Cloths over their noses,
Flies swarming the arenas
Smoke moving over wearily
As though disinterestedly
Like they need to be somewhere else
Just like the humans who now stand
Staring at the carcasses of those
Who once were humans.
Beyond the chatters of the audience,
A screening of faces show horror-
But just on the few.
The interests on the carcasses already fading
Tomorrow, there’d be a fresh dump of bodies
An immunity against what we have become
Like a butcher on his pork.
The bombs don’t discriminate.
You could be hungry, sad or rich
The bombs don’t discriminate
You could be having the time of your life
A mother’s only hope
A family’s thanks to God
A neighbour’s hope of justice
A friend’s belief in mankind
But the bombs don’t discriminate.
Those who blast others to smithereens
In the name of religion?
In the name of politics?
In the name of ethnicity?
Those used as timber pay a price
For a crime they know not their guilt.
In religion, how do one work up a love
For a god igniting such hate?
In politics entwined in ethnicity,
How does one change it?
But we’re a country now,
Not of people, but of timber.
Walking today, smoking t’moro.
And no one bloody cares.
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