Wednesday 10 September 2014

Poetry 2014 Shortlist, Alcatraz Dey


I stand with a white grubby vest and an unused bullet shell on my neck
I kneel, not before the lord, not before the clumsy leader on the wooden deck.
For I have seen fondness in eyes that told me that hatred is a lie
And now searching them in my prison, I ponder where did you truth die?
My nails have dust in them which are almost a decade old
My thoughts are all stale and stumpy and rich men buy it for gold
I do not know what they see in what I write or what I feel about this life
Yet they seduce me into the chains of flattery, alas I know it’s a blunt knife
Leave aside the thought of walking in my shoes, think of wearing my sock
The layer of twinge that follows me and the heart which is now a rock
Every step I place on this uncured earth, I can feel the insult riveting through my core
Every eye that has met me, every soul that has been cleansed, 
-every demon who has showed me the door
Tampered, torn and twirled is my flow when I speak and fight
Nor do they comprehend or feel the ecstasy nor can I throw some light.
I do not blame for you have forsaken me, nor for the guilt you hold
As is said you are the reason the rich buy my thoughts for gold.

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