Unsettled by the peace of the world

They schemed to sow the seed of discord in our farms of living

Through chimneys of annihilation,

Vessels of separatism,

Sermons of false truth of medicine.

Our unity, they flushed with fear

Livelihood, washed away with waves of pandemic

Making us prostitutes of needs

Merchant-beggars for light and might.

As they trade our freedom for petals, sitting on the throne ofdeals,

The media become our feeding bottles of lies,

As the eagles shower their droppings for revitalizing and cleansingthe land,

Arithmetic wears a new garment.

As the string of discord binds us in pain,

Siblings become strangers,

Friends, ceremonial enemies

Hospitals become death malls.

No embrace or hugging, they say

For embrace died among lovers,

Hugging becomes a luxury beyond the reach of even the rich.

Handshake is bedridden, awaiting death or recovery

This compound word, in our imagination transplanted,

Becomes the death knell on our family ties.

The child running errand is trapped,

And father cannot go in search.

Husbands wallow in masturbation,

Confined to their farms, away from their wives

Feeding fat from the produce of their strife.

Some sleep with their wealth under their pillows

With no one to barter with

Others are victims of hungerdemic and poverdemic.

Living has never been more worisome and death more worthy,

We ride in official vehicles to malls,

Accompanied with the blaring siren

That pleases no ear,

Awaiting death in isolation and funeral by strangers.

The iniquity of this world is the brainchild of barons

Dressed in the string of discord.