The Great Flood

A red flower
A flag from my distant past
Painted on my Favela.

“Still reading Keats?”
She says her mouth a perfect O

Old habits die hard they say
And some habits become irate
To the youth today.

Keats is all I got you see
That and my Favela

I don’t blame anyone
For I am a forgivin' kind
But if only the folks stopped and listened
When I warned them about the flood
To come

You know nothing of this world’s ways
They said
My voice coach said it was my voice
Not strong
Too soft for the folks.

Back in the day when
The word mandate was still a sapling.

These days there is not a youth
Who don’t know this word.
Though it is kept hidden behind iron doors
Whispered only in passing.

You see it is this word and this word alone
that brought us where we are today
When it was still a sapling.
The common folks' excitement of using this word
Deafened them to the great flood to come.

It was crimson
In colour,
With copper tones.
The great Flood.

How did you know that was coming
You might be wonderin'
My folks had it before me
I am a decent of displaced folks
In Diaspora
For I was born in this land
I felt indigenous
In my heart of hearts.

Other folks had other words
To describe me.
Oriental being one:
The gal from the orient.

I had visited the Orient.
A mystical land
Full of magic and conjurings
But never felt I belonged
For I was a gal of science
Therefore I was mystfied
Why folks called me the
Gal from the orients.

Back to my story
The great flood
It was crimson in colour
With copper tones
That I said
But it had other properties:
All contradictory

The river moutheaten
Caused the flood
An ancient river
Long dried
Since
Not forgotten 

Moutheaten was a jolly river
Once, 
fond of jest and lifegivin’
Its original name was Joie de Vivre
A gaelic name
I Believe

But it got muddier and meaner
As folks got greedier
And meaner

They overfished the river
Joie de Vivre
Left behind blood and carcasses
Of the gigantic fishes
The shimmering waves had
Long dissapeared

My folks said this wouldn't last
The joliness of the river
It will change tide soon
And turn angry at its folks

At first I didn’t listen to them
My folks
For I was a youth myself
Newly discovered the excitement of using 
the word mandate

For I did not know
What it meant at first
“Our government has a mandate
To serve us well!”
I spoke liberally

Some folks said
(A few indigenous and some displaced)
The government has a mandate
Not to take the displaced people
In our fair land
Others said we
Don’t want to see cash
Spent on other folks
Other than us.

River Joie de Vivre
Got angerier and angerier
In the meantime

One day I was on its banks
Noticed the colour changing
To a pale copper
It made me wonder
It made me to double think
My folks' words over.

Another day, it rose to my waist
Angry as a shark
Took a bite from my tigh
Then I knew
My folks were not fibbing
When they warned me of the flood.

I tried to warn other folks
You see
But my voice was too weak
Now we are all paying for it.
All our homes are gone
Disappeared in a smoke.

At least our Favelas are colourful.

And my lil girl is still dismayed

At my love of Keats