August 29, 2011


we are the ghosts of your shame

our bloated stomachs and sad eyes

haunt you

we are your cast offs

thrown away

like garbage

torn from our mothers' breast

cut down for your sins

executed for your crimes

we demand to be noticed

we demand to be counted

you try to silence us

you pretend that we do not exist

go ahead and turn the channel

turn away from us

back to your illusion of safety

of cul-de-sacs and strip malls

but our voices continue to rise from the grave

we join in song


we are still here

see us

copyright © 2011 Kevin Routh


  1. Wow.. that was great.. amazing!! no other words to describe..

  2. Well Done and so sad; I feel guilty about my poem. I do think we need to do all we can do help the hungry.
    Charity starts at home~

  3. Oh, my... this really packs a punch straight to the gut. Potent!


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