Lines For His Excellency

    A total preoccupation is brewing
    Sometime soon it will be served
    The Northern clan will be honored
    By the festive megalomanic host
    His voice exalts dictatorship
    As banal as his advocacy to
    Mythologize his rule by
    Marshalling war without victory
    Fueled by his desire to change the nation,
    He walks with the scoundrels tagging along
    The delusional hoi polloi in the portal of
    Their own promises-concealed wreaths
    It seems somewhat paradoxical-
    The masses swoon over ignominy
    Bewildered by belligerent ruler
    Who barks laws and plays with fire

    Everything in my nation is plotted
    People stoic, silenced by war
    Over them fear reigned as to
    Whose kin shall be the next victim

    * * *

    Hoarse Scenario

    The scenario is like this: a series,
    Firearm alliterating here and there
    In the street, a man wriggling for his life
    Far off, a body bundled up or boxed
    I can hear the wailings, the sorrows
    Of my neglected brothers and sisters
    Their cries howl with the wind
    Hoarse, implausible, unimportant.

    A genre of brooding regimen
    For Terminators who only bring end
    To piddling runners and users
    While the lords remain untouched
    Their power in the apex of their voice
    Tango in their “soirees dansantes”

    Somehow amidst the void of fear and
    Arrayed mournings in the corners, I could
    Sense a white dove hovering up there
    The wind chimes calling for light rhymes
    Absolute verses and hymns remain transfixed
    Encompassing the poor-lit human grasp
    Of things divine: “This, too, shall come to pass”.



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