Mother, there is a loud dystopian outcry; must justice die?: A poem 

I hear a placenta knocking at my door 

I always had my lightening amid the vocal sound of silence 

This is more awakening in the sonne et lumiere 

Much of it was the love that I had for you! 

How can I discard the womb of my life for an underbelly of pretentious happiness? 

Spirituality is much my core, and it is your voice rapping at my door! 

Sometimes I lose the lyrics, but I still manage playing the riff 

to an audience that, I understand, is listening but invisible in my vision 

You know now even hard-core scientists are saying that the universe 

has a mind, at least that is halfway to some submission to the fact that it has a soul! 

They are saying it listens to everything that is uttered; should it, then, ignore my penchant for justice 

when a deluded collective is protesting so loudly on the streets?! 

You can see nobody wants to dare their own complacence and comfort 

I can tell you Mother, I will never forget your sworn love and loyalty 

It is my courage that challenges all the smirking disdain of the world 

its intimidation, and my own barely mentioned sufferings 

There are many who preach their falsehoods with the confidence of libidinous shagging 

You can see that truth was always a metaphor, if not silence,  

and when expressed was always denounced as miscomprehended rhetoric 

We know armies of justice are most likely called mass murderers 

And the hard-knuckled perpetrators of injustice love to do the whitewashing of all minds!   

Must justice die Mother, against the caterwauling of all those misguided minds? 

The collective voice cannot fathom, discern, and has no astuteness 

We are belied by the outrage against our convictions, and the overwhelming treachery 

So, must justice die Mother?! You gave me simple wisdom, 

but do you realise that I had a most complex vision even while I was wrapped in swaddles! 

I know there is more character in astute conviction, and it is more profound than all those who bombast their multifarious talents 

Did you, Mother, ever imagine I’d live to call out those rampant misbeliefs and be lowered as a heretic? 

I can’t watch the world go by with the lie, and see them break me and try to make my spirit die!  

So, should I also enforce my will without subtleties, and with warnings of catastrophe, should they think I am shy?