Such fear and scorn, such bit-hard hate,
Had drilled my chest with gouge and bite
That wave-swelled anger poured in spate.
A
Christian culture quite destroyed,
Invading
satraps rack the land;Displaced, my rooted life made void,
I drift the badlands’ bush and sand.
That
which I was or wished to be,
Heart’s
tangle with a sweet-life mate,Were spoiled by coup, made worse by me,
Reduced to scratchings on a slate.
Now
youth is gone and age conspires,
Bent
bones and sweepings no one wants,A world in self like untuned lyres
Is flung to scrap with thrones and fonts.
Oh,
rage indeed whilst rage you can:
Mind-sore,
these dunes my polity,I squat in reeds and boil my bran,
Defunct beside the snarling sea.
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©
October 2015