Bliss

My generation is ignorant of their wastefulness,
they just sit in their shit, refilling their faces;
ignorant of those born without congruent circumstances,
they shape the world to their narrow understandings.
Somewhere in the dark recesses of their repressed humanity,
They mute the screams
Of Congolese children- soldiers, whose ecstasy binges couldn't
desensitize their wounds;
Of the superfluous homeless dwelling in the graveyards of Cairo,
now-living-dead, exhumed;
Of the 90 something Pakistani's blown to bits by sacrificial
explosions today,(Salaam aleikum);
Of the Palestinians watching God partition Zion with his almighty
military-industrial arm, in favor of those who built fortunes on
the dispossession of their neighbors;
Of the fiends in Baltimore's slums, bleeding from their track
lesions, stigmatically itching for a hit of Jesus to calm their
storms;
Of the ethnic irreconcilabilities of Cyprus, whose Blue and Red
blood floods an island from too-separate landmasses;
Of the 3000 Columbians that have died every year, four decades long,
for political power;
Of the second children born in the cities of China;
Of those without a facebook account of their lives;
Of those without readily accessible clean water ;
Of those that might not eat tonight;
Of those without freedom;
Of those without homes;
Of those without family;
Of those without clothing;
Of those without opportunity;
Of those without hope;
Of the words that will remain unspoken.
Everyone deserves to have somebody who remembers their name.
I wrote this for the anonymous masses,
buried in unmarked graves,
and miniature caskets.
I pray you forgive our forgetfulness.