Tuesday, 31 January 2012


Let me travel to the resort
Of rejuvenation
And tuck self inside the sanctuary
Of solitude.
Let me shield my eardrums
From this din.

The wind whistles,
The snakes hiss,
The squirrels squeal,
The song birds squirm
And sing staccatos,
Sundry shrieks pervade the shrub.

The choristers chant cantatas
And the cants,
The music manipulates.
The pastors prance
Preaching doctrines doctored.

Napalms pound the pews,
Heads from bodies sever.
Eyes dripping innocence
Into the heart of hate.

I am dying in this din;
Sovereign funds,
Stolen funds,
Same sex marriage
And Strikes.

I am dying in this din;
And occupy.

Surgeons of Satan
With surgery sets set
To sever arteries so suction will start.
Blood will be drained,
The system will be filled
With the stench of suffering.

Let me heed the clarion call
Of my muse,
Let me step on the road to rejuvenation
And leave behind
Minstrels munching crumbs,
Motors in gridlocks
Hounds hounding news hounds
And hungry humanity huddled
On dirty streets decorated.
Let me leave behind
Demagogues doling out deceits.

I will return with bags bountiful,
I will return rejuvenated
To re-paint the dirtied walls,
I will return
To adorn this abode with beauty.

The road recedes,
The journey lengthens.
My quickened steps
Slow to rhymes recited
By tongues of tired travelers.

I quickened my steps again
Reaching the resort of rejuvenation,
Humming the hymn of hope.