Grace, Synthesis, Henna, Fetid, Pagan, Diffuse, Scribble, Fraught, Paraphernalia, Cotton, Shambolic, Decanter
The air is fetid with shambolic thoughts
as we pray for grace for the havoc we wrought.
Under cotton-ball clouds, a decanter is raised –
the bombs are diffused in a radiation haze.
A pagan synthesis, we bargain with Gods
and blood is our currency in big fat wads.
Hands painted with henna, our new camouflage,
free-thinking is fraught with threats of sabotage.
Too deep is the darkness into which we have sunk
we have to un-think every thought that we’ve thunk.
Now smile for the camera and scribble of love
hail that peace paraphernalia – a blinding white dove!