It is the Enemy that made
The nation: the enemy that the
Nation made. For the survival of the fittest,
You make the fittest opponent: things are that simple.
Things are that small, until you redeem another; at one enemy’s fall.
Have you seen the Rolex and the promise of a suck
As he holds you in his eye? The soft fragrance, have you felt;
The heels and rouge? Have you seen the Enemy
In paper columns? Billboards? Caution signs:
“Beware he bites”. Seen him there between the lines?
Harold and Kumar, while escaping G-bay,
End up at an orgy, – Raza’s –
Naked women orgying with half nude Raza.
Around his privates Raza’s got hair, he’s had it sheared
Like Osama Bin Laden’s beard.
Like the KGB; the Kremlin:
Like the Russian blond in 007’s finger tip.
You dress the Enemy in latex and leather
And save a drink for his fast
In the bestest of weather.
Papers show a beaming MR walking by
A cat-like Ranil. Sajith’s nerve tension,
Like a Grecian sculpture, stands out the pages of a
Sinhala daily. Fonseka’s is a denied parliamentary access.
Is former Karuna’s programme devoid of a lapse?
The Public Enemy is also the name of a play
That Ibsen wrote in a younger day.
A play where the ‘Enemy’ becomes the enemy of the ‘State’
And the ‘State’, in its presumption, becomes the ‘people’:
The hypocritical cycle of the arbiter of fate.