The poor child groaned

while his mother moaned

''Ah, he's possessed,

Oh, he's been bewitched'',

Superstition bemoaned

. To the witchdoctor she sped

and was back with murky potions

such yucky stinky lotions

Those mythical concoctions

The woman obeyed the wily witchdoctor

Placed belief in that traditional healer

and the poor child still groaned

but his mama no longer moaned

After two days of tribal treatment

and no lessening of predicament

she thought he needed something more potent

When all it turned out to be was a cavity dent!

But she would hear of no dentist

Like all quacks her witchdoctor had fooled her five senses

For his spells and his chants

and his mystical dance

held her too in a trance


Quite a weird ****** is he

Beware the medicine- man!

The devious cunning shaman

Beware that vodoo magic and witchcraft

that so survive on the gullible and the daft.


Yet I was warned to be wary of pharmaceuticals too

They can be harmful chemicals in the long run for you

TO ALL POETS

Each of us is different
yet we are (bottom-line)
the same
true to self
that's what really  matters
words are the joys and tears of our heart
none can stop them--never, ever

The princess of the sea, Beirut, triumphantly will rise above her sorrows and wounds. For over five thousand years, she has grown to be tough and resilient.  With the break of a new dawn, Beirut will be enchanted, and will be wearing her garment of beauty with a welcoming smile.

Hussein Dekmak