A Time With Brute Feet Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

The land has her sorrow confined in my mind,
It groans with a lion’s deep and fearful voice,
Slowly advancing into my soul with a great bind.
You khaki shoulders how do you mount rejoice,
After the dumb of your barking and roaring guns?

You passing time you’re passionately heartless,
If you could not look into this woman’s anguish,
Through out many moons of barreness,
Today her breast is mine a big dry fish;
A single child’s only eye has fallen breathless,
Lost into the path where no wayfarer returns.

You passing time,
That would not pass by without fatal echoes,
And lost of love ones and foes,
Your mouth may be mute like a cemetery market,
But our beloved bloods brimmed it.
In every heart that sighs still,
The memory of this day may remain,
Dripping stolen faces as rain,
But the wind shall sweep off your footprints today,
And never on this triplet land,
Shall be left a place for your brute feet to stand.