Horn’s Strife … 2505-2k13

No idle sage in wakeful dreams Or medicine man in tribal lands hath pinned his words to uncaring ears of deranged misfits or merry men bands no wisdom sparkles from buffed and burnished stone nor sky be lit, or in all engulfing nights shown they naively seek heaven, in matted hair around oozed glue finger, wads’ ecstatic buzz, as dominoes fall white black and blue with machetes hack, maim left writhing, bake in pools red condors’ waste plaster white where they grazed, dropped dead once ranged over pearly earth now in pockets far and few Viet and Asian men may gloat fancy nails, that the world just threw Callous mix of black and white spells pain and death of horn’s strife no booming resolutions shall ever stay plunged in Africa’s heart the knife original 21st May,2k13 Islamabad.