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My eyes donít lie,
look at their slanted features.
And tell me what you see.

Do you see your own reflection?
Or your superiority?
Perhaps we are brothers.

My face is a target for judgment.
So judge me then,
and be swift with it, because I am tired of your words and empty promises.
At least have the courage to spit upon me as your fathers once did.

Does this trouble you?
On Sundays you search for salvation.
Yet youíve smoked enough dope in your lives for both our generations.
No, this is not what youíve asked for.

So place your judgments,
And point the blame.
Your memories,
put to shame.
My weakness is not your strength.
And my blood is not your flag.
Youíve asked for forgiveness,
yet you do not change.

Once again, a finger points this direction.
And I know that it is my time.
So I drift back into shadows.
I am welcomed by silence.




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Comments

The following comments are for "Silent Fury"
by pengster13

woo!
great stuff. if this poem is about america treats the minority, i think you've conveyed it well. i'm a minority myself, but i'm a chosen minority. as always, keep posting!

~k-t

( Posted by: Veruca Salt [Member] On: July 5, 2002 )

Powerfully put
I'd have to agree with Veruca on this one. If this is about the way Americans treat those who are different from the Anglo Saxon majority, it does so with a poignancy and power that borders on rage, while still maintaining the dignity of the speaker. Well written and well said in this time of patriotic hoopla.

( Posted by: Bartleby [Member] On: July 6, 2002 )





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