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»SOLD (Sounds Of the Living Dead)«

by Abdul Milazi, April 14, 2016

Johannesburg sings the beauty of our lonliness
The night's heartbeat as fake as the hanshakes exchanged
Ribbons of headlights coarse through the veins of the city
Where we die in search of a better life we left behind
The night whispers its screams from deep within us

We stand on the edge of consciousness
Not far from death
Our breathing has become our only reality
Where Prada preditors wield the sceptre
And unborn babies suffocate inside designer labels

Humanity lies on the pavement dying
Her vision going in and out of clarity
Selfie takers rush towards the carnage
To capture their wrecked souls for social media immortality
I too was there
Never mind the dead body in the background
Don't I just look pretty in plum pink?

Dead people don't interest us
Unless they die in a Ferrari wearing Ferragamo
Humanity lies on the pavement still
She bled the last drop of her blood into the gutter
While paramedics were taking selfies

Written: April 2016
Tags: Ironic Life Philosophical Sad Social

The © Copyright to this poem is owned by the author.
Published by writerslounge.net on April 14, 2016 under courtesy of the author.

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