FLYING WITH ONE WING
Right before my country's aesthetics got battered by
voices from microphones of prophets preaching
change (banalities) with
lying lips,
we've heard of men, who once abhorred filthy lucre, hiding mighty
oil gallons which outsizes waterscapes of the Nile
in banks of greed,
We've heard ballads depicting the virtues of Samson's
ferocity, his ordination from the womb, the folly in his
love and the gambit in Delilah's oomph.
We've seen Nebuchadnezzar's
whip and the dexterity of it's wrath, drawing maps on
the skins of our past, we've also been told of how dames and popes
who were honored with a badge of truth later danced to beats
resonating from the larynx of demons.
As sagacity vehemently suffocate in armpits
of fools, and wits are considered inferior to imprudence
by those we call sages, how then will the signposts of truth be
erected on the path to renaissance?
who will purchase the ointments
of Justice from the streets of sheba, ride from the south
where bandits dwell to here and now just to heal our nation's eagle
which now flies with one wing?
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