An Elegy to KUSH (Poem)
By Major ( Retired) Samuel Moody
The pungency of unpalatable gazes indignifies our kindred so dear..
Humanity stripped ,psychologically deranged, mentally dummied and synthetically frailed by the monster Kush.
In zombie boggies, staccato maneuvres, patent patches and encrypted verses of “clean salone, clean salone” ,a paradoxical flaunt synthesise misery and agony.
In haggles of pitiful bargain, the monsters craving subsume an apocalypse generation.
Like a plague, vicissitude of anguish unpleasantly sojourn clamping on every menage with grieving mothers sunk in
mourning as dashing hopes of an illustrious prospect strangled by monster kush.
The death toll quizzes a chronicle of martyrs whose souls clinically aborted by greed, opulence and misfeasance bartered in a swapping trade of ingenuity.
Resounding echoes of thunderous rebuttal symphonies our Lion mountain pitching the graveyard as the consummate solace.
Monster kush a franchise of despair has branded every home, family, region , clan or tribe masquerading as a denominative mystifier of shattered dreams, broken homes, a grimmer Gen Z future and a topsy turvy society.
With devout contrariness we seek penance , and in mustered strength we deploy our
arsenal’s, we conjure fracticide for sanity, and implore Athena and Nike in our ceaseless stride to extinct this monster.
T ‘will never burst again nor charade as a tranquiliser for pensive souls…a requiem for you Kush and in harmony we chorus Spafford’s funeral hymn “It is well with my soul”.
