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THE CUNNING FATHER
the standing tree making shade
under it my sons ate
like palace pet
they never know what sweet comes bitter
but later better
its breeze blown so daze,hang
deligted sons play along
in the tiny sun's film
eventually the sun hurts their palm
suddenly their hearts drop
making demand of their right
they dope
out on angrying height
and fall like might
and drying the fish with their eyes fire
they hulb and hire
they dip into well of hap
with their minds grow hatred
and their cold bodies behave so slight
what their soul of no kindred
they do no mild
but become wild
as their talks about the path of hard
would they come on the chair of brotherhood
or show in their sense path had?
their versatiled brains blame their childhood
please do not hate my neighbour
do not hate my nation
but hate me
as i am cunning father
