We had our jolts, numbing bolts.
Abortive muted true revolts.
Many tsunamis had us pound,
Ever since history had us found.
Babers of yon had their stakes.
Babers today just lowly fakes.
Baring canines every now and then.
But unstoppable whir the arms of Ben.
And their Consigliere; a so called man.
All! Sollozzo the Turk and sponsored fan.
His hunger is more then a zillion mouths.
His entourage scary teeming uncouths
A practiced, haunting toothy smirk,
Hides his face and the cavalier jerk.
Now shamelessly running from pillar to post.
Fed some few with cuisine and roast.
Belches and bravado from the rotund ones.
Fourth estate’s talks and nauseating puns.
On the rim of a cauldron’s stench bobs.
The black coats messiah sulks and sobs.
Scrunch! Goose foot; phalanxes start to march.
Sadly pointing to the ides of March.
original
14-03 2k11
(Islamabad)
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