David married Sara,
Whose father was Kamal.
They kept the country guessing,
In which direction they could snarl.
Kamal was Foreign Minister,
From the story of creation,
A fine barrister, distinguished man,
Mattabar of the Nation.
His daughter was quite sharp as well,
Ziauddin she did advise,
To admit some limits of the trials,
To pass by western eyes.
And now we come to David who,
With journalistic hue,
Brought Nirmulity to the airwaves,
Mistakenly at face value.
With great symbolic powers,
Of status, mind and race,
He's proved the witchhunt bollockful,
Right in its secular face.
Oh countrymen it should be you,
To chasten nonsense engines,
But you kill, humiliate, erase,
With the grace of Gotham's Penguin.
1 comment:
And at Fugstar's poetic genius
I am bemused at the flow with which
you bring a complex matter as this
To unfold in manners
That shall make sense to the laymans
and that they shall understand
the complexity of a family
so induced, intuned in politics
Of nirmuli hate
yet struggled to support
the cruelest of regimes
How then are the ordinary
less sophisticated, less committed
to the criminality of intellect
shall then accept the biasest of the Tribunal!
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