Against all odds (part II)

The pavement dwellers
Like spiders,
Crawl all over the ugly streets,
Tattered and shuttered.
Houses with no walls, but a ‘rich’ ceiling,
Sun at day,
Moon and stars at night,
Their beautiful decoration.


Middle class glassed eyed
With despise,
Stare at their maidens
At the break of dawn
When unmindful of the famine
Sense of bashfulness,
Have a bath on street channels
That carry heavenly tears,
Tears of their suffering
Down to the dirty slums.
The pavement dwellers
Yet go on living
Worries from robbers,
Are un known, non existent.
Those who take pleasure in killing
Despise them,
For they get non-in doing so.


The pavement dwellers
Unmindful of the feminine
Sense of bashfulness,
Pick lice from each other’s hair.
Their young men,
Living on the brink of illegality
Terrorise the passer bys
Their old,
Eyes used to seeing corpse,
Hands to digging graves,
And hearts to endless frustration


This street,
It’s small and ugly but it's home.


The pavement dwellers,
No longer tattered and shuttered.
Same hands, but new minds,
For things are changing
And changing fast.
Soon the dwellers and the middle class,
Before the throne,
Shall be judged,
And all will be equal.

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