Love Until It Hurts Poem by stephen ifill

In all honesty, assuming such,
It would appear, had we chosen to hear,
Those drums, which spoke to our souls,
From those hills, which seem to control,
The music which made us dance the night away,
Yet brough us back into sight,
Of the new born day,
Only, to take us back again,
To gyrate our wide hips, and
Pout our red rosy lips,
Heave our full breasts,
Roll 'em on our lover's chests,
And grind our suple backsides,
Which should be, of course, reserved for our lover's behind.

In all honesty, assuming such,
We made our mistakes along the way,
We were slow to notice that brighter day;
Though we chose to toil, certainly not for pennies,
But for the bulge of our pockets,
Since money, appeared to be being given away;
And wow, not to mention the bulge of our crotches,
To the ladies, of the night,
To the concubines, wow, ain't she out of sight,
To the casinos, yes, it's gonna' be my lucky night,
To the horses, dogs, humans, who or whatever?
Would put up the good fight,
And while the good fights were raging on the stage,
Their charges chose to be otherwise engaged.

In all honesty, assuming such,
Why was the food on my table sometimes so scarce?
Why was momma crying, with blood oozing down her face?
Why wasn't big brother ever coming home again?
Why was big sister getting so fat?
Why did the gentleman seize our furniture?
Why do we no longer have electricity or running water?
Why are the neighbours saying unkind things about us?
Why are my classmates not playing with me?
Why can't I go back to my school?
Why are the police vehicles patrolling my street?
Why did the priest come to pray with my family?
Where is my dad? Why must I cry myself to sleep?
I miss him so, so much.

And the drums rolled on,
And the music sailed through the night,
And into the bright morning sky,
And we danced and we swayed,
As the oildrums shed their black gold, oil,
To be turned into musical instruments, par excellence,
By men of true genius, and rhythm, and courage, and grit, and at times, true rage,
One great bard, called it, rhythm to sooth your soul,
Another said, life is a stage, and we are the actors,
So despite, the challenges,
And the struggles which still abound,
We shall dance the night away,
Since every man, woman and yes, child,
Must have their say.


September 29 2014(c)