By Atok Dan
Behold the
land where ideas die at the behest of crude force,
And wisdom
withers at its bud of germination
Wield of
dishonesty
Only a few
could explore brains
The brain
that goes ideological massacre
At the bud
With contentment
Does anybody bother of an idea anew?
An idea
murdered by the owner
At the stage
of conception
Called it an ideological massacre of innovation
Wonders of
minds that feel threatened by Innovative
Dangling
factiously for foreign help
Yet he
has disowned itself next door
The brouhaha
of happy neophytes at work
The brain is
massacred for its wisdom
Masses bore
the brunt of the ruin
Naysayers
sacrificed our social fabric
Theft,
looting, and robbing sugarcoated
Yielding
fruit of discords
On the cusp
of denial
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