clifford mate


The Street - Poem by clifford mate

This streets where i grew up,
history is not upheld in this part of street,
everybody knows that rights to freedom of rights is not upheld in this street,
these streets where you can be robbed during day light,
these streets where mothers and daughters are curfew ed to enter their houses before sunset,
these streets where guns are our toys and stray dogs our pets,
these streets where play fields are open grounds filled with sharp objects,
houses in this streets are decorated with cockroaches and other insects,
these streets my home.

These streets where old men sleep with their daughters daughters,
only to satisfy their never ending lust desires,
after nine months an abomination they sire,
cursing the slums with Sodom fire,

These streets have a cursed ground going deep to the roots of fore fathers time,
no moral values because everybody was born out of wedlock,
no fathers or mothers to brig children upright,

These streets where justice is severed by the rich and the strong,
the rich pay the strong to take money from the weak,
making the rich richer while poor die in poverty.

These streets has no rules,
the weak have no room,
the poor have no roof,
the homeless have no food,
these street where i live.

Listen to this poem:

Comments about The Street by clifford mate

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, July 10, 2013


[Hata Bildir]