fickle their poetry| that serenades and depicts
with such beauty
utilising: those same words| as used to bind
in unacknowledged servitude
within their pages| of Manmade rules…
fickle that grandiose illusion| of protection
afforded on the whim| of those perpetual Icons
of intemperate disappearance tricks
with their beguiling safe havens| switched
to necklace pearls of shackling surnames
fickle their belated| rolled out carpets
with pretence of welcoming - those belittled
as mere procreation tools| to shores of aesthetic - equal status
while in denial of their own action’s: ramifications
establishing| that Sea of separation, drowning Humanity’s worth
fickle those Bystanders, like me
that share their heart’s unbridled, clasping tight
their beloveds hands
while skilfully skirting: those borders of equality’s trenches
blinking egregious ignorance| over their blatant awareness…
© L. B. Mek
February 2018