First poem after the re-set clock
You came like a lover
In a godforsaken hour.
No one said a word
And you were hardly heard.
A self-conscious grin from desperates
Mixing their gin.
Where you’ve taken her
None will hear again.
Like that toxic elixir
Brought behind the curtain
To a congregation of knights
With results almost certain.
Burning to dust
The ambitions of ambitious men.
Generating in others lust.
Even in the most feckless chicken.
Sophisms and witty rhetoric,
Cos even a cloth shop says “No Limit”.
People smiling on TV
And going home muttering damn-it.
Poster-posters of opposition crys
Rounded up and thugged.
(That was the night before, not even on the day
Where Vasu’d rather he sucked).
Yes, my beloved nation,
In the midst of your drumming,
Things you’ve not as yet begun to see:
We saw all these things coming.
Things you do not see being made,
Focusing power from lands to sperms,
In this unpresidented manner
Of unconditional terms.
Yes, sophisms and witty rhetoric,
Coercion and grants of deeds,
Telling you where the nation leads.
And on Thursday, all protests ended,
People back on the road with a growl.
Only a student cautious of her future
Was heard mutter “where fair is foul”.