Smitten by scintillas of common wheat.
Soiled feet. His grimace paints an icon of tribulation.
What is a day without a humble collation?
No fealty and hours of chicanery.
A smirk with no teeth.
A lacuna in space.
A desecrated race. Land of sand and without a serene oasis in sight.
Clouds descend into the desert, weighing their capacity bursting blood
'Tis a city of rondavels and a secret society.
Tears of injustice wail for years in the percipience of its citizens.
What is crystallized honey with a bag of rice and no MONEY?
Weeping progenitors agonizing over their descendants in the back of beyond
The weak curse the sky pledging their malevolence to the weather's savage sound.
He cogitates about the lifeless bodies of his neighbors burning under the August sun.
Bruis'd from noontide's flogging rays weeping undraped while holding his head
A Bactrian camel with a limp tongue and anhydrous weather forecasts a future of struggle.
His clavicles jot signs of hunger and sliced rags cover his head.
A Cerastes vipera in the distance hisses with force over its territory.
A fighting spear in its eye and a battle axe in its throat kept the venom
away. Death and starvation are on the faces of the children.
Where does his pain take him?
As if the earth would not whistle a drop of rain for a feeble man who is almost insane.
Schizophrenia and tortur'd by a shore of wind-swept sand along with the footprints of the
One pathway leads from here and never in his life of madman strife,
did he see a golden coin consider'd to be the lucky token dazzling in this
road. Years felt like centuries without faith.
What is a penurious man's life without good health, any wealth and a wife?
Why can't the planet stand in silence to address his demands?
And with tears flowing along with his shuddering fears, hopes for new plans
Hast thou no remorse for a yammering fellow from Cairo,
Whose heartbeat cripples pointing to the north desiring a Turkish gyro?
No comfort in motionless air which chok'd his last breaths-
Uneasy from despondency ready to shut down meeting the grave.
In this realm of ashes breaking the traipse with his soul being wrenched;
Can find no reason to battle being devotional to mortality
From ev'ry depth of his being with veins as roots; lay him in an underground cave.
(From Cosmos and Spheres Poetry Book- Book 1 written in 2010)