By Ziad Lawen
The Wizard watched as the waves stopped at the top of the mountain rock.
The clock tick tocked and the moon dropped into the silhouette of corroded crops.
The farmer farmed his farm while the butcher butched his barn.
The Durk strifed,
the Jewels priced
the Briticks cried at wasted pints.
The wizard watched on.
The chess pieces pranced further;
expulsion of pawns.
The King sat nested,
and Queen got bested,
while the labor pieces
labor for peace
the Elite defeat and retreat without ever moving their feet.
The wiz wazzed while his elephant paused.
The trunk rose high,
smashed down the mirror of water – 7 years more –
and drowned the frogs at a crumble of the immense trunk.
for many years,
spread of fear,
as the Elephant’s cheers turned to jeers.
His eyes rung up,
and with the sharp plunge of his tusk,
speared the wiz in his wiffled lung.
The wiz laughed of lust for his lips last to touch – the lips of lady trust.
The master joining the fallen jinn,
tears ran down his stubbled skin,
melting the color within.
Coloring the world,
falling from the skies finitely,
and our collective minds began to swink,
and our waters ran pink,
and foods undoed,
and air as fresh as unblossomed hair
and the whales howled,
and birds flew alone,
and the elephant’s loyalty was no longer honed.
There dwindled the wiz and his trusted steed,
“Why did you make me bleed? Reduced me to nature’s seed, a once blossomed tree?”
“Because this is not meant to be, the end is now, starting with We.”
Hurled the purple elephant.
A small mouse scurried by, and off was the purple beast, off to spread the disease, once a trusted steed, nothing more than a paradox of peace.
Photo credit: Matt Fortune
By Ziad Lawen
“Dad said that.
Dad said this.
Dad did this.
Dad did that.
He saw that.
He wrote this.
Dad is dad.
Dad is this.
Dad is right.
Dad is big.
Dad is smart.
Dad is rich.
Dad is that.
Dad speaks that.
Dad spoke this”
married, but alone
deep in the kitchen,
spoke the mother of four.