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their fortress is of iron–bell
they survived as our town–crier –
the information custodians
but they've turned into iron–bell
turned into announcer
turned into town and we the people
they are the artists
painting our stories
filling the emptiness left by our pains
they elect and dis–elect themselves
they became the artist brush
that disorient our togetherness
into fine piece of art
for the benefits of only them
their children and children children's
their hands and mouths are famish battalion
cormorants hungry for nothing but
manipulation and regulation of our mental awareness
they rotates themselves as gardeners
gardening power and our wealth
we became the weeds growing on their restless silence
copyright 2019
Umar
Yogiza Jr |
