We had our jolts, numbing bolts. <br />Abortive muted true revolts. <br />Many tsunamis had us pound, <br />Ever since history had us found. <br />Babers of yon had their stakes. <br />Babers today just lowly fakes. <br />Baring canines every now and then. <br />But unstoppable whir the arms of Ben. <br />And their Consigliere; a so called man. <br />All! Sollozzo the Turk and sponsored fan. <br />His hunger is more then a zillion mouths. <br />His entourage scary teeming uncouths <br />A practiced, haunting toothy smirk, <br />Hides his face and the cavalier jerk. <br />Now shamelessly running from pillar to post. <br />Fed some few with cuisine and roast. <br />Belches and bravado from the rotund ones. <br />Fourth estate's talks and nauseating puns. <br />On the rim of a cauldron's stench bobs. <br />The black coats messiah sulks and sobs. <br />Scrunch! Goose foot; phalanxes start to march. <br />Sadly pointing to the ides of March. <br /> <br /> <br />original <br />14-03 2k11 <br />(Islamabad)<br /><br />saadat tahir<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ides-of-march-14032k11/
