Another day, another dollar. Another year we turn our collar to the indifference of the ice-cold wind. To the atrocities that we all see, yet refuse to comprehend. Another year here on earth, sometimes wondering what was the worth? Sometimes doubting that there shall ever be an end. No happy Christmas with presents at the door. No birthday wishes, with so many more. No Valentine’s day, with hundreds of heart-shaped-cards to send. Not when this god-forsaken-enemy continues to invade the bodies of every type of living being, like a gift sent from some trifling-friend. How can there be happiness anywhere? How can we ever hope to share in the joy that spring lends? Birds singing in the air? Laughing children that we see? How can any of this ever be? Till this scourge. This malignancy. This sarcoma. This blight upon the planet. This cancer ends!
SILENCE WITHOUT; TURMOIL WITHIN The rage of the many failed promises Expectations gone awry Stillborn dreams battered and trampled Fires within consumed with the thought ‘I can be more’ ‘I am more’ Endless waits for new springs, new dawns Hopings, longings, thirstings, needings Hearts parched for lack of passion No streams, no rivers, no seas, no lakes No satiation for my empty soul Endless numbing days of familiar toil The same empty tasks again and again Till weary, torn, bedraggled forlorn Despaired of hope awaiting the end Emptiness within hopelessness without But of trouble there is no end Man is born for trouble Hounding him with despair and struggle Till the empty shell is lowered to the grave And the permanent silence remains By Faminu Imabong