The run of history in a thick soup of rain
}
The brown coloured condiment in a clear bottle
{
The inexpensive aftershave and give away shampoo
}
Two pairs of runners on a canvas chair
{
An empty tin
unironed shirts
and traffic sounds
rattling in the moist breeze on a historic evening
of words surrendering in the mouths of politicians
in sombre dress
grey hair dyed dark
and tasteful ties with moderate knots
are the co-ordinates of sincerity
in the eradication of war
}
Telly dressed leaders
- consigned to the history
of a passionate cause
lining pockets of co-operation in
the equality of flags and parades -
become a jumble of yesterday's news
holding the chips for tommorow's game
of cold coiled reality, torqued to a level
of trust constantly tied, tested and untethered
by events which depart and return with the simplistic
consistency of two tribes lying in wait for a sign of belief
in each other's right to live on a land rich in the conflicting songs
of a patriot dead who died for truth and lies put into their heads
through centuries of silent wrongs and bloodthirsty rights.
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