Oh spear !!

from a sorry blood drip,

that dropped on a dip of fret,
to a spear that spiked 
the cervix of a warrior,
and gashed out the psyche 
of dear mortals:

you're an appendix
to the book of war,
a prefix to a thousand heads
who were beheaded 
in the brink of war.

I'm just a mere bloodstain 
flecked on the berm 
of an African warrior's neck
near the backstreet 
of an undiscovered district,

who lost his life in the battle 
of land and freedom,

while mumbling at the hem 
of triumph and defeat.

but tell me, do you reminisce
how the world crumbled 
to frailty remnants 
under your less-travelled reign,
when you let blood rain 
on the sacred soils below deign?

or do you blame the ones 
who carried and caressed you,
from spearing fish from watercourses 
to spearing souls parting concourses?
or your counter brothers,

who were made for one thing, to bereave,
to splash blood and stain the walls 
of mother earth, making you believe, 
"you're straightening things up here"
but alas! they wish they wore greaves?

spare me this frustration spear please,
for I lost gallons of gallant
friends and families 
to your lords' gaiety and hilarity,
with whom I used to converse
from within a million king-domes,

nonetheless I never bid to see them.

I wish I could let you perceive,
de una vez , the loneliness 
of being entirely lifeless
in this patching, pecked every now 
and then, by the birds of prey, 
because we're wakeless in peril,

but I guess you visit this place quite often,

don't you?

©amtupu_

©toosole_