For the Leftovers
You are the ones left behind, bent and broken, drunk with failure.
Now ankle deep in mud, drag yourself along these streets full of sludge.
Lose yourself in the music of your squelching boots, the pattering of rain.
Mutter a word of praise or two, say glory be to this country.
Go to your cubicle, stare vacantly at the PC, compose an email
To your boss who has been sleeping with your coworker’s wife.
Say thank you for the job. Suck his toes, glue your identity
On the soles of his shoes. Hide your opinions under your tongue.
All your life you have kissed the arse of nationality, now wrap yourself
In the loincloth of party flags, cover your face with the proud emblems.
Scoop your heart out and chew it raw, let the juices of ideologies drip.
Feast on the sky high tax rates that your messiah has bestowed on you.
Back in your den, lay your fatigued and fraying body on the musty mattress,
Swipe along the photos of your friends, enjoying life in Miami Beach.
Delete your latest status, write that you love your country,
Close your eyes and plunge your body into an abyss of oblivion.
Poetry by Bibek
Read 138 times
Written on 2018-08-05 at 11:29
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