A Place I Called Home

I used to know a place called home
And when summer came it was our Rome
Where by the door Papa would his arms stretch
And the blessings he poured had no stench

But one day the phone rang
Bringing news bigger than the big bang
He heeded a call from far above
Turning down all our hopes and love

And to bit him farewell, we got home
Home was not home
Rome was far and gone
And stolen was the Sun

The Sun that our summers did brighten
Echoed news of how frighten
The nation once was as news came
The dictacrat washed down the drain, fame.

Yet, I knew home was still home
For sweet, sweet mother built a honey comb
From the waves that did dry our tears
’N America the gates flooded with tears & fears

Tears and fears, in arrears we had
Not just in war torn Iraq and Chad;
Today, go not there with this in mind
Go not there hoping for a find

For heart and head of home having stopped
Of joys and hopes we are robbed;
And beyond the still buildings some call home
Nowhere near papal bliss in Rome;

Life is a million light years.
But closer than close to fears and tears
With only tyrants to set the rules
Hoping to work to death the willing mules

In this once upon a time place called home
The boys in green the streets roam
Where parents would not they’re grown
And they in them keep the calm away blown

Where Peace and military are antithetic
For the latter birthed a bomb atomic;
Yet, our soldiers here keep the Peace
By hook or by crook and breaking one apiece.

Away from that coxcomb
Order home like hair with a comb
Letting just wind touch the scalp
But beating like flax the soldier’s slap.

A war mongering lord his rule set
And De Gaulle might have said:
“Get ready for war to attain Peace.”
So, the reverse of courtship for peace.

And away from home, the globe, our village
Has the waves set on rage
Stealing the peace the kid I was knew
But, won’t stop my dream of home anew!

By mom and dad supported
By that ring disappointed
And by the dictatcrat and war mongrel robbed
Anguish and despair for the idyll are bobbed!

Countrymen, willing mules, those laws
Into you forced like tiger claws
Into its prey forced, ’bide not by
Contain pains with no cry!

A cry, tyrants won’t even hear
Or in which they’d only read fear
Displayed by weak and feeble mules cowering
For not the left and right knowing

Then shall tyrants see need for growing
To feed peace loving mules their blessing
And home shall be home sweet as honey comb
Sweet honey comb sweeter than bliss in Rome.

And gone has been that ring
That news of bigger big bang did bring
And farewell we’ll bid tyranny
To have a phoney free story.

Once again, this place will be home
Where children feel the smoothness of chrome
And dreamers will freely dream
And mornings will joy on faces beam

And why won’t home be home once again
When pains mules stood are now a gain?
And once again the sun will for all shine
Leaving none not even the blind.



05-13/07/08
Last 6 stanzas composed 19/09/08

Before You Hang Me

Hate or oppress me
Hang or shoot me
Burn or bury me…!

But before this twist
Let me clench my fist
Let me provide a gist:

Let me sing
To the men and their king
A Song that like bee sting

Awakes them to the load
Carried by us with a moral code
Reduced like some toad

Cast with a spell
Shut in a well
With no story to tell.

Hearing my song
They shall see what’s wrong;
Take the orders then for me to be wrung.

Shooting, hanging, wringing solve not the problem
But attracts a boo for an anthem
Leaving blood, fire and grief as their emblem.

As of stone they have made their hearts
None will ever to them doff their hats
But all will confirm they replicate rats.

Then and only then
smoulder me, not my pen
With flames before I count ten.

Peacefully, I shall die
Heartily, my spirit will fly
Disgracefully, will the king comply.

I shall be death but not gone.
The People shall have, with the king, done
For prising from them their dawn.