It is a fool’s plan to teach a man to be a cur in peace,

and think that he will be a lion in war.

Credit: The White Company Arthur Conan Doyle 

By: Ashley S Walker

A common dream is what we all own

yet, it turns a crime (disturbance) when a leader fails in his line of duty

and once there’s chaos,

there’s disruption

How long are we going to throw weight on each other’s back?

Aren’t all supposed to be athletes in the same race?

Being a common floor member

or citizen doesn’t mean you’re in a different race.

We’re all in this together,

let nothing disrupt anyone for the vision to be disrupted.

Disrupt

Just like the nice aroma of a pot of broth speaks for itself,
So is a mug of hot chocolate without a froth
Or a glass of beer without a froth on top of stout
Question is, can politicians ever walk majestically with a wroth?
Or read a manifesto with any line of troth?
No, they’ll dance to the tune of apocalyptic lyrics in a goth style

Froth

You gave it your best brawl

Put in all your might

So you could get it right

You strived to win the race

Hoping for the finest account

The exertion not so simple

Yet with a trickery orchestra

Death fared a forbidden thing it shouldn’t have done

It laid its icy hands on you

with all cruelty

And obliged you to relent your success

with all potency

Though broken,

you swallowed the throb

but things didn’t go so right

And as you guzzled another tot,

in a more frantic struggle,

you gave in the towel

What went wrong?

This firm anchor gale puny

Humanity is doomed

The sweet turn sore

Making bitterness our earnest plea and only yelp

When will this smooth?

No life is guarantee

Only the Word of God is

Not even the righteous is assured

They too have their draw

Like is a carousel

death is the final cartridge

They say we must give our best

Yet the casket doesn’t guarantee the first

Nor does it award the swift

Either does it gives life’s yield

for man to form a nest

So why then the struggle, the mischief, the hast

the hate, the betrayal, the tweak

and all the wicked acts?

Life is not guaranteed, someday we’ll all decay

and the trust for affinity will be broken

Like my best friend Sidney

But unlike us still alive,

In a faraway strand across the bridge,

A beautiful home awaits Sid

There, he needs not die again

There, the sun will shine

and he’ll never be unhappy again

The question now is, where will you and I be,

When our lives decay or trust is broken?

This is in loving memory of my good friend, Sidney Laud Yaw Nii Sai Schandorf.

Rest well, buddy.

Your death was really a pain

But God knows best!

Broken