From the soul

Protocol-polite-hands

As Somali presidents and politicians. Enjoy popular patriotism. And travel far away. Attending ‘peace process’ confrontments. In luxurious air-conditioned apartments. In London, Istanbul and Addis Ababa. Shaking protocol polite-hands. At lengthy polished tables. They give demented destroying commands. Smiles on their face. Distrust in their hearts. Yet the violence, the lootings and the killings go

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Tapestry

In your Captivating speeches . Of artistic elegance. And binding obligation. I\’ve found a world of fantasy. Where fact and fiction. Weave together in a tapestry. What\’s real and what’s make-believe. I can not define. That stays, for me too, a mystery. In that fusion our souls parted. Where mine has led to. I cannot

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