Poets they say are crazy

Folks with minds muddled up and fussy.

Yes, history is a word in a line

With which poets dine and wine

Thoughts their ingredients

Emotions their fuel. Now, patience.

 

Once upon a time heard a story of slavery.

Starts with captivity disguised as freedom

Then vile penetration of a kingdom

Then captives were led captive; end of the tragectry.

 

Two worlds collided but truth be told one suffered it all.

And did you care to know people bear their world in them?

Have you seen branded bodies laid in piles

Stuffed beneath a cabin

heaped together and crowded up

Body smeered with feaces, smelly; sickly?

Now, that's a world someone had to bear.

 

Well, power corrupts and in absolute models.

Utmostly, the process becomes damned, absolutly.

The world's all viles and vices

But you could always expect a turning point around the peak

One that would speck the air with cry of revolt.

But should freedom be war?

Much thought given, slavery compliments war

Tit for tat; we could just say

What goes around comes back in manifold measure.

 

Branded bodies wreckes the ship,

Then, pops up an equivocational truth;

All bodies float, no hue to that.