We are not the shack
Though the shack is not furnished
We are not famished
We are spiritually nourished
For we refuse to become the shack
That merely houses our limbs and lack of property
Our hearts roam free beyond the shackles of the shack
For in these shacks we have conceived pregnant dreams
That give birth to rising hope
And multiple orgasms
In these shacks we have nurtured life
And cherished laughter
That can ignite old mansions
And castles of antiquity
The shack does not define us
Inside these squatter camps
Our minds gallop without cramps
For we refuse to be shackled by the shack
That houses out mere limbs and lack of property
Inside these shacks that stand limping on crutches
We sleep with our heads held high
And stand with bowed heads
Not to worship the god of squalor
But to accommodate the space
Smaller than us
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