Heroes are not soldiers
Coming back home victorious
Not the generals
Strateging and running the war council
...
There was a small boy
In the countryside
Who had a small red BMX bicycle
Kept in the store besides the herbicides
...
Welcome to the black market
Where goods are stored in old baskets
...
Gaia is weeping
Her heart shredding to pieces
Her voice coarse, no more screaming
Her golden and diamond tears, streaming
...
She wears no makeup
Only lip gloss to make her lips glow
She is proud of her hair
Only water relaxes her coarse afro
...
There is this girl
Her body is slender
A wife material type of girl
Her lips so tender
...
If flags could talk
How about flags of our fathers
Aged with time
Faded, to glory and misery
...
Poetry is an act
It changes with time
This poem for example they will react
But I will lose nothing not even a dime
...
One, two…
It’s almost fifty
Like the seasons I come back
To haunt you, while you are sitting
...