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Poetry

The poetry of dying

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The poetry of dying

I saw a rat, dear brother Matt
Whose furs resembled heaps of clouds
While his pink lips smelt of death
For a while, even I struggled for breath
 
Like the sun leaping from sky’s pocket
The little creature lept in agony-
Trying in vain, to flee from the pain
Stabbing at its stomach and tiny brain
 
As if in a trance, I stood there watching
Waiting. Not really sure what was happening
Oh brother! There I remained dormant
Clearly stuck in that very moment.
 
At last the little one ceased to struggle
with its gauged eyes staring at me;
A serine painting of dawn and sunset
Stolen from Da Vinci’s artistic pocket

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Poetry

The Evil Liberator

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The Evil Liberator

He frees you from the small chains of others
So that he can bind you tighter with his bigger chains
He pretends to set you free and yet binds you further
He traps you into his hands so that he can prey on you with his friends
He is an evil liberator; he is not a true saviour or protector

When he seems to free your body, he binds your spirit and mind
What matters more to him is to see everyone behind
To help him up, unto you, he may pretend to be kind
But a permanent way down for you, he is yet to find
He is an evil liberator; he is not a true saviour or protector

In his presence, you are like unto fabric, a terrible stain
And yet he drags you along because you are a tool for his gain
The breath of your unbearable pain and shame
Is unto him a cool breezing fan
He is an evil liberator; he is not a true saviour or protector

In the presence of everyone, he sees himself as the only one
With an evil eye, he looks at you all one by one
Amongst all of you, he makes sure you are divided one against one
Anyone who seems to rise and shine, he will burn like a scorching sun
He is an evil liberator; he is not a true saviour or protector

He tries by all means to divide and confuse you against yourself
So that you can never be at peace to sit and stare at his evil brains
Even though your hands and legs may be numb to feel his chains
But under his reign, poverty, diseases and pain will fall like the rains
He is an evil liberator; he is not a true saviour or protector


©Brian Kazungu, 28/09/2019

Adapted from the book, General Emeritus – Wisdom, Mysteries and Dark Sayings, a poetry anthology written by Brian Kazungu: https://amzn.to/2T8sEQX

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