It is not so much for the inglorious past
than the uninhabited future.
Curious a child looks at the West every evening
and wonders if the Sun will rise at all.
On a chalked territory
where the name starts selfishly with 'I'
women wear iron-guards over breasts
and men helmets, painted with ancient Gods
Or assuring palms.
Blessed be the Curls and marks on history
as they are still practised
in sharing gendered foetus, farmers' credits and votes.
But there is hope,
Of a determined future with darker truths,
Of acquiring lands, women and innocent brains.
So the predators wait.
One day a bald with a stick heard wolves whisper -
If they were giraffes
they would have changed the colour of their flag.
than the uninhabited future.
Curious a child looks at the West every evening
and wonders if the Sun will rise at all.
On a chalked territory
where the name starts selfishly with 'I'
women wear iron-guards over breasts
and men helmets, painted with ancient Gods
Or assuring palms.
Blessed be the Curls and marks on history
as they are still practised
in sharing gendered foetus, farmers' credits and votes.
But there is hope,
Of a determined future with darker truths,
Of acquiring lands, women and innocent brains.
So the predators wait.
One day a bald with a stick heard wolves whisper -
If they were giraffes
they would have changed the colour of their flag.
Comments
Sigh. Each new day, a new line here is played out.
Apolitical? Can we afford to be that?
On of the real below-the-belt shots you have ever struck with your writing. Superlative.