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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