Signal the two greens
the white between reddened with blood.
The horses neigh in pain
the eagle falls out of the sky
This is an epistle to my fatherland,
for the labour of our heroes past is shrinking in vain,
the pledge we swear shamefully with no gain,
disillusionment spurring from leaders’ fingertips shrouded in greed’s veil,
ugly-faced brutes rule(ruin) the land.
Education is the key,
but where are the doors?
what is the bet?
what’re the odds?
two hundred million tickets
scissored by futility
Herdsmen, bandits, policemen—birds of a gun
all speaking dialect of blood
boys begging for alms,
others settling for arms,
others trade with the devil
sacrifice blood of a loved one
come online and call it grace
the audacity of evil deserves praise
in my country, bombs
dictate obituaries
in my country, all lands
are mortuaries
all speaking dialect of blood
Signal the two greens,
the white between
shall morph to a dove
inhabiting every home