PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the horn of Africa
Death walks like a bride along tormented paths
Thunder from the hills cracks the earth's womb
The gun reigns in the pirates-prowled waters
The landscape is an anatomy of bones and blood
That litter the earth like pebbles in a puntland desert;

Here lawlessness brings fanatism to fruition
In the altar of misrule, scores of years in smoke
Have transformed Mogadishu into a morgue!

In the horn of Africa
The warlords have gone to the hills along
The path of thunder, under the showers of red rain,
Their voices, incoherent as ever passing Islamic edicts,
So they say, in pursuit of an elusive power.

In the horn of Africa

The warlords gather warheads like godheads
Embroider dreams in jungle trenches,
Opiate the masses with creeds of the old torah;

see among the rubble the spluttered humankind,
Heaps of ashes, the ominous spirit against Allah's shariah.

In the horn of Africa
The children are wandering in far-off , alien lands
In the search for a haven of hope away from home,
The diaspora, proclaiming professionalism in various fields
Become candidates of cheap, mediocre occupations
In Islam-xenophobic environments.

In the horn of Africa
How would i cleanse this sepulchre of arrogance
And vituperation, this seething dome of misplaced anger?

Where did we go wrong as humanity that we abandoned
Our children, our women, our aged, left them wandering
In the wide wild world confused, traumatized, hungry,
Vulnerably exposed to all the vagaries of the world?

In the horn of Africa
What new song would i sing
To build bridges long broken
By the league of lunatics
Masquerading as muhammadans?

How would i understand the language of love
In the wanton slaughter of the innocent?