Short Insurgents Poems

I see running feet
Disarrayed like troubled ants
Running violently in indefinite path

I see hunters
Pursuing preys dodging at gunshots
Continuously in all directions

Justification: Our cattle are hungry!

I see blood of the running feet
Splatter, splashing, in churches and mosques
In bed rooms and streets
On grasses, rocks, books, everywhere

A troop of insurgents
Has invaded our land....

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The stench of gasoline and gore
permeated the encampment.
I am a prisoner of war
And I’m held in a stinking tent
that I share with a gun toting
taliban soldier. His black eyes
staring intently and gloating
as though I were a trophy prize
whose head would soon hang on a stick
for all his turbaned insurgents
to pelt with stones and broken bricks.
I expect his malevolent
Nature to vent with certainty
which translates: it’s curtains for me!...

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