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LET IT ALL BE RENT ASUNDER
The poor and the have-nots,
Of my motherland have been suffering,
All along the 64 years while hoping,
That things will get better:
However, they have only got,
False promises and fancy dreams,
And plans that rot
In the files of huge, castle-like buildings.
At times I am filled with so much despair,
That I am moved to say: "It was unfair...
We did not deserve the freedom
For which so many fell down fighting".
Evenings come with the moon,
And sometimes without anything ,
But stars, like small bulbs on a painting,
Stretching and encompassing,
Everything ...and nothing!
The feudal plunderers, who have come here,
Through the fallacy I describe
As false democracy,
Are the only ones, making merry,
And their misdeeds keep increasing,
As they mock at poverty
And try to show sympathy
With those miserable masses,
Who do not need their pity,
But meaningful measures,
Aimed at bettering their lives,
With intentions of honesty...
The problems multiply as the days pass,
And it is only the mighty and affluent class,
Which, like all usurpers, spread the world over,
Keeps enjoying living at the cost of the poor.
No prayer can save this so-called
"Land Of The Pure"!
Because only a very few are concerned,
About the malady and its cure!
So, let it rain flood the valleys,
And let the sun bake the parched earth,
Let even mother nature too,
Have her full mirth,
For, as I have said before,
Nobody really cares,
About the nightmares,
That thinkers and poets like me have day and night...
Let there be thunderstorms,
Let there be earthquakes,
Let the angels of God Most High,
Let loose all anarchy...
Maybe then,
At the end of it all,
Something good may emerge,
To save those like you and me,
And all honest, sensitive souls --
From the power-hungry dirty!
Let it rain and let the earth's ovens,
Overflow with the water,
And let all of nature's fury
Move the mountains,
Of Margalla and Murree,
Quake like thunderbolts,
And come falling down,
On the deceiving mighty.
And may everything all around,
Be rent asunder,
So that the foul and the rotten,
Are washed off and the land,
Becomes -- the way it should have been --
As it was envisioned:
Cleaner and purer...
From the stench of the corrupt ones,
Calling themselves rulers.
Let this state of decadence,
Vanish like Pompeii,
And let the able and the meek,
The humble and the true ones,
Who really love this land,
Convert it into,
"The Land Of Purity".
(By Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay. Posted on September the 15th, 2011).
