Colored (Richy)

Them,
Money, work, money, labor,
Them,
labor, land, own nothing!
Them,
Who built this nation?
My forefathers were here first,
Toiling in search of their thirst,
Selling all glitters that are dust,
Greedy maniacs’ of the past,
Destroying earth to its crust
Everybody pollutes,
And to those high boots,
May the con one have the shoots,
and take slaves; those brutes!
Dine with them,
Hold their stem,
World war shame,
To music, entertainment, same,
To their forefathers; it was a game,
Ahh! Them.

This is Richy’s Poem. Click on the provided names below to view other Notable’s content
Bard Mwendwa’S Poem
Lucky’s Poem
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