Dec 17, 2016
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MY PEOPLE WON’T SUFFER, UNLESS THIS CITY IS BURNT: by Mused

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MY PEOPLE WON’T SUFFER, UNLESS THIS CITY IS BURNT:
….
There is a city in our market
where a gust of wind wears a mask howling and heads sway in confusion.
A city of people with wimpish behavior
whose destination droops and their destination is decided by a waiting disaster.

A city of nicknames;
Vagabonds
Nuns
Masquerades
Cherubims
Celestials
Catholics;
A city of farmers without hoe or cutlass
but, slough their lands with the nails of the innocents.
….
A city of barbarians
A city of nincompoops
A city of sobbing gladden faces
A city of dullness
A city of zombies
A city of diverse study
A city of downpour of dumb verses
A city of language banks
A city of should
A city of wouldn’t
A city of shoulders walking as foot.
….
My city
Their city,
Our city, of shouting silence of laughter.
My city , their city,
where people slogs a pile of unnecessary tasks.
Their city, is our city
of broken pages of eyes that winks after a dead has arrived home.

My city of illusion,
My city of delusion.
A city in our market
The market in their city
The city of pedestrians of my city who gets high riding the bridge of darkness.
This city must be burnt, if my people would suffer not.

Mused©

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