“A Surer Hope”

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As the quadrennial festival of booth

beckons

Impostor sheep garb again,

Their beauteous wool

On many walls , laden and smearing

Are heaps of promises

In the air, rented are cluttered of jingles

clinging hard on the  drums

of innocent ears.

 

These days , darken by anxious

flies

Roving from pollen to pollen

In search of sham nectar , but

End up been the licked,the prey

To many raptors who feed

on green prints.

 

Then when you answer bemused

To myriads of honks

In contraption of a heart

You become a puppet

to four heads, with millions voices

Batting you around, like the

conjuring mystify of dubious hands.

 

As it beckons ,I answer bemused

to myriads of  deeper  honks,

But in convulsion

I beheld in one lane

The lap of the lost sheep

wedge ajar the mouth of

the man of the people,

Mounting our lofty tribune.

And the other , entourage

of jeeps , drove with trails of

fresh blood!

(The composer of the song wail

are the one aboard.)

 

So with the blunt, in my edge of fury

I whereupon shred my franchise

I shred it , piece by piece

I will never feed a beast, NEVER!

I let it be the sail

Paddling me on,

On this river of hope

I have savored from long ago

There, WHERE THE POWER OF LOVE

DEVOURS THE LOVE OF POWER

There, WHERE GIFT OF MEN ,

ERASE THE GIFT OF THE GAB

There, WHERE LEADERS OF TOMMORROW

ASCEND SERVICE,

AND NOT PAID BY LIPS.

 



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