PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

-1-

Once a Captain announces with delight

Safty measures to land a peaceful flight,

The Airbus rocks like flapping fast

Over-coming winds losing height.

First intuitions crop up straight

Obstructing eagerness to sight...

There, an irritated gin changes its plight

Gathering momentum for senseless flight,

Thus provoking worry, fear and doubt !

-2-

Oh ! What is it !

What really could it be...what ?

Here inside the plane, intact...

All passengers belt-up and quiet,

Hostesses up and down, so elegant,

Rosy smiles flush rare lively lights

Here, there,aaah, gentle and smart

And so is the flight...

No problem, no, nothing to cite,

But, I tell you what...

Toes start numbing cold and sweet,

Perhaps an uncommon mishape or guilt

Happened or happening on the street;

To be exact...

I see our people muddled in the dust

Some where down over there !

Oh, damned it...

Could it be how one may sense demons

Spread woes on such a hopeful land...!?

-3-

An other curious peep out side the plane

Could visualise our great Niles converging

Deeply concerned,

Assessing pros-and-cons of a calamity

Like highly respected prudent elders

Mistreated by a gang of prodigal sons,

Though clearly generous

As they have ever been

Through ages that have us here !

-4-

First “modern” extensions show up:

Life-less sepricurs amidth shanty townships

Here, there and there,

Dim like a ground dull and broken

Swallowing rays from a drowsy sun,

Towered by climbing smokes, sullen,

Of over-growing social refuse

From a city loll in deepening mourns:

Pooh ! Brakeages, fragments, carcasses…,

Contaminating cultural debris scattered

Here, there and there…!

-5-

As the Airbus touches carefully

On the simmering ground,

Thunderous rattling suddenly flare…,

Groans like-wise rise

Into mad deafening roars;

Woe ! You feel the anger, feel it…,

Disapprovingly pulling up, up,

Exposing beyond doubt

Pitiful sentiments, sadness or distress

Even machines do express sometimes !

When it turns around staggering

Waging its fins

Like a celebrated model sailing astray,

Drowsy, on the cat-walk missing the way,

The Airbus sounds though murmuring:

“Oh, Duty, Duty…,

You are the one who flew me here”!

-6-

The great Airbus taxes cautiously,

Slowly,

Stealthy,

Obviously ‘mindful’ and ‘careful’

Not to break or beard

Any old or new

NIF ‘Islamic’ air traffic laws,

Because that Khartoum of the NIF

Is no part of this veery world we know,

But another galaxy beyond Milky Way,

Ages far, far below

And any lingering beard

On a ‘duty-free-shopping’ spree

Who might be

Or may just feel like a judge

Possessed by wild demon’s flares,

May yell in the name of the Prophet

The way an insincere desperado

At the verge of divorce

Would cling onto a cork of lies,

Foams, jumping up and down…,

Swears to use force for thrice or more,

Digs a puny hand into a stained pocket

Producing queer sentences there…,

Peerhaps renaming the Airbus,

Say, ‘Their al-Ababiel’

Or instantly flogging some guests

For any reeking wine taken in Rome

Flat on the glowing terminal in June,

Just like that,

According to atmosphere and mood

Dictated by a blind misguided ‘Jihaad’ !

-7-

Then passengers disembark normally

One by one, each after the other,

Into a real political oven !

The first to shaw up or rush in,

Drying aggressive silhouettes pale,

Grim and grey

Hiding in beards, thick and shabby,

Puzzling arrivals

Turn around growing worries…,

Wheeziness and dizziness start

While some venture to stammer whispers

And earnestly inquire

About place, age and time,

Why, stern and stubborn, why ?

Almost in uniform, why ?

Lower lips enveloped into upper, why ?

Why really, why ?

Oh, My goodness…,

What a welcome !

Who isulted them…?

What spurred the fellows…!

Who teased them all at once…!

Who, who dis-dis-disturbed ?

Who really, what and why ?

I am a citizen…or, or what ?

Now, my dear…,

I remember every advice so clear,

But some heads could be so thick

And into dragon’s den even walk

Without at least carrying a stick !

So you really wonder,

Wonder and check yourself, perhaps…,

But, no really, but why ?

Oh, The sweet aroma of the virgin land

That keeps people uniquely friendly,

Hilarious, harmonious and jolly,

Seems to have migrated in a hurry

The day the NIF and the like on us

That hellish breath of Hiroshima sprayed !

-8-

The first they inquire thoroughly

Just by looking only

At any national arriving instantly:

“Any ‘blessed’ recommendation, any

From any ‘special branch’ abroad, any ?

Garang the uncompromising Chief Rebel,

Parasitic apostate opposition in refuge,

Spying communistic Human Rights,

Did you ever meet any, any, any ?

Did you ever encounter their liflets ?

Their God-damned literature, any ?

Satanic Verses or magazines,

Alcohol openly in bars and pubs,

Infidel females flat in flats,

Pork grilled in restaurants or parks,

Obscene films in playboy nude clubs,

Any, any, any ? Did you, ha ? Did you…?

They look you up down-wards, down up-wards

Scanning, sniffing, snarling

Like hounds about to spring on the guests

Before masters hurry in to halt !

Then comes in the other quarrel:

Thugs dig into luggage at will,
Gifts fly anyhow in a horrible drill

Till you almost break down or shrill !

Once properly filtered, feel wet,

Oh, first genuine ventilating sweat,

Really nice, smooth, amazingly sweet

Since still standing on your feet

we  meet  with   love

 

  

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