Mr B joins the Poeticians.

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Layth Barzangi is another lovely new comer to the Poetician crew. Attended several sessions before he admitted that he had some old poems, oh lying about wither and thither online and that there was one he would like to share with a live audience in Dubai. And so he did. And it was good. And the gods of poetry were satisfied, and now, they sit back on their haunches awaiting the return of some muse or the other, and for more poetry to be born, at a rate faster than once every three years! Yalla Layth, make a good habit out of this.


The Window

Star trails dance outside the window
Like momentary empires
Or scores of dead religions
They rise and fall
And fade like echoes behind the wall

On the dark and misty glass
My finger traces every story
Of dead heroes who strove for glory
Of every trickster, thief and crook
And every self-appointed minister
Pounding on his holy book

Of every revolutionary
Who paid in blood for treason
Sold out to the highest bidder
By their next of kin
And every nameless mercenary

Of every tyrant and dictator
Whose twitching of the little finger
Brought the masses forth to worship
To overfeed the god complex
Each day a different venue
A feast of people’s self esteem
Is on the daily menu

Of every bold philosopher
And enlightened freethinker
Who dared to doubt and question
Who lit a candle in the dungeon
And roused the thousand-year-old bats
Who braved the bloodied fangs and claws
And fought for the most noble cause:
To drive the beasts out in the light
To lift the veil and let the glare
Reduce them all to ash and dust
And cease the endless night

Of every brilliant scientist
And talented inventor
Who drove the thirst for exploration
To every corner of the world
Who gazed across the boundless dark
And at the smallest building block
Writing chapter after chapter
As the tale of our origins
So gracefully unfurled

Of every prodigious musician
Weaving scenes of sheer enchantment
Telling scores of timeless stories
Resonating in your skin
As your teardrops bathe the words
Of every vocal magician

Through the dark and misty glass
I stare beyond my line of sight
A mash of conflicting scenarios
Of doomed dead ends and true ascendancy
Kaleidoscopes of day and night
The choice is ours alone, my friend
As we come to the road’s end
To choose a future in the stars
For all the human race
Or overdose and self destruct
On ignorance and superstition
And vanish from this Earth without a trace

I have long made up my mind
To me this is no burden
And so I smile a knowing smile
Admire the star trails for a while
And gently draw the curtain…

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