A poem by David(girson1)

SONS OF THE SUN

"I shall" is all they use to say,
Silence is what we see there after.
Given them the only inheritance we have,the inherited voters card.


But yet they inhibit our success and joy,by injecting to us suffering,pains and misery.
With their sweet and inimical lies.
They initial our paths of tougher days,
Forgetting that we are translaters of their dreams and carriers of their burdens.


With innurnerable lies again,they visit,just after four years of comfort.
Coming back with their pot belles to seek the votes of the suffering skeletons.
Inscribe "vote for me"on their air conditioned cars,
Which never mind the death traps for roads.
We sweat blood to download a good life for them.
Is only after four years,that they realize,they have people to visit.


Yet we are strong,
With motive,with vision and with mission.
Hungry and desperate for a brighter day.
When the sun itself will shine on us.

by David(girson1)