RIC S. BASTASA


Society's Relief - Poem by RIC S. BASTASA

my country is rooted to the
sultanate tradition,
one sultan and his children
and four wives ruling a
territory
those that block the way
are beheaded,
though not really that literally
in the modern sense of
my world, they finally name it
a dynasty
of political warlords and
rag and drag leaders,
one must know the word kowtow
the figurative language of toeing the line
and fidelity or else
fatality, somehow, in my own little way,
i think, there is a need for relief from
this secretly hated tradition of
putting power to the few
families over a long, long time
like an old classical novel
of War and Peace, and somehow
i like to go on the
Color Purple midway between
Fiddler on the Roof and
Gone with the Wind,
my mind bloats and i become a daydreamer
of sort, detached from reality of
abc, to xyz, i do not quit,
i continue dreaming for change and relief
i travel to America and
Canada, meet some friends, and get to
know how they are doing, flying kites
and rolling snow balls, and chasing rainbows
so to speak,
after all is said and done, i come to the conclusion
that i go back
in my country and meet the Sultan again,
missing me, his long gone
son.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 30, 2010



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