Flaunt no more your guns,
like an insincere advert
offering customers its stain.
In them, my choosy eyes take no delight
nor do I scare to pen my verse.
They are shiny roses amid deadly thorns.
Moan not if futility results from your frantic shoots.
I’m not blind, am much aware of sound mind
I’m not deaf; my ears grasp the hopeless strike.
Disparity, you say you extremely dislike.
What about your insincerity?
What about your insecurity?
Rome, they say wasn’t built in a day
As listless seconds altered to wearied minutes
Lonely Minutes to frustrated hours
Unwieldy Hours to mundane-ridden days
Peace-hunting days to peace-hopeful weeks
Harmony-buffeted Weeks to convalescing months
On the road to recovery Months to bitter years.
Streams to flow in deep red.
I’ve nothing to share.
Flaunt no more your guns,
Before it strikes you back.
Usham Rojio
18th April 2011
About Me
- Rojio Usham
- Presently a post doctoral fellow at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. One of the Associate Editors of "Eastern Quarterly". Writes poetry and short plays, performs and directs plays experimenting different forms of acting methodology and performance aesthetics.
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