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Scared of Singing Music and other poems Zephania (Sav) Boro Beatrice
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 I just started
writing three and half years ago by stealing paying working hours, and
came close as an inch to sleeping in Toronto streets.
Now I am one foot off the ground and with a long way to go.
I have written seven books, my last three in pen and ink
and I can't steal any more time to process them
or I will end up in jail or on the street.
Worse, I can lose status in Canada, which I need this moment.
I survive as an artist doing commercial murals for part-time job pay.
I am actually a wildlife artist trying to be a world life artist.
My work is focused on slowing the speed at which we are destroying the world.
Scared of Singing Music
After the family finishes dinner,
they talk the day's gone pickings.
Each song, each already known,
is the study of the day, before the next day,
when one will start to sing like a bird at sunset.
Then, there are the neighbours and the others,
and they will start to sing, too.
And the whole village will sing,
and the forest will sing.
until silence, the weapon of destruction, comes.
Now, good voice is for money.
It is the freedom to preach joy.
But at home, the children have to study
and silence is for the tired taxpayer,
scared to sing music of joy, or even listen.
Skin and Shapes
It is intolerance to those who have no power,
to the poor and the animals,
to those who need no idol richness.
It is destruction of other human lives,
of lives not yet understood,
of the world that possesses no other ground.
It is a history that is old in the mind,
but that your lives have barely started to know,
and that was already over-lived when you started.
It is told in the speed of change in scenes,
of memories left behind in lonely disgust,
of counting human skin and shapes.
It is felt when you are pushed and pushed,
and there is nothing you can do
to prize the flesh machines to stop.
I Know
This song is, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know, I know,
Oh yes! I know.
Then, why are we still fighting?
Why are we so far from land on land
or the only place where we will hear, see, talk,
or ever be, the only space that can be paradise?
Oh yes, I know.
Children of heaven living in red fear,
working for when things will be right
like the blue flashing images of paradise
that amount to, that enable, that leave time for...
Oh yes! I know all there is.
I know!
Be Careful
It is called an easy solution to solving problems.
Be careful of the children who turn into thieves.
Be careful of the children who grow to carry weapons.
Be careful of the children who learn to destroy other cultures.
Be careful of the children who become idol worshippers,
leadership following, with eyes blinded.
It is not an easy solution for unchanged environment lovers.
Be careful of the forests that used to be there.
They are dying faster than minds can be changed.
Be careful of those machine drivers.
Their focus is controlling the machine, rather than in doing.
Be careful of their leaders' minds.
Their nature can not change you to this.
Be careful to listen to the world.
Be careful of burning everything to nothing.
Be careful of the much you have missed.
Be careful of wasting your energy
by making something to nothing for nothing. |
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Date Submitted:
2001-07-24 00:00:00 |
Copyright Information:
Copyright © Zephania Boro Beatrice, 2001 |
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