[audio:https://schizophreniapoetry.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/skins-of-the-mortals.mp3|titles=Skins of the Mortals]

The sight of
Racism makes us
Judge others, or
Have visions of
War, it seeks the
Truth but its eyes
Are glazed-
Blind to love.

The sound of
Racism leaves
Us deafened
By the persecution of
Names, muted by
Noise, we learn
To hear the voice
Of reason.

The smell of
Racism makes us 
Sick. But the incense
Of hope remains
Pure like oxygen,
Breathing the
Air of forgiveness.

The taste of
Racism blights 
The tongue with its
Recipe, and yet
The struggle for
Freedom has lifted
The bittersweet
Trials of life.

A touch of
Racism makes
The human spirit
Bruised, and still
A deeper embrace
Warms to our

Racism tries to
Exist and destroy
The human senses one
By one…….but if
We do not unite against
It, the cycle of
Ignorance will spread
To the soul, and
Without it; we would cease
To be human!

David Holloway  (c) 2011

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