It is dancing on waves, Like my mind of thoughts, For survival, Let me reach, At thy beautiful land, Nolhivaram, my land of Livelihood. Thy son, a skylark of Maldivian atolls, Never in touch of earth. Praying thee always, Making them happy, In the hazards of morrows, May it be my morrow, Or sorrow, let it be With thy power. The kids of thy land, Be with me in agonies.
Wynken Blynken and Nod??? (ah…oh methinks this pissant pooch woof lee barked up the wrong tree – reed don my mongrel friend) This poetic endeavor doth not boast nor brag to take digs on front page headline grabbing news, nonetheless
From what I have seen America is a well-oiled machine Our military Always ready to fight Together with so much might Leaving their homes night after night Saying goodbye believing it’s not your last sight Living in a whole With rations and
Too many die every moment around us. Not wounded fatally though, but maimed and left to lurch and die. Too many ‘uv us’re paralysed enough to act. Hamletian syndrome. Too many tongues burnt on pyres fuelling a feudal society. Too
I wish I could escape to that promised land Far away from this moribund moonscape & this callous concert grand. Where life is sweet like cherry wine & rivers wash away all the grime Where green meadows sway & swing
Well and was this another seal broken As the Pacific Ocean came crashing Down over the red rising sun… You stumble around on shaking Grounds…so much disaster and Destruction, you wonder what else Is to come as the night sets