I CAN’T BREATHE by Jesmond Sharples
I CAN’T BREATHE
92%
“I can’t breathe...”
“.... even if I had wanted to...”
Racial brutality
chokes rationality.
88%
“I can’t breathe...”
the ventilator is of no use to the patient,
money talks and the people are mum;
money toils and thought is comatose,
and asphyxiated...
The capitalist greed in the burning of forests
suffocates more than the opportunistic virus...
75%
“I can’t breathe...”
”even if I had wanted to...”
wealth has become affluent,
the earth’s ventilator has been switched off
and cut off its oxygen...
54%
“I can’t breathe...”
SpO2 is decreasing,
our face is cyanosed and pallid
our lips are tight shut
and the evil RNA killer strip continues to reign
in a world of hypoxia and hypocrisy,
a world of amnesia,
anaesthesia...
0%
“I can’t breathe...”
“even if I had wanted to...”
THE RETICENT TREES
The trees shelter
those who seek refuge -
the cicadas,
the cawing jackdaws,
the man who chatters and jabbers –
The trees are mum.
Man has become deaf
to the forests’ lamenting and whining –
it is useless to plant and grow
what has already ripened.
The conscience is torpid –
The trees are mum.
ON MY OWN
I steer
away from stories
and fables...
on my own.
The water embraces me
and protects me from
all chicaneries...
on my own.
I drift and sail
in spite of the sun
setting into nothingness,
sinking into oblivion...
on my own.
On my own.
I continue on my way
towards an eternal horizon
I desire...
On my own.
About the Author:
These poems are originally written by Jesmond Sharples who lives in Pembroke, Malta.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the writer’s.
