Intro:-
Another one about how ignorance and fear, and blind faith in religion can result in disasters.This time the disease is Polio myelitis (means inflammation of the spinal cord matter). The problem with this disease is that it has the symptoms of a cold, but before you know it you're paralyzed and your body is deformed. It can look disturbing, even "demonic".
N.B. all the events in this poem are purely fictional.
POEM
Once upon a time far far away
In a golden kingdom on an infected bay
The men's prayer shook the palace like a beast
"Oh lord have mercy upon us" cried the priest
Rush to the rails and watch them drop still
The once green hills now matted by the wailing ill
"Oh! The good people sickened, they scream and crawl"
"The golden kingdom must not fall"
"We must all labor to find a way"
"To eternally wipe out this fascist plague"
"A potion? A prayer, or do we drought the bay?"
"No, loyal courtmen, I now shall sail away"
"In search of the Amrita, the elixir of life"
"And I, the king, shall lead this strife"
Moons after moons in thirst and heat
Stings of scorpions and soldiers' sanities fleet
Stumbled through seas and lands
Finally to reach an ocean of sands
Delusions of the mind drilled on the boulders
Moulded them into stretched jaws and begging smoulders
My head I slammed with my hands and called on the heavens
To spare my sanity and omit these swevens
Ghosts emerged saying "These are the faces of kings and soldiers"
"Who've sought this Amrita for disorder"
But for greed I do not want it
And so it emerged from among the silt
"Use it well" the ghosts spoke
"For in each cord of life is a thread of death"
"Mix it with water and lace it with bread"
"Upon my soul, my kingdom shall have no dead"
"My king the plague is defeated but a fret is in due"
"Amrita is drained" said the priest "not a drop is there for you"
Lungs petrify into a pair of sponges
Vomit drips on his throne and pins through the neck plunge
He screamed "Remove those thorns beneath my skin"
No reply, so his nails scratched the delusional stings
Straps of skin clung to his nails
His bones started to frail
They swirled and swirled into solid rolls
Like tendrils of grapes but grey, stiff and cold
And so his limbs and ribs deformed
And his courtmen threw him in a filthy volt
"This is the work of a curse" announced the devious priest
"For befouling our fathers' sacred potion"
They did not bother to rub their heads long
Their minds were made that the once king is now a worthless frog
The "good" people bustled to the hills
And with their immortal hands set the cross still
They had to manipulate his limbs like clay
To defy the contortion that fashioned its own way
His finger digging in his holy book, the priest preached under "the "cursed's" feet
Worrying about the two stolen spoons of Amrita beneath holy sheets
Another one about how ignorance and fear, and blind faith in religion can result in disasters.This time the disease is Polio myelitis (means inflammation of the spinal cord matter). The problem with this disease is that it has the symptoms of a cold, but before you know it you're paralyzed and your body is deformed. It can look disturbing, even "demonic".
N.B. all the events in this poem are purely fictional.
POEM
Once upon a time far far away
In a golden kingdom on an infected bay
The men's prayer shook the palace like a beast
"Oh lord have mercy upon us" cried the priest
Rush to the rails and watch them drop still
The once green hills now matted by the wailing ill
"Oh! The good people sickened, they scream and crawl"
"The golden kingdom must not fall"
"We must all labor to find a way"
"To eternally wipe out this fascist plague"
"A potion? A prayer, or do we drought the bay?"
"No, loyal courtmen, I now shall sail away"
"In search of the Amrita, the elixir of life"
"And I, the king, shall lead this strife"
Moons after moons in thirst and heat
Stings of scorpions and soldiers' sanities fleet
Stumbled through seas and lands
Finally to reach an ocean of sands
Delusions of the mind drilled on the boulders
Moulded them into stretched jaws and begging smoulders
My head I slammed with my hands and called on the heavens
To spare my sanity and omit these swevens
Ghosts emerged saying "These are the faces of kings and soldiers"
"Who've sought this Amrita for disorder"
But for greed I do not want it
And so it emerged from among the silt
"Use it well" the ghosts spoke
"For in each cord of life is a thread of death"
"Mix it with water and lace it with bread"
"Upon my soul, my kingdom shall have no dead"
"My king the plague is defeated but a fret is in due"
"Amrita is drained" said the priest "not a drop is there for you"
Lungs petrify into a pair of sponges
Vomit drips on his throne and pins through the neck plunge
He screamed "Remove those thorns beneath my skin"
No reply, so his nails scratched the delusional stings
Straps of skin clung to his nails
His bones started to frail
They swirled and swirled into solid rolls
Like tendrils of grapes but grey, stiff and cold
And so his limbs and ribs deformed
And his courtmen threw him in a filthy volt
"This is the work of a curse" announced the devious priest
"For befouling our fathers' sacred potion"
They did not bother to rub their heads long
Their minds were made that the once king is now a worthless frog
The "good" people bustled to the hills
And with their immortal hands set the cross still
They had to manipulate his limbs like clay
To defy the contortion that fashioned its own way
His finger digging in his holy book, the priest preached under "the "cursed's" feet
Worrying about the two stolen spoons of Amrita beneath holy sheets
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