Psalm 10 – Politics

Posted on October 31, 2014 by Wuji

I will praise thee, O Lord
Not for the fair world
Thou hast created, making
Man rule over women

Making one kind of a man
Richer than another, not for
How docile your creation is to
One species, which plunders

For the cheap profit of a few
Decades, what nature took
Millions of years to create –
I will observe how change will fix

This Era of its doom, its politics
Of heathens, mine enemies have
Wallets, they have bought power
They possess superiority

I will sing praise to thy name, Selah.
Even in the darkness, I will find
A way to feel the light
Not because this world is fair

Or that there are many Good men left?
For all creations come to an end
And some cities in peace, still perish
In the game beneath the stars

But the Lord shall endure forever
Like nature, like love, and some remember him
Who may or not be our descendants
It does not matter to me, history

Will always be determined by
The new masters, and masters
Rarely have an objectivity of truth
That might reveal their former wickedness.

The Flat Land

Posted on October 7, 2014 by Wuji

(a play on words based on T.S Eliot’s the Waste Land)

November is the cruelest month, destroying
What once was for what will be
The snow will stalk our dreams, hoping
To fill the emptiness of another summer’s end
Earth will forget the dead
As I forget what it was to be a student

Labour fuels my hours, surviving
One year to the next, a broken man
Where is the Spring I once knew so well?
Where is my heart in this cruel world?
Where is time but in these broken images?
Memory is insufficient to be my food

The wind howls and I am the trees
Who have endured so much, again and again
The famous shadows on the ground mean nothing
They are what they were, darkness spreading
These unreal cities are all the same
With their cosmopolitan jargon and anonymity

Each trying to out duel the next, competition
In the workplace, in the dating market
One must be so careful these days
Friends depart without a trace, elders die
Families get divided, partners divorce
The winter dawn has its own beauty

A short and infrequent storm, the bloom
Of white to carpet our weary feet
On roads of fate, sometimes without shelters
Without kindred souls who know us deeply
The synthetic atmospheres of urban life
A society of white walkers, whose truth

Only mimics the fallen empires of liberty
The false figures of unemployment rates
Which do not count those who have given up
Indebted states, welfare states, police states
And the persistent rumour that democracy is dead.