by deviantart

a volume of air begins to strike, hits a body –
like pebbles, like stones,
like rocks or fossils of an ancient man.

softly. slowly.
handcuffs are placed on wrists, like sweet kisses.
then, strongly. swiftly.
a man is dragged out like a prisoner from his own country;
& he lands on his head.

such treachery with an identical feel of the air,
a gentle breeze singing in the ears of one who is not patriotic.
strong winds move his limbs to do the unthinkable,

an appealing hurricane: a few swearwords at the president,
stain the country’s flag with vomit,
hurl something at the “important man’s” statue;

start a crisis, no, a war with your own people.
& let aeolus
drive your feet to the guillotine. there are no last words when the liver is gone.

“at the count of three
hold your breath.”

Published by Akubudike Deborah

a very determined writer (poet and lyricist), hoping to change the world positively with writing, public speaking, spoken word poetry, music (songwriting), dancing, and lots more. let's encourage each other and live the life we deserve ๐Ÿ˜‡๐Ÿ˜‡.

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