Our forefathers berthed a country.

Based on the liberation of all

from the imperialistic leashes,

that subjugated us like dogs.

Homogeneity seemed farce to them

Cultural singularity was deemed to drive us sparse

for in diversity we remain indomitable

perfervid to our cause?

Bathing in our systems of culture

nursing our minds,

we erected a bust

whose future is not prescribed.

This bust sculpted during our ardent times,

shows sings of aging

for its maintenance is not proportionate to time.

Existing scourge seep into its crevices

slackening its just might

driven with the goal of disassembling its foundation

for it’s mere presence freighted them with anger.

Shackled by the chains of their history,

they shall bring no boom, other than that of destruction.

The liberated are guilty of a fallacy

The fallacy of deduction.

For them old is literally gold,

the past is rolled up into a cigarette-

but never smoked.

Snapping match-sticks off it’s box,

they defused it’s cause.

For now the means of fire remains in our hearts.

The flint of our tongue,

activates without our wits being sung:

not afraid of handling cow dung.

It projects forth

a wave of tunes

which soon alludes the frequency of thought

some-times off

but more accurate,

than the antennas of a house.

The cause in these terms lead to:

Religious strife

female infanticide

and periodical rapes in the countryside.

But with all said and done,

the land of faith:

will burn the stake-

that missed it’s heart.