HUMAN RIGHTS FIGTHERS
HUMAN RIGHTS FIGHTERS
Is to see and watch.
The hungry of the legs
Is to walk on the ways.
The salivating of the mouth
Is to ask and say-right.
The gracious of the ears
Is to hear and heed.
Rights workers place freedoms;
Emancipating the ways to ply on.
The pointers of the peace
With their sweat stressful.
The callers of the real living
With their games in jails.
Their roles ride on the rulers
To their thrones.
Their faces bespeak
For despotic rulers on thrones.
Jail terms! Detained terms!
Were their joy in their stories.
Treasonous cases are judged
The activitists in their lifestyle.
Racial rites radicalized Mandela
To the decades in Gallo.
Echoes of the parrot
In the cages of colonial chains.
Alas! To the nightingales.
In the barring of the rulers.
The sonny of the camped birds
In solemning joy in struggles.
A day calls to free-fly
In spreading the wings in wind.
The bravo hero lags
In the jails of the gales
Without any injunction.
The birds squat and squall
On many trees
To annunonce and mission.
The nations are in legends
Imprinted all impressions.
In the marble of identity,
The largest gongs beat
As you cry out just-rights.
The criers of the rulers
Were saying blessed in just-wrongs.
Rights had left to be rided
Long ago in the whole villages.
Justice had been killed
Long time in the roomy towns.
The rights had been jailed
But the gongs sound had never
Changed its rhythms.
But the nature had never turned
Drumbeats to a rattled tone.
As a bread is never ressembled
A stone or decriminalized as a bullet.
The spells will loose
As the trick-stones yeild
To sparkle a fire of freedom.
The mandatory cages will break
As the days engage the nights.
The jailed bars will wrinkle,
As the rays of light lit the darkness.
The birds will free-fly
Sing to the masses unchained.
The mongered dogs
Could never watch many holes.
Alas! The vice- hunters
Calmed as a beast saviours.
Nelson blasted the boars
Sakara said, "dogs are domesticated"
Sowore sweated, if forerunners
Bite the heritants of the hunters,
The nights of beings
Will grip forever.
The mad minds will dance in the
Midnights and days.
The right spirits will come and grab
The ragged movies out of the stages
for the right to leave and life.
The flags had just flowed and
Flowered as identity of rulings.
The colours of peace are being
meaningless to the republicans.
The eyes will never be closed
To the gables of the future.
The legs to the paths of righters
Genetic activitists will always be alive
to repair the fables journeys.
