PAUL OGUDA

Heroes are not soldiers
Coming back home victorious
Not the generals
Strateging and running the war council
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There was a small boy
In the countryside
Who had a small red BMX bicycle
Kept in the store besides the herbicides
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Welcome to the black market

Where goods are stored in old baskets
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There was total darkness

Then the storm began
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Gaia is weeping
Her heart shredding to pieces
Her voice coarse, no more screaming
Her golden and diamond tears, streaming
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She wears no makeup
Only lip gloss to make her lips glow
She is proud of her hair
Only water relaxes her coarse afro
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There is this girl
Her body is slender
A wife material type of girl
Her lips so tender
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If flags could talk
How about flags of our fathers
Aged with time
Faded, to glory and misery
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Poetry is an act
It changes with time
This poem for example they will react
But I will lose nothing not even a dime
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One, two…
It’s almost fifty
Like the seasons I come back
To haunt you, while you are sitting
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When I die
I know no one will cry
But you will miss me
That I am sure of..
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Facebook, myspace, twitter, foursquare.......
Social networking
Nkt....it is truly networking
This is my story
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Like an empty face
From an alien place
I couldn`t put a name
This was a shame
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In our cacoon
Of solitude
And a promising future
Came a BEAST
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Like Van Gogh`s starry night
Am starring into the night
Stars in constellations and galaxies, so far away
Twinkle with disappearing luminance
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Old men shed no tears
Like the winds of the desert
Their eyes are dry
Lowering in respect my hat
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If I had another chance
To live
I`d change everything
But not you
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Broken dreams
Countless screams
Battered wives
Lost lives
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Christine

This is to you my love
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