…there is sadness in the face of the moon.
Boom boom!
Marauders at the door.
Boom boom!
Gory chunks on the floor.
Marauders;
those marauders;disgruntled fragments of the Sahara storms;
with blood as token toast,broke into our dozing homes,
transcending into our deepest dreams;their sword of enemy deep;
like thorny rain in soundless nightmare, their talons in our sleep.
Marauders!
Stained with blood,sweat and tears of fleeting souls.
When darkness fought the sun,marauds their pungent soles.
These marauders;
of whom our trust belie,
wade unto us but death;taking from our scream – delight.
Fiery storm – their whirling eye,raining tears of flame.
Left in painful emotional wrecks;our turgid hopes untamed.
Marauders!
Those marauders;of the sahara wind blown,
on those mountains south;sung macabre song,
beating Gatling drums;dancing us to early eternal beds.
Oh!
Fresh widows-baggy-hearts;
terrified in the consuming-vastness of now empty beds,
an appalled receding fertility…
Pity.!
Marauders!
When…
within decrepit walls;our western wisdom seek,
Soaked in loamy yield;our tillers hoe speak,
market wrappers dodging glides;steady-vigour-taint,
four legged fielders stride;devouring may green paint.
Hither came marauders,as ruthless as jungle beasts
engaged on sumptuous fields;trampled upon our peace.
Marauders!
When their bullets greeted,responded our hoes;
as we dug for life,our eyes almost met our toes.
Stolen from us our breaths, our trunks on our birth soil rot;
left with rubbles of once earthen shelter;providence lot.
Echoes of our cries;marauders ignite,long shall lingers.
Like the dried-living-tree postures,skywards our praying fingers.
…there is sadness in the face of the moon;
but the sun once again promises laughter.
