How like trash my people have become,
Like rubbish thrown into the bin,
Like trash I write this poem under the illusion of a bash
sound, noise, homes turning into night clubs.
The youth embracing house in ecstasy living for the now
and the joyfully it passes but them do not know.
Like trash their destinies are not known.
How wasted is the night, like trash its takes an unknown ride.
Pride of the unwise blinds and brings them to their demise.
How like trash they have succumbed to the bottle and its toxic drink
Sink into the bottom of Jack Daniels, while others are flying with the fish eagle
Single man get hooked and wake up with stories, single ladies get to feel the heat
Of a drunken horn, some get syphilis and cauliflower, Aids breeding temples.
Twisted philosophy of drunkards about drunkenness, how like trash we have become.
Deep down this melody I hum as another line comes,
Like trash I throw these words back to myself and search for peace of mind in true reality not in this noise, not in this kind of happiness
Like trash I throw it back to the so called DJ he must find a place for it in his music tray and make his drunken audience scream even more leading them more astray.
For this youth Lord I pray as another day comes more trash will be thrown into the rubbish bin and the smell manifest itself more horrible for we have become so terrible like trash we are no longer beautiful.
Selling their bodies, chasing their desire the coin becoming their main focus,
Like trash they have become at teen age prostitution becoming their profession.
Leaving school for a money making man, Shebeen is their dwellings with endless memories of sleepless Fridays and Saturdays opening their legs to different shapes and sizes of drunken man who is also horny, just for any kind of pussy he can settle for to ease his hot muscle and satisfy his erection…
How like trash we have become, like a sound track that never ends yet not making any sense. Track after track, midnight passes the innocence of a child is stolen, promises broken, like trash thrown into the bin.
How can then one analyze the sin, the sin of menkind which separates him from his creator. How can we discover secrets about life and death, the real purpose why we are on earth, destiny and the blessings on our path.
How can trash then find the higher purpose of living, who is in drunkenness, singing, fighting everyone who looks at his women, who even fight the women for being pretty. Like trash this night is also thrown into the bin of nights and days, experiences and stories wasted with the bash and the cash involved. Short skirts are sliced, the breast they fall, like trash they also become and are called wasted teabags no milk they can bare but castle milk stout for the young one to suck and also be drunk.
Children starts drinking in their mothers wombs, bodies becoming living tombs,
Like trash infants are thrown and flushed with the toilet killing the seed.
Read that which has been prophesied written in the past about the present,
about today and more days like yesterday…tomorrow like trash you’ll be thrown away.
