Being a slave for the things you hate most. You wish every night at the rags where you sleep - 'God, where are you now? Help me please...'. You want helotry to vanish and your rights to be manumitted. - 15 November 2005


I listen to the hustling wind,

Crying with anticipation

As if sin were ordained

In a persistent village,

Never to be manumitted.

Feudalism bounds against

The damp lodge; rippling,

A Perennial sigh heaving

In a pristine cairn,

Hoping to be heard.

Poetry by John Ashleigh The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2005-11-15 at 20:31

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