by
moriba sababu
listen to their voices…
as they permeate the air with a brand of music
cognizant only to the youthful ear…
listen to their voices…
as they eclipse beauty in exhibitionist clothing
more striking than the colours of the rainbow…
listen to their voices…
listen…
unplug your radio…
turn off your television…
the news is all around you
there is no need for the packaged
allegorical innuendoes of
CNN… BBC… NBC… CBS… ABC…
tune into reality instead…
for today with puppy eyes
and thirsty brains
they gather around teachers in schools
while tomorrow they may dance around
our nation’s tomb…
listen to their voices…
listen…
is it not the torturous echo off our own…
when we too walked towards the mountain of adulthood
begging to be heard above the endless croaking of frogs…
listen to their voices…
not use them to extend our own
as we became a virtual extension
off a wooden generation…
listen to their voices…
listen…
don’t dismiss them like a nuisance wind…
it is a hurricane…
and we all reside in the eye…
listen to their voices…
listen…
listen…
or they too may commit suicide
like you…
and I…
© Ralph Boothe
November 11th. 1998
Wow…” listen to their voices” I got tears reading this and seeing the relevance of what is happening now and in 1998 when you wrote the poem. There were so many lines that spoke to me, and I enjoyed how you articulate them in your poetry. Thank you for bringing my attention to this beautifully written poem, Moriba.
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Thanks for reading, and letting me know how much you appreciated what I had written so many years ago… and the relevance of the song you introduced me too: ‘Wash it all away (Explicit), by Five Finger Death Punch, proves to an alarming extent, that we are still not listening…!
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You’re welcome! It was a breathtaking poem to read. I don’t think that we will ever listen, sadly. Everything is about personal agendas and financial gain…hidden intent and otherwise. I just hope my children’s children and beyond do not suffer because of all of the destruction. I grew up in a time when you could play until the street light came on, and the only catastrophes were natural disasters, like tornados and ice storms.
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I love this line – “ puppy eyes and thirsty brains” – I’m looking at the passionate and more driven time of my youth. I should in fact listen to those who I once resembled more.
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What you say is so true usfman, with time so many of us have become what we most abhorred in our youth… we have become a catcher of those who killed our Spirit, and today are intent on murdering the Spirit of today’s youths… the cycle must be broken, so a new, and fresh wind can blow…!
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* caricature
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Avoid cynicism at all cost.
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Your poem is wonderful and interesting and worth thinking about. You have a wonderful talent. I really like it!
💕😊 Rosie
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Lovely poem! A great poet you are. Yes we must look at them, those going to adulthood. I cannot say much but this is a first poem I have read about such an important issue!
Glad to follow you🙂
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Thank you for giving more than a glance of my words in pixels… I too shall shall be following in the wake of your words… and listening…
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Such a good poem! Excellent meaning, well written 😊👌
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Thank you…!
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Overwhelming. Such true and obvious words…
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Thank you…!
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Those last lines are truly haunting. Loved the poem.
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Thank you…!
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try and read the novel you will like it a lot
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I’ll try… and thank you for coming by…
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A beautifully crafted poem with a profound message. Good one ☝️
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Thank you…!
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How beautifully worded, awesome 👌
unplug your radio…
turn off your television…
the news is all around you
there is no need for the packaged
allegorical innuendoes of
CNN… BBC… NBC… CBS… ABC…
tune into reality instead…
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Thank you…!
🇯🇲🏖️
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