TESTAMENTS OF LOVE The testaments of our love are not memorandums written on bricks of emotions, neither are they nomenclatures that are etched on the souls of exuberance. They are elements of grace tattooed on the sinews of our heart. The...
SEQUENCE At the abattoir of agony, Our trust is butchered Into slices of meat To be eaten by a chosen few. Our hopes are on rags Walking aimlessly in sobs, Wailing for constricted opportunities Meant only for the known. Hunger ravines our flesh...
SAHARA BLUES VIII I. I see truths of yesteryears revered by whispers of dirges; abominations of old eulogized at the crossroads of renaissance. II. I see traces of our past hung in the museum of fading memories; rituals of our ancestors hurled to...
