Taboo Poem by Nora Jamal

Don’t tell me, you’re taking my money to
Hand it to the puny.
I know all that goes about,
You play with money that doesn’t count.
You think it’s your right
to take what comes within your sight.

How you don't fret that your people aren’t fed!

Have you not heard of the oppresses?
Or are you so shadowed by your treasures
Yet you are not ashamed of your foul fame
And yet you walk with delight like its some game

How you don't fret that your people aren’t fed!

How you eat till your about to burst
While your people are dying from thirst.
Keep in mind that this is your ecstasy
Your share of fun will shortly be sympathy
This limited bliss is yours for now
The next however, will surely be ours.


THIS IS DEDICATED TO THE UNFORTUNATE