Life Is A Tree

Sometimes we are just alone;
Counting our days and watching our designated time,
Ticking into infinite void.

No one there to see us standing stoically,
With melancholy in our grieving heart,
No one there to caress our load of loneliness.

Perhaps a lazed swirl of cloud would,
Or a ray of light from a reclining sun,
Or an eddy of breeze lapping on our wrinkled face.

Life is a tree under an open sky;
Another life is our canopy.

• Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010

It's A Hard Life by Angus Clyne

Advertisements

The Collusive War of The Worlds

Rejoice!
And the Zulus say – ‘bring joy and happiness’.

Dang! The pop-star shooters say.
Doggone it! The goaltenders say.
Nice! Some coaches say.
What? Some other coaches ask.

The Jabulani swerves and spins and twists and turns,
You can’t control me,
You can’t own me,
But you can run with me or you can run after me;
I am Jabulani – rejoice!

Then the infernal monotonic sound pierce our ears,
Lepatata is its Tswana name,
The ring tone of the war is sounded,
I am Vuvuzela and I am the sound from hell;
Hear me! Hear me all you watchers and warmonger!

The whole battlefield is awash with a rainbow of colors,
Flags of the warring nations quiver in the air,
The conspirators breathe with delight.

Let’s party the organizers say,
Let’s just do it an advertiser say,
The war is here.

The green green grass is splendidly turfed,
Let’s win this war at all cost,
Lets’ cheat, let’s simulate diving and feign injury,
We are masters of our destiny.

And so twenty-two men chase the Jabulani,
Some of the ball chasers are millionaires a hundred times over,
They dance, they jump, they hack, they kick and they rush,
And they cry when they lose.

The watchers sing and shout and yell and scream,
The Jabulani flies like a Raptor and it dives like a Falcon,
And the goaltender jumps like a Panther,
Opppsss – he misses and the watchers shrill with delight.

And the peacekeeper blows a whistle. A goal.

Dang! Three more minutes,
This war has a timer,
It expires when the time runs out.

The African sun is setting,
The war is nearly over.

Gosh! A penalty. A roulette;
This collusive War of The Worlds has just begun.

• Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010

South Africa 2010

The Deafening Sound Of Silence

The filthy beings has done it again,
The beings’ Master spins a laughable tale.

The world citizens cry in horror.

The world politicians stand still;
Simmering themselves to the sound of silence.
Silence is golden – they say.
Ignorance is bliss – they say.

Inglorious cowards – I say.
Opprobrious and ignominious dickheads – I say.
Pseudos and frauds everywhere – I notice; and so I say.

And The Lord shall condemn the filthy beings;
With the beings’ Master leading the procession,
So shall the bollocks and the bullshitters,
So shall the cowed and spiritless politicians.

The Master of Hell,
The filthy beings and their comrades,
They are so pleased and exultantly elated;
As they sing creepy death anthems.

Them;
The United Satans of Armageddon.

• Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010

The Song of Death

Who?

Who?
Don’t mention their name,
Don’t even whisper.

They are not people,
They are displaced beings,
They are the seeds of their own destruction.

Fear will engulf their corrupt minds,
Let them live in fear,
Let them build walls around their sanctuary.

Ignore them,
Don’t even waste your breath saying their name,
Don’t even hate them;
Pity them,
They are diseased beings.

Let them construct weapons and arsenals,
Let them surround themselves with armory,
Let them build sophisticated defense.

If God wills it;
One of their own will push a button,
And they can burn here on earth,
And they can burn again – forever in hell.

Or one of their friends would turn against them,
And they can wage war against each other.
Who knows?
He knows – The All Knowing Lord of The Universe!

Our God Allah is their God.
Do you think that they know not?

They can boast about themselves,
They can hogwash the world,
They can even flap doodle and flatter themselves.

Who are they if there are no enemy?
They need enemies to brag about themselves,
They need enemies to display their strength,
They need enemies to show how arrogant they are,
They are beings with seriously tortured souls.

We don’t need to play their cruel game,
We don’t even need to acknowledge their existence.

Who?
Them – the Armageddon seeker.
Them – the chosen beings who would fuel hell eternally.
Them – the cowardly beings.

Don’t envy them,
Let them just rot and decompose in their own heaven on earth,
Let them inhale their own death.

If they ever cross their border of beastly den;
They would know what is waiting outside,
As a matter of fact; they know.

The Ababil would one day swoop over them,
And who are we to say that it shall not happen?

Who?
Them – the unrepentant.

Don’t even whisper their name.

• Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010

Don't Even Whisper Thy Name