Which book has been the most burnt,
The most insulted, the most analyzed,
Challenged, denigrated, hated?
Experts in the comment section
Light up the fireworks of opinion.
Greek and Hebrew and Aramaic
Hold no secret to them.
The History of the People whose
Words fill its pages is as
Elementary as ABC to them; they
Can re-enact it from their homes.
Armed with the sword of language,
History, culture, Geography,
Philosophy and science of the day,
They hack away, they hack away!
Contradictions? hack hack hack.
Falsehoods? hack hack hack.
Human inventions? hack hack hack.
Their keyboards sharper than steel!
They've read all 73 books, stroke
For stroke, and can parallel texts,
One section to other, to see how each author
Made up the story to suit their narrative.
Or they have not? But 1 video is sufficient,
They're now experts of everything!
The Book is false, the tradition as well.
Their feelings and opinion are the Truth.
Encouraged by others like them who
In pride turned Its words into rascals,
Bending them to do their will over the Will
They type away, playing "God".
(c) nyonglema
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So now Trump lost, and Facebook, Twitter, Alphabet, Hollywood and the MSM won...
Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, as the toga
With holes which is prop to your words.
Lost for words, the crowds try to catch your every word.
Their ears try to synthesize hope from them,
The man on the pedestal will no more give them such hope
And hopefully he taught them how to fish.
No more will their voices be heard, even
As the gramophone goes silent.
For four years they heard their echo with solutions
And saw these take form according to their wish.
The storm within seeks an outlet to simmer down,
But Caesar wasn't enough for the conspirators.
They want more blood, as a cat taunting its catch,
The murderer stabbing the lifeless victim
Forgetting that anger leads always to great evil
Especially when egged on by a victor's muzzle.
Hold back your tears, Marcus Antonius, and keep peace,
In spite of Newton's third law, hold back, keep peace.
(c) nyonglema
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Put on your soft mittens as you mete out punches
The stench of despair has sent the flies flying
As wretched voices die in the agony of the trenches,
Smoke, fire, death, silence, blood slowly crying.
Don't let those tears disappear without telling
Of how they came to be. From aching gland burning,
From swollen heart entrapped dreaming of belling
Of events that cause in all for justice a yearning
Don't let the fires chew up the browning pages
Where once sordid tales told the willing student
Of what would come this way, or that way, the wages
Of right, wrong; the way of the vile, of the prudent
Telling of wretched voices dying in the trenches,
Of smoke, fire, and of blood slowly crying.
Don't let memory die as they split us into tranches
To silence half, then lead both halves into trenches.
(c) nyonglema
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Words from today to stir a new tomorrow from yesterday
waghni 