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I waited
Under the outspread foliage
Of the banana tree, 
With ripening fruits dangling precariously, 
Wondering, 
With eyes set on the earth, 
Wishing I understood
This everlasting madness.
To what end would man go,
To what end? 
A mystery it remains, 
Like the age old conundrum 
Of the seniority between the hen and the egg,
Like the unfathomable depths of the bottomless pit... 
Oh! Lamenting in unbridled grief, 
Mother of all, 
Seated on an ashen throne, 
Wails poignantly, 
While her children trade mighty fists,
Wetted by her tears,
Buoyed no less by her flashing darts
Of fierce reproof.. 
I, a mere bystander, 
Watching, meditating, confused, 
Lost, trying to understand what
Led to such fisticuffs 
Between brothers who sucked on
The small obfuscated nipple
And rode the same burdened back..
Yes! 
To what abysmal end? 
What, hidden under the rigid crusts of the earth
Drives man to seek so zealously
To bury his fellow man
Six inches below 
And shake his head
From side to side
Wearing rehearsed frowns,
Indifferent, obeying the laws
Of anarchy, and basking 
In the prestige 
Of ill advantage?
For in these matters, 
Fasidically christened "the survival arts"
Men show sleight of hand, 
Dexterity and mastery of the deleterious science
Of death... 
And for his fellow, he is unapologetic..
Fallen, have you into the cesspool 
And mucky wastes of nothingness, 
You survived not, 
And as such, were not fit to survive... 
We, must hold our
Small heads in mad agony, 
For shamelessly, we have
Trampled on the little men,
So dastardly disparaged
Till they shrunk, 
Into tiny ants
Who suffer in silence
While the mammoths fight
For the trophy from Sheol.. 
I wondered.... 
Days passed, 
Nights went by, sleep eluded me, 
Nightmares sought out my deranged mind
And tormented me, 
And I could not bear it any longer! 
I searched the lengths and breadths of the earth
For answers, from men
wizened beyond my years, 
But found them not... 
I found only fools, 
Tightly snuggled in their cosy territories
With mighty barricades
And tall barb-wired fences, 
Throwing orgies... 
For they had defeated themselves... 
It was then, I slept... 
This time, in the gentle
Stillness of the Caspian,
Wishing I was never born....
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