TRADITIONAL SONG.

Drums,chains, bangles
shake for melody.
summons,dirges and praise names
have a clan of performers.
This Hellenic orchestra
carves the song for all to sing

GOD THE POET.

GOD THE POET, I THE PET.                                                                                                                                      
And I was told the world was created                                                                                                                      
trees and grasses, sorrow and ashes                                                                                                                      
to happily survive in a place, so rifted.                                                                                                                    
 But God cannot be blamed                                                                                                                                           
for creating the strong and the weak                                                                                                                             
 the contrast of colours                                                                                                                                                   
and the conflicts of light and darkness.                                                                                                                 
So I seek to be an apprentice                                                                                                                                    
to entice this celestial candour:                                                                                                                                 
 I too can create the world all over again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
In that new world ink would be as gold                                                                                                                   
new, sweet as stories told                                                                                                                                            
but history would become flesh                                                                                                                                                
 he would sit on the mesh                                                                                                                                            
that ties man to his soul.                                                                                                                                       
The soul of man will reside                                                                                                                                         
with the company of lifted angels                                                                                                                            
 to proclaim fairness and truth                                                                                                                                    
 before earth, grave or judgement.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
 In a moment, overwhelmed by the pen                                                                                                                               
I have ruled this world                                                                                                                                                   
 not as God; I am unfit comparison                                                                                                                           
to even compare his least-will.                                                                                                                                  
 God is the only poet, I just exist                                                                                                                                       
as a pet and as a pen                                                                                                                                                     
to rule this world God’s way.