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Catalogues of Tales

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Another one down

ANOTHER ONE DOWN😞 News flash... Officer involved shooting... Suspected robber... Unarmed black… gunned down... Sighs… Tearful eyes. Hate… Cruel fate. Black kid strolling down the street, Unarmed to his feet; Shot dead like a dog, By the nation's watchdog. Begged for his life on his knees, Deaf ears to his pleas. The real robber ran behind, They see, yet they're blind. It's on the papers, it's on the news, And yet it's no news; They've got the guns, they've got the law, Backing up their flaw. Mother weeps, just lost her son; Bulllet from a gun. Father mourns, just lost his heir, To speak, none would dare. First they made us into slaves, Now they're digging our graves. Dead nephews, dead brothers, Little babies, no fathers. Black deaths in decimals, They treat us like animals; And when we succumb to our rage, They lock us up in a cage. Where's the love, where's the unity? It's all brutality. Where...

Breeze breath.

Breeze breath. Walking down the road, I feel done and dead. I feel disconnected My mind, my legs My hands, my stomach And my heart All in different places. Suddenly, a cool breeze hits me. Wow, it does mollify me It does sooth me to some extent. Only if we breathed that, Take a deep breath and you will understand. Air so cool and comforting. I know, no one ever took notice of that. I'm better now. Though just a bit down, I know, if it keeps on this way, Eventually I'll be completely fine. Just one more or a couple more Deep breaths and I'll be fine. ©obrianmazunda

THE LOVE OF A MOTHER

The greatest and deadliest of all times A love so strong, would push you to sin You can't resist as long as it insists Could be pure and also dangerous Could be safe and also your darkness It consumes like fire For the love of a mother Is the most dangerous ever © Maracci

The manager

The Manager Every rising sun Meets me on the farm Not mine Nor my father's But someone else's Every setting sun Leaves me in a big compound Where I toil not my field Nor my parents But that which Is for a stranger Thou I'm a man of age I couldn't help but manage I couldn't man age Instead age man me Bossing me to obey it's command I am a famous man For poverty dwells with me Pain is my anchor And bitterness my best friend I am dressed in a robe of penury The crown of poverty adorns me On my hands are bangles of hopelessness Complimenting my beautiful outfit of doom I have no one to look up to But the supreme up above No where to turn to Even a house, I didn't own I eat the delicacies of sorrow Drank the wine of anguish, In a mansion of wretchedness I am king I manage all I have I mean all of nothing I am a manager Who manage his life, A stupendous manger ® Sam Petros

THE HR OFFICE

All salaried people must read this: After 4 years of selfless service, I realized that I had not been promoted, no salary increment, no commendation. So I decided to walk up to my HR Manager. The manager looked at me, smiled and asked me to sit down saying: "My friend you have not worked here for even a single day!" I was shocked to hear this, but the manager went on to explain. And here's the conversation that took place: Manager: How many days are there in a year? Me: 365 days and sometimes 366. Manager: Do you come to work on weekends? Me: No sir. Manager: How many days are there in a year that are weekends? Me: 52 Saturdays and 52 Sundays equals to 104 days. Manager: Thanks for that. If u remove 104 days from 366 days. how many days do you now have? Me: 262 days Manager: How many hours make up a day? Me: 24 Hours. Manager: How long do you work in a day? Me: 8am to 4pm (i.e. 8 hours a day.) Manager: So, what fraction of the day do you w...