...by Poetic Tee, ”Here, take a sip."
The monster has swallowed, yet another two thousand
Its insatiable belly filled with loved ones not contraband
More bones and skulls covered with lies, in shallow sand
My heart sinks deeper. Come, do I in this all alone stand?
How can I live another sunrise as helplessness bound my hands?
How did I end up on this blood-flowing river bank, in a foreign land?
I often ask what stands to gain masterminds of this plan, so grand?
Unleashing massacre on innocent souls, unprecedented, as a brand
Where have I gone wrong, how can I be strong, who has a magic wand?
The monster has swallowed, yet another two thousand
Its insatiable belly filled with loved ones not contraband
More bones and skulls covered with lies, in shallow sand
My heart sinks deeper. Come, do I in this all alone stand?
How can I live another sunrise as helplessness bound my hands?
How did I end up on this blood-flowing river bank, in a foreign land?
I often ask what stands to gain masterminds of this plan, so grand?
Unleashing massacre on innocent souls, unprecedented, as a brand
Where have I gone wrong, how can I be strong, who has a magic wand?
I heave a sad sick sigh, the weight of a billion complains
Reaching all ears, cries of wailing orphans, widows in quantum pain
I toss and turn in aching despire, asking what psycho-conscience sleepeth through this cinquain
What shocks more, how day sits watching the annihilating tragedy with no disdain
While the night connives in shrouding dark demons devoid of light absorbed with no restrain
Everywhere I turn, in patches, dark blotches, red fresh, yes dried splashes art bloodstain
As smiling, satan sat smoking scorchy cigar, savoring the sickening scenario satisfactorily entertained
I tried as much as I could to stop dreaming this evil nightmare, only to wake to its reality, so certain
Nobody seems to care, for I swim in excruciating pains, breast-stroking to survive this life drain.
Day after day, the hell artist presents again another gory artwork
Using earth as canvass, a fire totting brush, humans as colors to subject minds to shock
Free men forced in death to depict grotesque art sprawls, marveled at by others enblock
Slaves made of maiden names, raped in hunger, killed or turned to suicide bombers who struck
For some its common, boring news on-net, coming right next to a comedy titled "The Doc."
Refugees in their land, abandoned in "Home" away from home, what pathetic twist that sucks
Lacking in basics, disease ravaged, shivering in blanket cold with no blankets, soothed in mocks
O shattered hearts, enough pounding on dungeon walls, giving no respite to their uprooted luck
With each drawn breath, many still look heavenward, praying in hope, for a miraculous stroke.
(c)2014 Tijjani M. M.
all rights reserved
Reaching all ears, cries of wailing orphans, widows in quantum pain
I toss and turn in aching despire, asking what psycho-conscience sleepeth through this cinquain
What shocks more, how day sits watching the annihilating tragedy with no disdain
While the night connives in shrouding dark demons devoid of light absorbed with no restrain
Everywhere I turn, in patches, dark blotches, red fresh, yes dried splashes art bloodstain
As smiling, satan sat smoking scorchy cigar, savoring the sickening scenario satisfactorily entertained
I tried as much as I could to stop dreaming this evil nightmare, only to wake to its reality, so certain
Nobody seems to care, for I swim in excruciating pains, breast-stroking to survive this life drain.
Day after day, the hell artist presents again another gory artwork
Using earth as canvass, a fire totting brush, humans as colors to subject minds to shock
Free men forced in death to depict grotesque art sprawls, marveled at by others enblock
Slaves made of maiden names, raped in hunger, killed or turned to suicide bombers who struck
For some its common, boring news on-net, coming right next to a comedy titled "The Doc."
Refugees in their land, abandoned in "Home" away from home, what pathetic twist that sucks
Lacking in basics, disease ravaged, shivering in blanket cold with no blankets, soothed in mocks
O shattered hearts, enough pounding on dungeon walls, giving no respite to their uprooted luck
With each drawn breath, many still look heavenward, praying in hope, for a miraculous stroke.
all rights reserved
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