Mayday mayday, the cry I hear everyday,
The cry that never leaves the lips of the innocent.
The cry that never goes beyond the ears of the high and mighty.
Who would be the pallbearer?
Who would be the decibel of this deafening silence?
The words that were never formed now haunt our reasoning,
The cries that were never heard now play secret chords on our conscience.
The sleep that stole away our sanity now beacons us to dream on,
Our morning light now stand as the only hope for the new hunger-games.
The foul smell of sour hearts hovering over our lowering ego...
Mayday mayday, the cry that is never heard,
Who would be the bearer of bad news?
Who would seek the total recall?
Mayday mayday, the cry I hear everyday from the lips that grew mute from the frustration of loot .
Mayday mayday,maybe today, maybe we will understand the new phase of poverty...
Maybe we will understand why the silence of our hearts are so petrifyingly loud...
Maybe we will see just how poor some people are that all they have is money...
Maybe, just maybe “Mayday mayday” will be the silence that breaks our hearts everyday.
Mayday mayday, maybe it is everyday.
Happy mayday, happy workers day.
Yours truly.
Mercy Patrick is a multipotentialite, skilled photographer, creative writer and spoken word poet.Outside the professional scene, Mercy Patrick is a song writer, idealist, resource person with unconventional methods for youths struggling with their personalities, a rapper, story teller and a rusty acoustics player. 
2 comments:
Awesome words.... Really inspirational... May God bless ur talent more and more.... Amen!
Amen and with your support.
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