by D.A. Sadokpam
In this unending duel for sanitized half truths
She tells him his poems are pointedly political
In this fierce battle for expressions wild and tamed
He tells him his stories are unduly romantic.
If you ever had a sweet and ripe duologue With
the flaming Ernesto’s spirit on the wall You
would continue to heed his prudent words
Writ crystal circled by gory war, love and deaths.
Tell me, you listen intently to your own tribulations
And think of the many things you had dreaded
And I will fathom and give you hundred reasons
That is sure personal, social and political.
The imageries of blood ties and constructed kinship
That erects political milestones over the green fields
Forgetting will never ever be forgetting
But a reluctant attempt at not remembering.
Call him the rebel sword,
call him the romantic spear
He was set to saddle on the battalion’s swift ponies
Heading for the terrain of the wild teaks and green olives
Not to fight the enemy in fatigue caps but to sow the seed.
He had an objective to lead the fight and be true
For enduring love, for rare sanity and for dignified life
And she inks the personal lines for the long spear
To recall and enliven his love for political perspicacity.
In this unending duel for sanitized half truths
She tells him his poems are pointedly political
In this fierce battle for expressions wild and tamed
He tells him his stories are unduly romantic.
If you ever had a sweet and ripe duologue With
the flaming Ernesto’s spirit on the wall You
would continue to heed his prudent words
Writ crystal circled by gory war, love and deaths.
Tell me, you listen intently to your own tribulations
And think of the many things you had dreaded
And I will fathom and give you hundred reasons
That is sure personal, social and political.
The imageries of blood ties and constructed kinship
That erects political milestones over the green fields
Forgetting will never ever be forgetting
But a reluctant attempt at not remembering.
Call him the rebel sword,
call him the romantic spear
He was set to saddle on the battalion’s swift ponies
Heading for the terrain of the wild teaks and green olives
Not to fight the enemy in fatigue caps but to sow the seed.
He had an objective to lead the fight and be true
For enduring love, for rare sanity and for dignified life
And she inks the personal lines for the long spear
To recall and enliven his love for political perspicacity.
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