Ritual
She wore red
midriff across her breast
and took the path
that led to her nest
The crickets sang
a melody to the breeze
Jasmine scented night
Moonlit kissed sky
They stood hidden
amongst the brambles
machetes gleaming
She sang along the path
thoughts of loved faces quickened her steps
they moved one pace closer too
the owl screamed a warning
lady you are led
to a fiery slaughter
The moon dipped
they jumped out
incantations galore
faces smeared with terror
one pinched scream
then a whimpered silence
the march to the grove
of the ancestral spirits
Now her red is spattered
with the red of her blood
it is the ritual of ignorance
danced by dead and living
In the eerie market square.
As they danced
her head impaled
on the grimaced mask
of dead ancestors
and her children
wait for her return.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Roadside explosion
Roadside explosion
the kick of the foetus
brought her to her feet
a dark silhouette against
the desert.
the gathering ball of
dust
of the fleeing jeep
took him away
from the lust of war.
face to face
she stared at him
a nightmare from her dreams
his scared staring eyes
jaded from the screams
of constant mortar fire.
across the haze of
mutual hate and suspicion,
her pain and shame,
the soldier
mid-wifed the newborn
of the rejected bride.
the kick of the foetus
brought her to her feet
a dark silhouette against
the desert.
the gathering ball of
dust
of the fleeing jeep
took him away
from the lust of war.
face to face
she stared at him
a nightmare from her dreams
his scared staring eyes
jaded from the screams
of constant mortar fire.
across the haze of
mutual hate and suspicion,
her pain and shame,
the soldier
mid-wifed the newborn
of the rejected bride.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Friends
She said,
We could be friends
I wonder how
she wears laces and gold
I am garbed in tattered folds
she dines like a queen
My meal is of figs
wish I can feel
her vision
as my mission
she is a politician
that dances
to different tunes
by fake praise singers
my voice is lost
in the din
as I try to
show her my
welts from her thugs
she wants to be
first lady to
initiate her pet dreams
that will only keep me
in dread
for my future
We could be friends
I wonder how
she wears laces and gold
I am garbed in tattered folds
she dines like a queen
My meal is of figs
wish I can feel
her vision
as my mission
she is a politician
that dances
to different tunes
by fake praise singers
my voice is lost
in the din
as I try to
show her my
welts from her thugs
she wants to be
first lady to
initiate her pet dreams
that will only keep me
in dread
for my future
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