But where is the reward?


So me— I sit to be a teacher
in wait for a reward which never cometh
me— I sit writing daily
sit till buttom bakes
waiting for a reward which heaven never wills—

but looks at me in stain—-
pounded by heavy thoughts
and kicked to the pinnacles,
by dreadful appetite to feed
—feed minds of a generation
which would break the shackles of idle minds—-
and bleed blood of an eruptic souls…..

but where is the reward?
ask and ask….
me—I ask soberly
but only a dream of day
heareth this heart yearn, 
but someday,
perhaps maybe—
in the silent stillness of my grave
I shall feast with ants and termites awkward termites.

The Village Thinker © 2014


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