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Posts tagged with: Poetry

Poem: The Flour Deaths

Do we need?
The Prime Minister House
The President’s palace
The great old parliament
The Muppets of our bureaucracy
The old feudal lords,
And the thousands acres
The old hands of dictators
And the warmth of lies
From the leaders of our present
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In Memory of Ahmed Faraz

I remember his verses
In his trails, words of revolution
In his thoughts, words of gold
Now carry we will, in our way
In continuation, to find
What became a dream?
For the poet, for our friend
A blessed soul, of our own
Not borrowed, not stolen
One of our own, the Faraz
We will miss him and words
That breathed revolution
Death can only bring whispers
But words, a torrent of revolution
Good bye my friend, sleep well!