WHERE ONLY MOUTHS WORK

There is a reason hands hung

Legs stand

Eyes see

Ears hear

And mouths talk

But in my home

Mouths walk in talk

And swing in fling

Closing ears like clashing bombs

Forcing eyes to shut in disgust

Little things turn typhoons

Then tsunamis

Covering bigger fishes to sail beneath national seas

As small ones turn dishes on influential wishes

Multiplying the earthquake of development

Still hands hung

Eyes watch or close

Legs are rooted like static robots

As mouths stand in boxing rings

In competitions of no winners

III

As baby teeth dream of the future fights

And matured teeth drum their mouths

Into greying heads

What is change to do but sigh?

As generations of mouths

Graduate from talks with no walks

Where lies the future of a debating history?

Where lies the pots of progress

When hands remain clean as mouths knead fantasizing moulds?

I am but a little mouth

Flowing from my fingers’ ink

An ink flying spittle may erase

In this mouth cage

Still, what is this realm to do?

By amoafowaa