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The  Future Does  Not  Belong  To  Me Nor  You


The future is not mine who am trampled, 

Nor yours who trample. 

Nor the one who stands watch

On this old planet.

Bam, bam, bam!

War drums pound constantly.

Their hands clap and they shout

The future that does not belong to me,

Does not belong to you,      

Or to those who stand and watch.

The words do not accomplish their purpose

No one picks up the pen to reconcile this. 

No one takes the steps to silence the war drums.

No one knows the remedy to heal the sick past

And in this distant geography

In between strange whispers

Someone stands watching me get trampled 

And you who are trampling.

Identities that are denied

My history that is slaughtered.

The future does not belong to us. 

To those words that shoot,

That slaughter,

That deny,

It also does not belong. 

The future!

Belongs to me

Belongs to you

Belongs to those who stand to watch

At the time when together and for each other

We find an answer to liberate the words

We have already condemned to death. 


May 24, 2014, Nantes

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