Being Invisible

Being Invisible

Invisible, vanish, disappear and again we see
nothing new in all those we gaze upon.
Clearly hidden, disguised and faded.
Once visible now just an evaporated past.
We see plainly, crushed in a can like a peanut,
singing from the inside out. Voices screaming
in the dark shadows of every message heard.
Words sinking, sluggishly down a bloated stomach
from fire-water, poured down a throat of readiness.

Thoughts of a masked Africa, wedged between deaf ears.
Angered by Leaders come traitors. Greedy to find
more ways to exploit, all those they oversee.
In countries so full to the brim with riches, yet
the poor keep struggling. Living without food, whilst
the privileged look on regardless, caring less and less.
Dust eating days, which darken early, whilst they shuffle
in the visible unheard footprints, in the red soil of home.
Blind children playing gently, on paths leading nowhere.

Fascinated in bleeding tears of worried futures, unchecked.
Seeing fallen heroes and heroines, buried in shallow graves.
Lives forgotten by most. All those that never remember the
sights witnessed in fayre grounds of old, now wastelands of new.
The elapsed stretch of nostalgia. Days remembering, better times.
Finally, discovering the sweet taste of shark infested waters.
Bloody pools, with knives running over throats, all waiting to be slit.

Floods of sticky toffee and thick red claret, pouring down the avenue.
Smiling at one another, whilst waiting for the reaper, to once again visit.