher and seer'
Talked red Red,
Flushed with cheeks full of roses
Preaching marx and hope for the chained masses
You talk of liberty
Of hunger
Of crusts of bread
Of stale words and stagnant water
And endless death
There is 'no hope' you preach 'no hope of freedom'
Just the thought of it makes you run for your life
Back into your safehouse full of' possibilities'
Theories and lies
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poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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