Transcription
Bruised
Thy soul pieced unpeaced
My hope uncoped, unceased
The dread of winter to freeze
The scorch of summer without breeze.
Th heart folds that have creased.
Burdens talk tolls to have pieced.
They don't, won't be smilin', funnin'—without reas
They'd batter so I'd be less desensitized to displease
Cruel and plural, my scars
Placed in poverty's rubble rural, stained by war!
How'd I walk a smile
They've tried to take the sum from "how" to disdain my mile.
Severely weathered the years by far.
In hopes I'd wither, shed a fear and not star.
I've bettered from the crawls I've filed.
Better, because I'd not let them steal the positive from the profile!
—Wm. Irving, 2001
Struggle
Vaults of blood and sorrow that sour tomorrow
Souls disminted to hollow so we wither and wallow
Safe minds of slavery and poorest poverty
Bodies washed upon seashores, heinous crimes to demerry when you
flip back pages of centuries.
Tear-filled eyes and hearts of African royal sorts
Can't repartee the fort—for we were, are—as will be
regal without abort
Taken from thrones and home
Forced to build America—yet limited to
Where we can roam and not allowed to own.
Told many tales laced with their lies to ail and dehigh
Heavily polluted the real truth that lies in hope's escalation
We'd not try!
We'll crawl to walk, to run!
—Wm. Irving, 2001
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