The stampede

Stampede values

submerged in the centre-ville.

The sun was shining up

walls are full of nice graffiti,

beautiful, aesthetic words garnish them.

Onlookers come and read,

to pay respect.

The content is on the modern discourse

running on the stage;

peace, disarmament, global warming

throw up as oeuvres of

firsthand painters and writers,

while off the stage,

on the real dais

it’s about striking the iron when it’s hot

like the smiling star up there.

Gloom and darkness prevail

as the plat du jour

same recipe, day after day

same outcome

work doesn’t stop.

Meetings on peace

helping the poor continue

much like the sun

which cannot not rise and set

or like the paintings on the walls

ornamented with words

on the stage

bushwhacked by the other field,

the falsest reality will never yield.