My ancestors were victims of brutal changes
the British Empire imposed upon them
I understand other ethnic groups have suffered at the hands of the British
Be it the people one ancestry or another
We all have suffered
But today there is still suffering
Men are being beheaded
because they offer help
In Iraq it still seems like they continue to carry out teachings of Sadam Hussein
Why?
I don't know!

I'm stupid for believing
in miracles and good
I'm young and so naive,
that you can laugh along.

A living breathing creature,
that's too afraid to live.
So lonely, needing love,
but too afraid to miss.

Yet, there's a tiny fire
in me that i can't hide
and it could light a city up
like a lightning strike.

I haven't been created
to live another life,
that's full of words so empty,
believing wars and fights.

I'm naive, stupid, young,
expecting and afraid,
but look, the biggest fire
is made of all this pain.

The sugâ galantly stand around
with their spears
Dressed in goat ' s skin with painted
faces and hair
Their countenance say ' do not dare '
A direct contrast of the square ' s
light air,
Which is exagerated by the
tipsiness from the locally brewed
beer .

With dances the festival began in
earnest ,
Each dancer stamping hard to
make his beats the loudest.
The tipsy audience laughing and
cheering their best ,
Men, like chimpanzees , beating
their bare breast.
Mandiang is all, anything else is
being put to rest.

The drull drum is a - play for the
sugâ dance
Marking the ****** of all that has
and is to chance ,
The majestic monarch march for
the entrance
And the time for the rain - making
ritual to commence.

So it, at the end , rained as usual ,
The welcome crown of this annual
ritual .

How do you define something that always escapes us,
Something which we sense only by virtue of its anticipation?

Curiosity (at times),
Turns out to be nothing but a tale
Waiting to be deciphered and interpreted
In a new way each time

For without the other, neither could exist.

Born to live!!
Lives to die!!!

Term it the cycle!!
Life is all a recycle!!

Term it Fate!!
Open always is the gate!!

All they say,
There's always a way,
Seldom do they play,
The role we lay..

And all at the end,
There's always a bend,
Set a trend,
For the rest to mend!!!

The typical person—
Strives to become better and good
Will always see that they have some advantage in the matter
Enjoys art, in some form (the species-specific expression of humanity)
Seeks comfort, and pleasure in its way,
Seeks love, a bare necessity for flourishing survival
Gives love, by instinct, causation, or personal values
Would give much to have the answers to everything and all
Still, in the exhaustion of panic unearthed,
Constricted chest muscles, proverbial blanching ache
And anguishing doubt
Just them same—
We will only partake
In beliefs without pain

The diverse assortment of enrapturing conviction
Is but cacophony to most other than me,
Discord to the passionate,
Defending concepts they find true
Clamor to the indifferent,
Those value peace and human happiness
Above factual correctness
For years they’ve all, with incessant attempts
Given their utmost to indoctrinate me,
The most easily swayed of all—
But I’ve found in the rupturing of the fervent,
All ideology, ethic, doctrine,
And in the serenity of the agreeably pacific
I’ve found faith, hope—I’m sure that’s my own,
Art is by no means meaningless, I find,
Especially so when inherent by human ability
And ascribed to this lyrical poem I’ve crafted
Consisting of what I, by my means, find true
Diverse conviction is beautiful.