A Snail's Cry Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

The wind of time daily soars across the sky
With leaden wings clothed with mournful garment,
Which sweeps the face of space with sadness.
Echoes of prophecies ricocheting
Off the last standing walls of our days
Pressing fear against our sight.
Our drums are daily fed with truths
heads are not ready to harbour.
‘gods of war
Men who commune with darkness
With intent to mold the fate of the universe
They wake to stipend terrors at night
They come to aid victims in sky's smile
Yet our ignorance seeks solace under their shadow
A shadow shading our eyes from their cups of virgin bloods
Virgin bloods bartered for power
Power to mislead the blind
The blind that grope this nightful world
The world where lives a people
lacking divine knowledge and wisdom.

But a day shall here come
When the evils of saints,
Of kings who proclaim peace al fres·co
But in shaded space gift bombs to cows
domestics who believe death would walk them down the isle
To an altar where awaits them
Seven celibate daughters of an unknown deity,
Shall find no ant’s hole hiding their judged deeds
For mother earth still holds her breast
To errand petition to the invisible sun
Against the rapers of her sacrecy.

One day the brim blindness of men
Shall no drop of it
Be found in the cup of ignorance
I tell you,
Then, each and every one of us
Shall see how much
We perpetuated in the fall of your heroes
To opening arms agape to your enemies
Men whose ambitions care not
If your blood abide in kissing glasses
In hands of cancerous laughter and chuckles.
Hmmm, I know one thing
That no ear will ever hear a snail’s cry
But if you were a snail
Would you bear the pains
In a furnace without expression of mind?