Mendicants

in poetry •  7 years ago 

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Beaten and battered

Under heat and rain pour

Matted hair as crown,and dotted rags, robe

The eyes is the socket of heart bruises

In claw-hands, a bowl of agony clutched

Knocking door to door of a deaf world

Whinnying for pittance as sustainance

Smitten and buffeted

The Rich's purity and poor's fortune

Yet molested by Goliaths driven by wealth

Mocked by Gauls driven by itch

Lost ghosts wandering the crowded dreamless land

Trailing the tangled tracks of torment

In a rented apartment shared with dogs and flies.

Mother named her sorrow, and her brother pain

They are fingers in a world without hands

Victims of darting butterflies who suck,sip and fly off

But their yellow teeth shines grotesque hope

Of when the roaster of sorrow shall flap its wings

And death,the beggars' longing saviour, shall unmask

For a long walk to freedom

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