Oluwadare Michael Tunmise

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Mouawiya Syasneh

Syria,10th Feb,2011. A.D
When the rumbles call for a strike of grenade,
It wasn't an angel writing on the wall for Syria.
'Anti bashar al-Assad.' A prank graffiti portrayed on the walls
Of classrooms blocks. Not some fun the boys seek for a dry day?
Shaytan creeps in at the virgin of the day so even that the
Chador rend and flip outburstly!
Erstwhile, for before was a mumbling war of contempt.
Do you know it were the peace makers that fuel this smoke of
Massacres?
For Syasneh et al were denied going home in an horrendous
Maltreatment from the friends of the civilians,
And then were peaceful protest chamaleoned to an
outburst of war, the gospel of fire and the slaughters,
the songs of supremacy sang in the beat of violence.
And perhaps you don't know that the president was no hero,
For his subjects in a country of high living were herds of rebels
and that their interest matters not in that game of self adulation,
And this was a call that they needed to be taught
For they were all marched up to the frontline of hungry missiles, angry rocket launcher, weeping machine guns and thousands to the gallows that the noose turned tender as the ear.
And that there were women and children was not a frontier
To this unglorious uprising,
That when all may end in this story of woes, and we see
Syria stand on a heaps of rubbish and waste, a view from
Turkey while the whole world wear her blacks and mourn her
Dirges.
Then al-Assad may have a peaceful government, a peaceful rule
Where YES 'n SALUTE are the order of the day, and his subjects
i.e the desolates, mass grave, stenches of decay were no more rebels,
Then the remains of damascus may singsong the tale of mortality,
MOUAWIYA SYASNEH!
The galling tale of how a fourteen year old ignite the spark that engulf syria,
The episodic tale of how a country is driving towards extinction.

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