BICKERING BIGOT
my words are hard but the truth is heavy
freshly baked like the ads on your telly
if everyone stare and watch, that doesn’t count as justice
humanity is enough for us to call it practice
tell me I am bickering, yeah, I’m a bigot
see the world burning and you say ’bygone’
flames extinguished in every soul
insanity is now a mole
insane as I can be, the truth needs to be told
everywhere stale, the world has gone cold
killing a fellow brother now looks like norms
how did we ever conform?
kidnaps happening in tens of thousands
so long it’s not your region, it’s not about you son
a sign of fresh breathe before being extinguished
I’m knackered already, there’s nothing left to preach
look around you, tell me lies
how much were you bribed to pay this price
the country is burning but it enriches you
you will suffer, you this low-mileage fool
conscience sold, stupidity bought
so shall your days be filled with rot
grim reaper will humiliate you before harvest
your torture will be the hardest
your hands are already soiled
bribery and corruption increases your oil
there is a generation that curses their father and do not bless their mother
with your eyes you will see it happen, your murder
I am bickering, you’ve made me a bigot
I’ll watch your grave as the worms feeds on your gut
your wreath will abscond in shame
your epitaph will be written lame
you, the thorn in our flesh
we will bind your coffin in iron mesh
your children’s children children will walk in disbelieve
knowing you were a pain, not relief
@talk2leigh
(X & insta)
5:53am
21 May 2026
Josh Stitches, this poem is raw, fearless, and painfully honest. It carries anger, disappointment, and grief in a way that feels very human. Your friend didn’t just write poetry here — he exposed the wounds of society and the silence people hide behind. Here’s a deep and expressive comment you can drop:
ReplyDeleteThis poem feels like rage wrapped in truth. Every stanza carries the weight of frustration, disappointment, and the painful reality of a society slowly losing its conscience. The imagery is dark, aggressive, and unapologetic, yet beneath all that anger is a cry for humanity to wake up.
“so long it’s not your region, it’s not about you son” — that line alone explains one of the biggest problems in today’s world. Selective empathy has made people comfortable with suffering until it knocks on their own door.
The poet spoke with fire, but that fire came from watching too much silence, corruption, violence, and indifference. This isn’t just poetry; it reads like a protest, a warning, and a mirror held up to society. Powerful piece.
Joshstitches